Page 5 of Brigand

“Thank God.”

The door opened and Ewan peered into the gloom, quicklyquartering the room. The cottage was nearly empty but for a squirming bundle onthe floor. Ewan let his tensed muscles relax. He nodded to Mungo and steppedinside. “Well?” It was a short, sharp query. He was a busy man. He wanted thisover.

“Come in. Come in.” Judging from the tension onMacAllister’s face, his frenetic movements, it was not over.

Ewan frowned and surveyed the bundle on the floor. A woman,tied, a jumble of skirts. Her face was obscured by the gag and a matted fall ofblack curls but Ewan could see the streaks of tears on her cheeks.

Hell.

What a way to start a marriage.

“So, MacAllister, have you finally delivered my bride?”

The boy paled. “Nae. ’Tis not Kaitlin.”

A worm writhed in Ewan’s gut. Damn MacAllister. Damn him tohell. “Our bargain was for your sister’s hand. You can’t just bring me somerandom woman and think your debt is settled.” He wasn’t a filthy procurer, forChrist’s sake.

“Nae. Nae. You dunna understand. This is the friend I wastelling you about. The one who helped Kaitlin run away.”

Ewan crossed his arms over his chest. “And?”

“Don’t you see? When Kaitlin finds out we’ve kidnapped her—”

“We?” Annoyance bristled at his nape. “I didn’t kidnapanyone. I don’t kidnap women.” He didn’t. Never had. Oh, he’d done plenty ofother dark and sinful things, but never that.

MacAllister ignored him—not a wise move. One did not ignorethe McCloud. Not anymore. He was far too powerful for anyone to dare. “WhenKaitlin finds out we’ve kidnapped Violet, she’ll have to come back. To saveher. Don’t you see?”

“Violet?” Ewan’s blood surged. God. Why did she have to havethat name?

“Yes.” MacAllister gestured to the woman on the floor. “Herbest friend in the whole world. Violet Wyeth.”

Violet Wyeth.

Ewan’s breath caught. Every muscle tightened. An unholy burnsurged in his brain as visions of a beautiful girl, a heartless girl, a spoiledgirl—one who had ruined his life—winged through his mind.

Violet Wyeth.

It couldn’t be.

He put a boot on either side of the wriggling form andshoved her hair out of her face and his heart stopped.

God. That face.

Something vicious and feral surged through him. He couldn’tname it. Surely it wasn’t heady anticipation. The bitter taste of opportunity.For vengeance.

Surely it wasn’t that.

But it was.

He could tell from the way she glared at him over the gagshe didn’t recognize him.

That she didn’t remember him—didn’t remember what he’dsacrificed for her and how she’d repaid him—only solidified his resolve.

In that second, a plan formed. He smiled. A wolfish grin.“Well, we do need a maid at the Cloud.” He squeezed her arm. She tried towrench away but he didn’t allow it. “She’s a little scrawny but she’ll do. I’lltake her. Besides,” he caught and held her gaze, threading menacing meaninginto his tone, “the boys could use some entertainment.”

He liked that her nostrils flared, her beautiful,treacherous face paled.

And he liked that she was, once again, within his grasp.