“Do not take yours out unless I tell you to. There are at least four of them, and they’ve obviously neutralized our coachman and Robby. We would only be endangering the ladies.” Grant had gone back to looking out the window but now glanced over his shoulder at his grandfather. “We only fight if absolutely necessary. Understood?”
The old man nodded. “All right, lad. We’ll play it yer way.”
“Good.”
Grant looked at Kathleen and Jeannie. Although his gaze had gone as hard as marble, he remained calm. More than anything, annoyed described his expression, as if one of the horses had thrown a shoe, causing a slight delay.
“I know you’re scared,” he said. “But if you’ll both keep quiet and do exactly what I say, everything will be fine.”
“You promise?” Jeannie asked in a quavering voice.
He flashed a brief smile. “I promise. Nothing bad will happen to you or Kathleen.”
“Out of the carriage, now,” shouted a muffled voice.
As Grant reached for the door handle, he glanced at Kathleen. “I mean it. Keep quiet, all right?”
His repeated warning was slightly irritating, especially since she didn’t feel the tiniest inclination to say anything to a highwayman. Her only plan was to keep her sister safe.
Grant cautiously opened the door. He muttered a quiet curse before stepping out and clicking the carriage door shut behind him.
“Stay right there, mate,” someone barked.
“I’ve no plans to run off, since you’re holding a pistol on me,” Grant replied. “Now, who is in charge of this misadventure? The sooner we can conclude our business, the better.”
Kathleen blinked. Grant was a quiet man, even self-effacing. And certainly no one would ever call him a snob. Right now, though, he sounded both imperious and righteously offended.
Even though Jeannie was huddled against her, Kathleen shifted closer to the window. If she leaned forward enough, she could see him.
Grant looked as haughty and irritated as he’d sounded. He also seemed entirely in control by his demeanor. It was quite remarkable, since a man with scarf wrapped around his face held a pistol just six inches from Grant’s nose.
“That’s our lad,” Angus said as he too looked out. “He’ll soon have this sorted.”
Kathleen practically plastered her ear to the glass. “They’re arguing.”
“Nae, they’re negotiating, lass.” He patted her knee. “It’s all just part of the game, ye ken.”
It didn’t seem like a game, since the argument seemed to be growing more heated. And from the tone of Grant’s voice, it was clear he was frustrated.
“What’s going to happen to us?” Jeannie whispered. The poor girl was as pale as a slipper moon, and her pupils had dilated with fear.
“Nothing, dearest,” Kathleen said in a soothing voice. “Mr. Kendrick will protect us.”
Angus patted Jeannie’s knee. “Och, they’ll just take a bit of blunt and be on their way.”
Kathleen jerked back when Grant opened the carriage door. His gaze had narrowed to fiery green slits, and his features were tight with anger.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to get out.” His calm voice was at odds with his furious expression.
Angus made a disgusted noise. “Bloody idiots, I ken?”
“Ye ken correctly,” Grant replied.
A large figure loomed behind him and jabbed a pistol into the back of Grant’s skull.
“Get ’em out now,” growled the man, “or I’ll blow your bloody brains all over the inside of this fancy carriage.”
Kathleen gasped. Grant, however, simply looked massively annoyed.
“If you will cease jabbing that blasted weapon at my head,” he replied, “I will be able to step back so the others can alight.”
“Bloody pounce,” the man snarled as he stepped back. “I oughta blow yer brains out.”
Grant moved aside to let Angus climb out. Then he reached in to help Kathleen and Jeannie down.
Jeannie, however, huddled against Kathleen, refusing to move.
“Dearest, we have no choice,” Kathleen whispered.
Jeannie buried her face in Kathleen’s shoulder. “No.”
“Jeanette, look at me,” Grant said.
She reluctantly lifted her head.
“I told you I won’t let anyone hurt you or Kathleen,” he said in a patient voice. “If you just do what I say, we will all be fine.”
“Get a bloody move on it,” yelled the bandit. “Or I will blow someone’s brains out.”
Jeannie flinched.
“Och, man,” Angus barked back. “She’s just a child. Yer scarin’ the wits out of her.”
“Not true.” Grant took Jeannie’s hand. “She’s a brave lass, is our girl.”
“Certainly braver than I am,” said Kathleen. “She’s always been that way.”
Grant gave a gentle tug, and Jeannie moved onto the step. After he lifted her down, he turned back to help Kathleen step out. She lined up with her sister and Angus by the side of the carriage. Grant stood in front of them in a protective stance, braced as if ready for a fight.
A fight for which he and Angus were greatly outnumbered, she gloomily observed. Danvers, their coachman, along with Robby the groom, were sitting on the verge, hands behind their heads and held at gunpoint by a man on a horse. Another man had dismounted and was holding the reins of two horses while keeping a pistol pointed at Kathleen, Jeannie, and Angus.
A third man stood several feet away, his weapon leveled on Grant. All wore scarves and hats tugged low. Identical greatcoats made them almost indistinguishable. The one holding the pistol on Grant was particularly tall and powerful looking, but they were all big men.
Kathleen cast a quick glance around. They were on a deserted stretch of road, surrounded only by windswept meadows, with a stand of woods in the distance. Not a farmhouse or cottage was in sight, and she suspected there wasn’t one on the opposite side of the road, either. Even though she knew they weren’t far from the hamlet attached to Lochnagar Manor, the area seemed lamentably perfect for a highway robbery.
The villain aiming at Grant—presumably the head bandit—leaned forward to stare at Kathleen. Although the brim of his hat shadowed his eyes, she could feel his gaze crawl over her. She forced herself to stare back, refusing to be rattled.
Grant stepped slightly to the side, coming between her and the man.
“I wouldn’t,” he said in a cold voice.
The thug snorted. “Ye couldna stop me if ye wanted to, ye big oaf. I’m the one with the gun.”
Grant crossed his arms over his chest. Kathleen could see the flex of his shoulders even through the fabric of his coat.
“And I’m the one whose brother is the local magistrate. That would be Sir Graeme Kendrick, brother of the Laird of Arnprior. Harm me or one of mine, and you’ll rain hell and Clan Kendrick down on your damned heads.”
That dire threat took the fellow slightly aback. The other two bandits exchanged a glance, obviously disconcerted.
“Och, that ain’t good,” said the one on the horse.
“I thought ye looked familiar,” opined the one watching the coachman and groom. “I heard about Kendrick havin’ a twin. Yer him, I reckon.”
“You reckon correctly. So you’d best be having a care if you want to keep your necks from getting stretched.”
“Shut yer bleedin’ mouth,” snarled the leader.
A thump came from the back of the carriage. Kathleen craned back to see yet another bandit heave a trunk onto the road. When it hit the dirt, the latch gave way, spilling out some of the contents.
“Those are my things!” Jeannie yelped, jerking forward.
Kathleen pulled her back. “It doesn’t matter. We can replace everything.”
“That’s using yer brains.” The leader studied her again. “I can think of something else I’d like to use, too. Ye’ve got a pretty arse, from what I can tell. I’m thinking—”
&n
bsp; “Think about it again, and I’ll rip out yer damn tongue and shove it down yer feckin’ throat,” Grant snarled.
Kathleen blinked. Grant’s voice had deepened to a terrifying, guttural brogue. She couldn’t see his face, but his shoulders had bunched up, as if he were about to spring at their captor and carry out his gruesome threat. He radiated a dangerous, masculine ire that she found immensely reassuring.
The bandit leader obviously found it intimidating, since he took a quick step back.
“Ye’d best listen,” Angus said in a sanguine tone. “Kendricks always keep their word, especially when it comes to killin’.”
The leader turned his pistol on Angus. “We’ll see who’s doin’ the killin’. I’d shoot ye as soon as look at ye, old fool.”
Grant chopped down an impatient hand. “No one with a brain should kill anyone today. Now, why don’t you lot prove you have a few brains amongst you and get on with this business.”
“Oy, Heckie,” said the bandit who’d been rummaging through the boot. “What do you want me to do with this ’ere stuff?”
His leader rounded on him. “Don’t use my name, ye bloody moron. Just go through the rest of them trunks and be quick about it.”
“No need to get tetchy,” the man protested. “I’m workin’ as fast as I can.”
Kathleen mentally frowned. While the other three men were obviously Scottish, this one was not. He was English, with what she thought was a—
“Oh, no,” Jeannie moaned as the bandit dumped the entire contents of her trunk onto the road.
Kathleen gave her sister a hug as the villain quickly sifted through the pile, strewing items willy-nilly.
When the Englishman got up and pulled Kathleen’s trunk from the boot, Heckie waved his gun at Grant.
“Now empty yer pockets, and collect them lasses’ purses while yer at it.”
Grant extracted his money clip from his coat—a very fat money clip—and threw it at the varlet’s feet.
“You too, old man,” barked Heckie.
Angus turned his pockets inside out. “I dinna have a shilling to my name. I’m a puir man, ye ken.”
“Ye’ll be a dead man in a minute. I’ll be happy to plug ye right between the eyes.”
“You’re horrible.” Jeannie’s voice quavered.
“Ye have no idea, girl. But I’ll be happy to show ye if I don’t get yer damn purses right now,” Heckie said, leering at her.
When Kathleen felt Jeannie shudder, anger surged through her body, pushing aside fear. “Lay a hand on her, and I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp,” she snarled.
“I’ll fetch their purses now,” Grant said. “Then you bastards can be on your way.”
“Too right,” said the man still fiddling with the lock on Kathleen’s trunk. “Don’t want some bleedin’ villager stumbling along.”
The leader waved his pistol again at Grant. “Don’t be tryin’ anything funny, or I’ll shoot that barmy old bastard and take the pretty girl for myself.”
Grant turned on his heel so quickly that his greatcoat flared out like a cloak. Although his features were stonelike, his eyes glittered like icy green shards. Fury pulsed off him in waves—a cold, hard force that was utterly terrifying.
The sober-minded businessman had turned into a fierce Highland warrior.
His gaze flickered over her, and some of the fury retreated.
“All right?” he murmured to her.
She nodded.
“Good lass.”
He reached into the carriage to retrieve their reticules, then tossed the small bags at the leader’s feet. The man swiped them up and shoved them in the pocket of his greatcoat.
“Get that bloody thing open,” he barked at the bandit still struggling with Kathleen’s trunk. “Shoot the lock off if ye have to.”
Kathleen sighed. “There’s a key in the green velvet reticule.”
“Why didn’t ye say so, ye silly bitch.”
She resisted the impulse to reply with an unhelpful comment.
The leader found the key and tossed it to his companion, who swiftly opened her trunk and dumped out the contents. Kathleen winced as her new satin evening gown—an unfortunate shade of cream under the circumstances—landed right on top of what looked like horse dung.
It doesn’t matter.
None of her clothes mattered, as long as they didn’t find—
“Oy, looks like we gots a false bottom ’ere,” the bandit triumphantly said.
Kathleen had to force down her horror as he pried away the inner lining with his knife. He extracted a rolled silk pouch, tied with a braided cord.
“Oh, no,” Jeannie whispered.
Crouching down, the man opened the pouch, unrolling it on the dirt road. Finely cut stones glittered in the rays of the late afternoon sun. Two diamond-set bracelets, a number of gold chains, and a truly splendid set of pearls Kathleen had received for her sixteenth birthday. Of much less value but infinitely more precious was a small garnet ring, its pretty stone set on a plain gold band. It was the first piece of jewelry Kathleen ever owned, given to her by her mother. The thought of losing it ...
Heckie nodded, clearly pleased. “Aye, then, let’s be off.”
“But Kath, that’s your mother’s ring,” Jeannie protested.
“It’s fine, dear,” Kathleen managed. “It’s just a ring.”
“But you love it so!”
“Take everything else and leave the ring,” Grant said in a hard voice. “It’s just a trinket.”
The man barked out a laugh. “And why would I do that?”
“To prove yer not a complete piece of shite?” Angus said.
“I’ve had enough of you, old man,” Heckie sneered, turning his pistol on the old fellow.
“All right,” Grant snapped. “You’ve got what you want. Just get on your blasted horses and be on your way.”
“I’ll be on my way, but what’s to stop me from shooting that old coot before I go?”
Grant stepped directly in front of Heckie. “The certainty that wherever you go, I’ll find you and kill you.”
It was hardly the worst threat made during this gruesome episode. But Grant’s tone was so chilling and the truth of his words so evident that only a fool wouldn’t take it seriously.
“Someone’s comin’,” barked the man on the horse. “I can hear a rider.”
Grant leaned in closer to the leader. “Best be on yer way. Heckie.”
Kathleen could see the man glare at Grant from under the brim of his hat. “We’re not done, Kendrick. I promise ye that.”
“I’ll look forward to our next meeting,” Grant replied.
Heckie retreated to his horse. Once they’d all mounted up, they were off, jumping a short hedge and thundering across a meadow toward the woods.
Grant swiftly turned and came to Kathleen and Jeannie. “It’s all right now. It’s over.”
“It’s fine,” Kathleen managed. “We’re fine.”
“That was awful,” Jeannie said in a tearful voice. “I thought we were going to die.”
Grant pulled her in for a quick hug. “They just wanted our money, Jeannie. The rest was bluster.”
“But they took Kath’s jewels, too.”
He grimaced at Kathleen. “I am truly sorry, lass.”
“It’s fine,” she repeated. “As long as we’re safe.”
It wasn’t fine. It was awful, and she wanted to cry over the loss of her mother’s ring. Still, they were alive and whole.
“I’m grateful they were scared off,” she added. “Is there really a rider coming?”
Angus, who’d gone to talk to the coachman and Robby, gazed up the road. “Aye, there is.” Then he snorted. “It’s the bloody village vicar, ye ken. Come to our rescue.”
Chapter Eleven
“Found it!” The vicar triumphantly held up Jeannie’s shoe.
While Angus helped the girls reorganize their trunks, Grant and the vicar retrieved various bits of clothing and person
al items scattered about the roadside and ditch. Robby and the coachmen, now armed, kept a careful watch on the surrounding countryside.
Given the unsettled situation, Grant had been tempted to leave the trunks and their contents, returning for them once the sisters were safely stowed at Lochnagar. Kathleen, however, had pointed out that the bandits had taken everything of value, and she refused to leave her undergarments strewn about the roadside for everyone to see. Grant had declined to point out that the road into Dunlaggan was hardly a bustling thoroughfare, which was why they’d been robbed in the first place.
After a few tartly exchanged words, he’d reluctantly given in. But he would not rest easy until the lasses were behind the sturdy walls of his brother’s manor house.
“Thank goodness you arrived when you did, Mr. Brown,” Jeannie enthused to the vicar, clasping the other shoe to her chest. “We probably would have been killed if you’d not come along to rescue us.”
Grant swallowed a snort. Though he had an athletic build, Brown was an exceedingly peaceable and rather absent-minded fellow. It was impossible to imagine him affecting any sort of rescue, much less taking on a gang of highwaymen.
Nevertheless, the sound of Brown’s horse had spurred the gang to quit the scene. That was a good thing, since Heckie’s interest in Kathleen had crossed the invisible line in Grant’s head. He’d been seconds away from gutting the man despite the likelihood that he’d have been shot as a result.
Grant had been damned careless with the safety of those in his charge, and for that he wouldn’t forgive himself. Still, who could have foreseen highwaymen operating this close to Lochnagar? It didn’t make any sense. Not on Graeme’s watch, practically under his magistrate-brother’s nose.
“You’re very kind, Miss Jeanette,” Brown said as he climbed out of the ditch. “But it was lucky the poltroons didn’t know it was I who was the rider. Vicars aren’t very intimidating, you know, except from the safety of our pulpits.”
When he handed Jeannie her shoe, the girl gazed up at him with a dazzled smile. “Oh, no. You definitely saved us. Didn’t he, Kath?”
“Every little bit helps,” replied Kathleen as she carefully tugged a thistle that was enmeshed in a delicate lace scarf. When the lace ripped, she sighed and pitched the scarf into the trunk.
The Highlanderâ??s Irish Bride Page 13
