Read His Stolen Bride BN for Free Online Page B

deficiencies.
    He looked skeptical. “No one else offered?”
    “My penniless cousin Robert did, but my father refused him. You must understand, the
     MacDougall seeks my dower lands in the Campbell territory that once belonged to the
     MacDougalls. With them, he will bring more peace and prosperity between our clans.”
    The mean sound the man spit out could scarcely be called a laugh. “Aye, he will continue
     to tell you how much he desires peace with your kin, up until the morn he attacks
     them.”
    She jerked away from his touch. “I will not believe such a lie. Murdoch MacDougall
     is a man of honor. He would never resort to thieving a maid from her bed for some nefarious end.”
    A tightness in his jaw, a momentary flattening of his full mouth betrayed his anger.
     Still, the violence she sensed leashed within him never surfaced. “You think not?”
    “I care not what you think,” she tossed back. “I demand you release me. I shall be ruined if you do not.”
     The horrifying possibility of losing her home and her best chance at a contented marriage
     sank in with her statement. “The MacDougall might not wed me at all.”
    He answered with a cynical grunt. “He would wed you, ruined or nay. He needs you as
     desperately as you wish to wed him.”
    “Then return me,” she near pleaded.
    “Nay.”
    She placed belligerent hands on her hips. “Why do you seek to prevent our marriage?
     What manner of man would abduct a maid upon her betrothal?” A knave. A miscreant.
     She gasped, feeling the blood drain from her cheeks.
    A maniacal butcher.
    The truth of his identity hit her like an icy sheet of Scottish winter rain. She swallowed—hard.
     Her abductor’s disconcerting gaze followed her every move.
    “Oh, dear heaven.” Her voice trembled as she braced herself on shaky arms. “I know
     you are the English murderer—the butcher of Lochlan MacDougall!”
    He drew in a deep breath, eyes blazing black fury. Beneath taut shoulders, he clenched
     large fists, sending Averyl’s pulse back into turmoil.
    “You are Drake Locke.” Even her voice shook now.
    Frantic, she looked across the room, toward the door and freedom. Before she could
     rise and attempt to escape, he flew across the room and anchored his hands on either
     side of her head, trapping her against the bed. Her mind racing, she tried to roll
     away and find her feet. The stranger caught her wrists and pulled her back against
     the mattress, this time bracketing his hands around her waist to prevent her escape.
    The pressure of his fingers seared through her clothing, into her skin. His presence,
     hot and looming, enveloped her. Dark, shaggy hair brushed the tops of his shoulders,
     longer than current fashion dictated, and framed a square, angry face. The corded
     muscles of his neck stood visible above the imposing breadth of his shoulders. The
     man was no one to trifle with.
    Yet she had to risk everything for escape.
    “I suppose Murdoch told you that.” His voice rumbled from his chest, much like the
     thunder above.
    She nodded unevenly. “Why should you seek to prevent my marriage to him?”
    The hard line of his jaw tensed again. “Revenge. He owes me a debt. You are my payment.”
    She shook her head, imagining all the ways in which he might think to extract payment
     from her. “Do not touch me.”
    “I do not seek to claim your…charms.”
    That he seemed to believe she had none filled her with relief and anger at once. Still,
     Averyl hesitated.
    Could she believe a fiend ruthless enough to steal a sleeping woman from her chamber,
     coldly murder a man? Nay.
    Locke moved closer, until he stood inches away. A curious tingling began in her belly.
     Danger, she was certain, and fear, for she felt it in every nerve of her body.
    “Do you plan to kill me?” Her voice trembled.
    Wrath and pain tightened his features. “I told you I do not. I have no lust to shed
     any blood, save Murdoch’s.”
    “Ransom me,