Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  Graham slowed his headlong progress. He forced his features to relax and met his brother’s gaze as he completed his descent.

  “Where you going?” James demanded.

  Graham lifted a brow. “You haven’t asked me where I’m going since I was nineteen years old.”

  “Davina and the girls are not at home. Where are they?”

  “Davina does not report her comings and goings to me.”

  His brother’s mouth thinned. “You allow our sister and your nieces the come and go as they please?”

  “As do you,” Graham shot back. “You know full well that Davina takes very good care of your daughters. Why are you suddenly questioning her guardianship?”

  “Do not treat me like a fool, Graham.” James’s voice crackled with derision. “I am well aware they think me mad.”

  “You have been mad for some time, Brother,” Graham offered, light tone belying the severity of his words.

  James, of a height with Graham, leaned forward, eyes gleaming with what very well might be madness. “Find them and bring them home.”

  Graham’s first inclination was to agree and leave as quickly as he could, but something told him that was the wrong move. He locked gazes with James. “What makes you think I do not believe you are mad, as well?”

  “I wager you do. But, unlike our sister and my daughters, you understand that I am quite capable of ruining you all should you disobey my orders.”

  “I do understand that,” Graham said in a quiet voice.

  James gave a curt nod. “One day, you will all comprehend that I did this for you.”

  That caught Graham off guard, but he managed to bite back the retort, if you expect us to believe that, then you are mad, and said, “Davina will not go quietly, you know.”

  “But she will go.” James spun on his heel and strode toward the hall leading to his study.

  Graham watched his receding back. Once James disappeared from sight, he murmured, “Did Maryanne’s death truly strip you of your humanity?”

  An unexpected memory rose of his elder brother and him racing through the woods, James in the lead. He always had to be in the lead, but he always ensured that Graham never truly got left behind. Any question of whether or not that brother still remained was answered last night when he informed Graham that he had sold his daughters and Davina to the French in exchange for their support. He hadn’t called it selling them, but that’s exactly what it was. They would be shipped off to France to marry men they knew nothing of, all for a plot that stood not the slightest chance of success. Aye, the brother who always ensured Graham never got left behind was gone. Unfortunately, the love Graham bore that brother was not.

  A quarter of an hour later, Graham stepped into the saddle and urged the bay out the stable doors. He dug his heels into the animal’s ribs. They lurched into a trot, then, when Graham cracked the reins down on his steed’s withers, a gallop.

  They headed south, across their land, keeping to high ground. Graham would catch the road beyond Drowned Pony Pond. James couldn’t see the roadway from the manor, but Graham could from where he rode. Elizbeth’s carriage couldn’t reach the final bend without him catching sight of it.

  Images of James as he once was and as he’d looked moments ago in the foyer swirled in Graham’s mind. He had to find Elizbeth—find all his womenfolk. Had to keep them safe.

  If only he knew how.

  ***

  Elizbeth shook her head. This was simply too fantastical. Within twenty-four hours, her father had proclaimed himself the true King of Scotland, the man she loved had rejected her and called her a liar, and now they were being attacked by highwaymen. Had she angered God?

  The carriage began to turn on the road and listed to the left where Rosie sat. Rosie screamed. Elizbeth seized the handle above her head. Had a wheel lifted off the road? Heaven above, if Matthew wasn’t careful, he would kill them. Her heart thundered. She’d heard of more than one carriage accident where the occupants ended up with broken necks.

  “The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want,” Rosie began to pray. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures—”

  A shout went up from Matthew. A gunshot split the air.

  Rosie grabbed Elizbeth’s free hand. “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” Rosie murmured through tears, “I shall fear no evil.”

  Another shot rang out. Men’s shouts sounded near the carriage.

  “We are going to die.” Tears streamed down Rosie’s cheeks.

  “Enough of that,” Elizbeth ordered. “They will probably take our jewelry then ride away as fast as they can.”

  She slipped off the ruby ring on her left forefinger and stuffed it into her bodice. Her fingers brushed the forgotten letter—Robert’s letter—and tears threatened anew. A strange sense of satisfaction rose. If Robert hadn’t sent her away, they wouldn’t be in danger this very moment. How she wished she could see his face when he learned they were accosted on the road.

  “They will be angry if we have nothing of value for them to steal.” Rosie’s voice shook.

  “I will not give them my mother’s ring,” Elizbeth said. “They can have the gold chain around my neck.” It was a newer piece, from her father, with little sentimental attachment.

  The carriage slowed. Rosie scooted over beside Elizbeth and they huddled close. Elizbeth glimpsed two riders as they sped past the window on Rosie’s side of the carriage. How Elizbeth wished she had learned to shoot a pistol. She would put a hole in the head of any man who opened the door.

  The carriage stopped. More shouts rose without. Matthew’s voice, and one she didn’t recognize.

  “Put down the musket, lad,” ordered a deep masculine voice. “I have no wish to shoot you.”

  “You will have to shoot me, ye bastard.”

  “By God, Bhradain, he will force us to shoot him,” said another man.

  “Lower your weapon,” the first man—Bhradain—said.

  Two heartbeats of silence passed, then someone muttered something unintelligible. An instant later, the coach dipped, as if someone had climbed up onto the rider’s seat, then lurched into motion. They made a slow turn away from home. Elizbeth looked at Rosie.

  “What is happening?” Rosie whispered.

  Elizbeth shook her head. She didn’t know. If the brigands had run away, Matthew would continue toward home. Elizbeth released Rosie’s hand and moved to the opposite seat.

  Rosie’s eyes went wide with fear, but Elizbeth ignored her and scooted over to the window. Carefully, she peered out and caught sight of one rider, leading a riderless horse, a bit ahead of them on the roadway. The second rider had to be in the driver’s seat with Matthew.

  She couldn’t allow them to kidnap her and Rosie. No one would have the slightest idea what had become of them. “We must escape, Rosie,” Elizbeth whispered.

  Rosie’s eyes widened. “Escape? How can we possibly escape?”

  That was a good question. “Perhaps if we jump—”

  “Jump?” Rosie cut in, voice high with fear. “We will break our necks.”

  “Shh,” Elizbeth hissed. She aimed a firm look at her maid. “If we stay on this road, they will have to slow down going around the curve near Littleton Manor. We could jump out then without hurting ourselves.”

  Rosie shook her head. “It is insane.”

  “What is insane is allowing ourselves to be carried off by strangers. Now, you will do as I say.”

  Rosie chewed on her bottom lip. “I do not think I can jump.”

  “Never fear, I will hold your hand.” Elizbeth scooted back beside Rosie. “You must remain quiet no matter what. If they hear us, all will be lost.”

  They fell silent and, five minutes later, the carriage began the turn that would lead them past Littleton Manor. Elizbeth grasped Rosie’s hand again. She met the maid’s gaze and gently squeezed.

  “Are you ready?”

  Rosie shook her head.

  Elizbeth coul
dn’t help a small laugh. “Neither am I. But we have no choice.”

  Carefully, she pressed down on the door handle. It opened with an almost silent click. Holding onto the handle to keep the door from flinging open more than a sliver, she scooted closer and looked down at the ground, which still seemed to be passing far too fast.

  “We will wait until the coach slows a little more,” she told Rosie.

  The turn tightened and the carriage slowed further. Elizbeth eased the door open all the way and put one foot in the doorway. With her free hand, she tugged Rosie until the maid crouched in the doorway with her.

  “On three,” Elizbeth whispered. Rosie’s hand trembled in hers.

  Elizbeth mouthed the words one, two, three. She jumped, pulling Rosie with her.

  Chapter Seven

  The ground seemed to rise up to meet them. Elizbeth intended to land on her feet, but she tripped and landed on her shoulder. Pain radiated down her arm and into her fingers. Rosie cried out. Elizbeth rolled onto her back and forced herself onto her feet. She stumbled to Rosie, who sat shaking her head.

  Elizbeth reached her side and extended a hand. “Give me your hand.”

  Rosie looked up at her. Elizbeth thought her maid looked dazed, but her own vision blurred slightly, so she couldn’t be certain.

  “Whoa,” one of the men shouted.

  Elizbeth looked back up the bank at the coach. They were slowing.

  “Quick, give me your hand,” she ordered the maid.

  Rosie clasped Elizbeth’s hand and Elizbeth groaned as she pulled the girl to her feet. She glanced toward home and found the carriage had disappeared round the bend. She started to release a sigh of relief, but gasped when a rider appeared. The man came back down the roadway toward them. The bank they’d rolled down wasn’t steep enough to hinder a horse. How could they possibly escape a man on horseback? Littleton manor lay half a mile away. She pulled Rosie into a run and headed for the tree line, fifty feet distant. They were thirty feet out when the pounding of horse’s hooves bore down on them.

  Elizbeth released Rosie’s hand. “Run as fast as you can, Rosie. He cannot chase us both.”

  Rosie shook her head. “I will not leave you.”

  The trees were twenty feet away. Elizbeth veered to the left. Rosie started to follow.

  “Run, Rosie, Run,” Elizbeth shouted.

  Elizbeth yanked up her skirts and forced her legs to pump faster. Fear stabbed when the rider veered toward her. Tears stung her eyes. At least Rosie had a chance at escape. She would tell Father what happened. Nae, not her father. What did he care? Rosie would tell Uncle Graham.

  The trees were but ten feet ahead. Perhaps she could reach them. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the rider. An arm clamped around her waist and yanked her against the horse. She kicked and pounded the leg of her attacker with her fists.

  He pulled the horse to a sudden halt. Elizbeth’s head jolted. Savage with fear, she bit down on the man’s leg. He cursed and released her. She dropped to the ground on her backside.

  She ignored the pain in her buttocks and pushed to her feet. She spun and ran. Iron fingers closed around her arm. He jerked her back against his body. Elizbeth screamed. He hauled her over his shoulder. Her head spun. He whistled and the horse started toward them. Elizbeth kicked and pounded his back with her fists.

  He clamped an arm harder across her legs. “Cease fighting, Miss McKinley. I mean you no harm.”

  Elizbeth went still. He knew her name? Dear God, he intended to ransom her. Father would be furious. She almost wanted to laugh. What were the odds kidnappers would kidnap one of James McKinley’s daughters, just when he had decided to marry them off as political pawns in his plot to gain the Crown?

  It actually served him right. Oh, but wouldn’t Robert feel terrible when he learned that after calling her a liar and sending her away, she’d been kidnapped on the way home? But she was deluding herself. Robert wouldn’t—didn’t—care. Otherwise, he would never have sent her away, especially seeing how upset she was. As for her father, he would only care that he lost one of his most precious pawns.

  None of that mattered. She’d seen the men’s faces. They would get their ransom, then kill her. Now that they knew she wouldn’t go meekly, they would bind her hands and legs. She had no intention of allowing her father to ship her off to France to marry some strange Frenchman, but neither did she intend to let these men kill her. She had to be more clever in her next escape attempt.

  The horse reached them and the man fitted a booted foot into the stirrup, then stepped into the saddle. Elizbeth twisted hard and kicked. He lost his balance and they crashed to the ground, her on top of him. Elizbeth rolled off, leapt to her feet and lunged straight into a hard chest. Heaven above, the man was everywhere. Strong fingers closed on her shoulder. She cried out as he shook her.

  “By God, Elizbeth, you couldn’t keep quiet long enough to reach home?”

  She snapped her head up and looked into the eyes of Robert McFarlan. Her jaw hinged open. He thrust her behind him and yanked a pistol from his waistband as the other man shoved to his feet.

  “Do not move,” Robert ordered. “What do— Bhradain Haywood? What in God’s name are you doing here, man?”

  “Making sure Miss McKinley does not reach Kaerndal Hall,” the man Robert had addressed as Mister Haywood replied in a hoarse voice. “The lass knocked the wind from me, blast her.”

  Elizbeth stepped out from behind Robert. “You know this man, Mister McFarlan?” She drew herself up. “You had better explain yourself, sir. Nae,” she added before he could reply. “I have no wish to speak with you.” She faced the other man. “As for you, you gave myself and my maid quite a scare. Oh, dear, Rosie. Someone must find her.”

  “What has Rosie to do with this?” Robert demanded.

  “Not that it is any of your concern, but she ran into the trees in order escape our kidnappers.”

  Robert looked at Mister Haywood. “Kidnappers? Have you gone mad?”

  “A Frenchman arrived at Kaerndal Hall this morning. Faucon, he calls himself,” Mister Haywood said. “He’s been sent for them.”

  Robert gave a sharp nod. “I received word of the Frenchman just after—” He broke off at the widening of Elizbeth’s eyes and shoved his pistol into his belt. “What of the others?”

  “What others?” Elizbeth demanded.

  Mister Haywood shook his head, attention on Robert. “Only Miss McKinley has passed on the road since we arrived.”

  “Which means they are taken,” Robert murmured.

  “Very likely,” Mister Haywood said.

  “Who has been taken?” Fear settled in Elizbeth’s gut.

  “I will pay a visit to Kaerndal Hall and ascertain if Faucon intends to remove the other women immediately or to await Miss McKinley,” Robert said to Mister Haywood.

  Elizbeth’s heart sped up. “Are you referring to my aunt and sister?”

  “I plan to take Miss McKinley to Elden,” Mister Haywood said.

  “I will meet you there when I have news.” Robert spoke over her head to Mister Haywood.

  “I am not going anywhere without an explanation,” Elizbeth said. “And a chaperone.”

  “We do not have time for dramatics, Elizbeth,” Robert snapped.

  She started. He had addressed her by her Christian name. He did that only when they were alone, and even then, only rarely. Then his words penetrated her brain.

  “Dramatics? You call me a liar and send me away. I am set upon by highwayman who, as it turns out, you know. Then you speak of women who can be none other than my aunt and sister. This is not dramatics, sir, but sound reasoning that I should understand what is happening.”

  “There is no time. Later—”

  She slapped him.

  He met her gaze squarely. “Feel better?”

  She wanted to slap him a second time. “Say what you will, Mister McFarlan, but I am returning home.” She spun.

  He seized h
er wrist and swung her into his arms. If he had done this an hour ago, she would have been in heaven. Now, hurt and fury mingled with a ferocity that made her wish she had a pistol with which to shoot him.

  “Put me down this instant!”

  “Do not force me to bind your hands and feet,” he growled.

  Elizbeth gasped. “You would not dare.”

  “Wouldn’t I?” He glanced around. “Where is the carriage?”

  “I left it,” Mister Haywood replied. “Miss McKinley’s driver and Daniel are up around the bend.”

  “Daniel is with you?” Robert asked, surprise clear in his voice.

  “Who is Daniel?” Elizbeth demanded, more out of anger at being ignored than from any real care. Neither gentleman looked at her.

  Mister Haywood offered Robert a nod. “Aye, he is here. As you seem to have your hands full, I’ll fetch them.” He swung onto his horse and started up the roadway.

  Elizbeth twisted in an effort to break free of Robert’s grasp, but he hugged her so tight she could barely breathe. Her nostrils caught the hint of orange mingled with his masculine scent. Her heart clenched. She’d thought never to touch him again. The compulsion to melt against his broad chest and beg him to keep her safe nearly overwhelmed her. Nae. She would never again give him the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable.

  “You are cruel,” she cried.

  “I am doing this for your own good.”

  “Put her down,” said a familiar male voice behind Robert.

  “Uncle Graham,” Elizbeth cried.

  Robert started to turn. The unmistakable click of a hammer being pulled back cut through the air. Robert froze.

  “Turn slowly and release my niece,” her uncle said.

  “McKinley, you do not understand what is happening,” Robert said.

  Uncle Graham gave a mirthless laugh. “I understand you planned to kidnap my niece.”

  Robert lowered her feet to the ground. Elizbeth rushed to her uncle.

  “Run into the trees, Elizbeth,” he ordered, not taking his gaze from Robert. “My horse is there. Ride home.” He gave her a quick glance. “But don’t go in, or to the stable. Hide in the elm grove until I come for you.”