The Laird Takes a Bride by Lisa Berne

Author:Lisa Berne [Berne, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-08-28T18:30:00+00:00

It had been a long night. Alasdair sat at the breakfast-table, tired, but satisfied. He’d come straight from the stables, ravenous, and now was no longer hungry, in itself a pleasant state of affairs, but his cheerful mood was due only in part to that. He felt good—sanguine. The situation with the Sutherlainns had been successfully resolved; most importantly, Fiona was safe.

Thank God, she was safe.

And they seemed to have moved past the cold, icy cold tension of the past few days.

Thank God for that, too.

And today was a new day.

Today, perhaps, they could have peace between them.

Sweet, calm, easy peace.

That wasn’t so much to ask, was it?

“Black pudding! Excellent!”

It was Duff, ambling into the breakfast-room in a distinctly bleary way, and Alasdair searched his memory: had Duff been among those who’d gathered last night to welcome his safe return home with his mysteriously absent wife?

Not that he could recall.

He frowned a little, watching as Duff sat down, called imperiously for ale, filled his plate with black pudding, baked beans, grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, buttery toast; he himself waved away the ale a servant proffered, but accepted a second cup of coffee, and nodded his thanks as the servant removed his plate.

“No ale?” inquired Duff, with such concern that Alasdair felt a sharp prickle of—well, there it was again, annoyance. There was no law that said one had to have ale every day, even if, perhaps, it had long been a convivial custom shared with one’s uncle. He answered:

“No.”

“Really? Are you all right, lad?”

“Aye.”

“If you say so.” Duff stared at him, looking perplexed, then finally took a long ostentatious draught of his own ale, as if somehow proving a point, and went on with his meal.

Alasdair’s annoyance intensified.

Finally, when Duff reached for his fifth piece of toast, Alasdair said, with deliberate casualness:

“You may remember that my wife went missing yesterday.”

“Did she? Oh—ah—yes, now that you bring it up, lad, I do recall somebody mentioning it. Big castle, this. Off somewhere mending something, I suppose? Never saw such a lass for sewing. Always with a needle in her hand! Hmmm—wonder if she’d fix this shirt of mine? Look at this rip—d’you see it? How it got there I’ve no idea. Might’ve been Hewie jabbing at me with a billiard stick—only in fun, of course. I think it was only in fun. Though he may not have liked it when I kicked him in the seat of his pants. For a lark, you know! Did you try some of that whisky he brought over last night? Only one bottle, but superb! Jameson, 1782! Let’s buy some, lad, what do you say?”

“I wasn’t in the billiards room last night.”

“Oh, weren’t you? Could’ve sworn it was you making that bank shot that put away four balls in a row. Superb!”

“No, I was riding into the Dunstan woods in search of my wife.”

“Why? Ran away, did she?”

“No, she was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped? Really?” Duff lifted his tankard to wave it in the direction of a servant. “God’s blood, the trouble these women make! Ah! To the brim! That’s the dandy.

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