“How would you use the content of that vial to get past a room full of men?” he asked.
“I would dump it into a jug of wine and serve it to them.”
Graham shook his head. “They would know I drugged the wine.” He didn’t wish to flee with Davina and Margarette, tempting as that was. Haywood spoke true. He needed to stay with James to try to mitigate the insanity. “James will require someone to pin this on. On top of that, I cannot guarantee they will all drink.”
She pursed her lips, lips he’d hardly need to dip his head to taste. Her brow furrowed in thought. “I have it.” Her eyes lit. “You drink the wine, too, just not as much. Once most of them, if not all, are asleep or groggy, I will come in, armed and disguised as a man, and order everyone out. Then I can disappear, never to be found, as the man I’ll be won’t exist, and you will be free to get past them.” Her brow wrinkled again. “Why do you need to get past them?”
“To rescue two women.”
Miss Ingram’s lips formed a new pout. “The ones you were with all day? I need you to marry me. I cannot help you rescue other women.”
“I am not about to marry anyone. The women are my relations. James is trying to force them to wed where they do not wish.” Safe enough information to give her.
“Oh, then we must save them,” she stated with renewed enthusiasm. “That is why I ran away from home, you know. My family is trying to force me to wed a terrible old man who’s had four wives already. I simply cannot. I will not.”
Indignation only enhanced her beauty. “That is fascinating, but not as pressing as freeing my sister and niece.”
“Yes, of course, and once we succeed, we can talk a bit more about our marriage.”
Graham shook his head but held his tongue. He stepped back. “How will we disguise you as a man?”
“That will be easy. First, help me sneak into the servants’ quarters.”
Not half an hour later, Graham stood in the kitchen doorway, a jug of wine in one hand, a deck of playing cards in the other. James’s men, bored of hours sitting in the kitchen and familiar with Graham, readily joined him in a game of cards. Another quarter of an hour later, every man around the table slumped in his chair.
Graham pushed unsteadily to his feet, hands braced on the tabletop. He’d drunk little of the wine. Just enough to assuage suspicion. Still, the room spun around him. He’d seen the level of the vial. If it had been full before the night Miss Ingram drugged him, it was no wonder he recollected nothing. A shadow fell across the card table. Graham looked up.
“Matland.” He blinked the other man into focus to find he aimed a pistol at Graham. “What are you about?” Where was Anastacia?
“It’s McFarlan,” Matland snapped. “What the devil is going on here?”
The pistol remained aimed at Graham’s chest. “You tell me, McFarlan.”
“I came to check on the ladies.” He looked about. “And I find you here, hardly able to stand, surrounded by unconscious guards.”
Graham nodded, the movement nearly toppling him forward. He gripped the table edge harder. Had Matland entered with gun drawn to get past the guards and save the women? Or had he drawn upon seeing Graham in a room full of James’s unconscious guards?
A shadow moved behind Matland. An arm dropped. The hilt of a pistol collided with the back of Matland’s head. He crumpled to the floor. Anastacia, dressed as a lad, swayed in the doorway. No, Graham realized. He swayed. She stood still. A warm smile curved her lips, much more attractive than that silly pout she so often employed.
She crossed the room to him. Long fingers stoked his jaw. “I see I needn’t have donned a disguise. You did an admirable job of getting them to drink.”
Graham leaned into that caress. “It’s a skill,” he said, words slurred.
“You sit back down and have another glass, sweets,” she said. “I have mounts and provisions hidden without. I shall free your niece and sister.”
Hardly able to stand, Graham nodded and sank into his chair. “Tell them…” He blinked back the fog engulfing him. “Tell them I love them, and I will watch after James, and, tell them it’s all true. Go to the source. Visit our aunt.” He struggled to say more. “And warn Davina Hay…stack…wood…field…”
“Shh.” Anastacia lifted his wine glass to his lips. She helped him take a deep drink. Setting the cup aside, she leaned over him and brought her face in line with his. “You did well tonight, Graham.”
He couldn’t help but smile. He so rarely heard honest praise. At least, not for accomplishments rendered outside the bedchamber. Anastacia’s smile grew. Warm lips covered his own. Graham devoured the taste of cinnamon. Too soon, she drew away. He reached for her, but his arms merely twitched at his sides.
“Miss Ingram, marry me.” She must, for he’d discovered the most interesting, beguiling creature on God’s earth. He had to make her his own.
She chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart, you will remember none of this come morning, so I won’t hold you to that.” She patted him on the cheek and sauntered away.
Exerting his will, Graham turned his head to look after her. His struggled to sharpen his gaze on the sway of her hips. He would never look at a pair of breeches the same. Even Miss Ingram’s heart shaped derrière, surely the finest he’d seen, couldn’t stave off the darkness that swarmed in from the edges of his vision. Her fine posterior and long legs skewed sideways as she disappeared in the direction of the root cellar.
Darkness overtook him. An instant later, his cheek collided with the table.
Chapter Sixteen
Footsteps sounded without. Davina cast a quick glance at Margarette, who slumbered fitfully on her pallet. Davina’s mouth thinned. James may have taken her funds and jewelry, but he hadn’t had her searched. As silently as she could, she grasped the small pistol stuck under her garter and stood. She crept to the middle of the room, between her niece and the door. It could mean nothing good that someone came for her and Margarette in the dead of night.
The door swung open. A slender young man stood silhouetted against the brighter light of the hall. Davina squinted. Seigneur Faucon? Had he come for Margarette? He was a fool to come alone. Davina tightened her grip on the small gun. He would have to go through her to get to Margarette.
“Miss McKinley?” a feminine, English accented voice queried.
“Miss…” Davina wracked her brain, surprise making her slow. “Miss Irgum?”
“Miss Ingram,” the woman said lightly. She stepped into the doorway. “Your brother, Graham, sent me to free you.”
Hope welled up, mingled with fear. Was this some new treachery? She glanced at the pistol Miss Ingram held at her side, then said, “Graham? Where is he?”
“He is in the kitchen, passed out.” Miss Ingram shrugged. “We drugged the guards. He had to drink the wine in order to get them to drink.”
“Aunt Davina?” Margarette’s voice blended confusion and fear.
Davina raised her voice slightly rather than turn from Miss Ingram. “This is a friend of your uncle’s. She says she’s here to free us.”
“I am here to free you,” Miss Ingram said firmly.
“Free us?” In a rustle of skirts, Margarette sprang to her feet and stepped up beside Davina. “Oh, thank you.”
Davina held out an arm as her niece made to rush forward. “How do we know this isn’t a trick? What is your plan, to put us in a carriage, and the next thing we know, we find ourselves on the docks and bundled into a ship?”
Margarette gasped.
Miss Ingram shook her head. “This is no trap. Graham said your other brother, James, means to force you to wed, and that we must save you. He also said to tell you it is all true, and to go to the source and to visit your aunt.” Miss Ingram shrugged, again. “He was rather incoherent when he said all that, though.” She gestured behind her. “There are horses and provisions hidden without.”
Davina studied her. “You are a stranger. Why help him?”
“Well
, you see, I am trying to get him to marry me.”
Davina scoffed. “Then you are either an idiot or a fool.”
Miss Ingram drew herself up. “I am neither. I happen to be very fond of Graham.”
“A fool it is, then.”
“Aunt Davina.” Margarette placed a tentative hand on Davina’s arm. “She has unbarred the door. Should we not go?”
Davina gave a sharp nod. She gestured to Miss Ingram. “Hand over that pistol and you may show us to the horses.”
Miss Ingram proffered the gun, hilt first. Relief washed through Davina as her hand closed over the smooth metal. Double barreled and definitely more reliable than her muff pistol. The weapon weighted her dress when she shoved it into her skirt pocket. Unceremoniously, she returned her much smaller weapon to its hiding place under her skirt.
That accomplished, she nodded. “Lead the way.”
They followed Miss Ingram up from the root cellar and through the scullery to the kitchen. Sure enough, Graham and a dozen of James’s men slumped around the broad kitchen table, cards and overturned wineglasses littering the surface. They rounded the table and Margarette let out a little squeak. A man, pistol just out of reach, lay sprawled face down on the floor.
“Is that Robert McFarlan?” Davina asked, mingled shock and fear shooting through her.
“Is it?” Miss Ingram poked the still form with a toe.
“What happened to him?” Margarette whispered.
“He got hit on the head,” Miss Ingram said. “He came in pointing a pistol at Graham and I hit him.” She poked him with her booted foot again. “Hard.”
Davina liked to think Robert McFarlan had come to save them, but did that hope stem from Elizbeth’s love for the man or reality? If he’d come to save them, why point a gun at Graham?
She bent and took his gun, then turned toward the kitchen door. “Are the horses this way?”
“We are going to leave Mister McFarlan there?” Margarette asked.
“He helped your father capture us,” Davina said. “We cannot trust him. We must go, Margarette.”
“But, Elizbeth—”
“No buts, Margarette,” Davina said. “We must go.”
“Your aunt is right.” Miss Ingram strode toward the kitchen door. “I can only assume your father planned to change the guards at some point. You must hurry. Mister McKinley is influential enough, he could probably see me hang.”
Margarette didn’t protest as Davina hustled her to the door and out, into the moonlit night. Miss Ingram’s charcoal man’s garb and the cap that covered her blonde locks blended her with the darker shadows. Davina increased her pace, tugging Margarette along. Every nerve tingled. Davina clutched Robert’s pistol close, reassured by the weight of the second weapon in her pocket.
Miss Ingram led them through the garden and into the deeper shadows of the elm grove. There, two large, snorting shadows waited. As they drew near, Davina could see the horses were laden with saddlebags.
Miss Ingram turned and cupped her hands. “I will give you a leg up.”
“Help Margarette.” Davina pulled the pistol from her pocket and stowed both guns in the saddlebag of the closest horse. She fitted a booted toe to the stirrup, then swung into the saddle in time to see Miss Ingram help Margarette up.
“I shan’t tell you where we’re headed,” Davina said. “It is best if Graham does not know.” Although he would, if his garbled message meant what she thought it did, that they should go to their Great Aunt Saundra. A solid plan. Aunt Saundra had the resources to protect them, even from James, whether the Frenchman’s story proved true or not. It sounded as if Graham, at least, believed the tale.
“All for the best, for I don’t wish to know,” Miss Ingram said in that easy way of hers. “There is money in your saddlebag, Miss McKinley.”
Davina raised her eyebrows. “Thank you.”
“You aren’t coming with us?” Margarette asked.
Miss Ingram shook her head. “I will stay here and keep an eye on Graham. He’s apt to get into trouble without me.”
Davina studied the tall woman, who exuded elegance, even dressed as a man. “You actually care for my brother.”
The heartbeat of silence that passed told Davina of the woman’s shock. Her first unguarded response, Davina realized. She wouldn’t force the words from Miss Ingram. Her silence spoke the truth well enough.
“Guard your heart,” Davina said. “Graham has never shown any inclination to give up his rakish ways.”
“I thank you for the advice, Miss McKinley.”
In the murky shadows, Davina couldn’t see the smile she heard in the woman’s voice. Davina shook her head. Each woman her brother dallied with thought she could change Graham.
“Follow me, Margarette,” Davina said. “We must walk the horses until we reach the roadway. We must keep quiet.”
“Travel well.” Miss Ingram stepped back, instantly blending with the elm trunks about them.
Davina maneuvered her mount into a careful turn among the trees, then waited while Margarette took much longer to accomplish the same. Time ticked away in rhythm with Davina’s pulse. Once their absence was discovered, men would be called. Torches would be lit and the hounds summoned.
The moment Margarette had her mount facing the road, Davina set off through the trees. Mentally, she rehearsed the road to Great Aunt Saundra’s Highland castle. They would keep to the main roads, for speed, their greater ally than stealth. They wouldn’t halt at the first inn, where they usually broke for lunch, nor the second, where they were accustomed to spending the night.
Astride, they would cover more ground than a carriage. They would ride through the night to a small, out-of-the-way inn she’d observed from the carriage window several times. There, they could rest a few hours before pressing on.
James might guess their route, but not her resolve. Should he take the Highland road, he must halt at every inn to inquire after them, search every glen and dale. If fortune favored her and Margarette, he wouldn’t pursue them that night. Davina sent up a prayer that he wouldn’t catch them at all. She had a real pistol now and James’s barbaric behavior had her itching to use it.
They reached the roadway, easier going by moonlight than the grove had been. She turned back to Margarette, who already hunched in the saddle. Well, the girl would have to bear up.
Davina drew alongside her niece. “Margarette, you understand, if your father captures us again, we will have no chance of escape?”
Margarette nodded. “What of Elizbeth? How can we find her?”
Davina shook her head. “That chance is lost to us. Staying to look would be our doom. We must take comfort in knowing that she is not in Kaerndal Hall, and make our escape.”
Margarette gave a shaky nod.
Davina locked gazes with her niece. “You must be strong, Margarette. You must follow me, keep riding at all costs, and be strong. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Margarette said, voice small.
“Good, because we ride for our freedom, maybe even our lives.”
With that, Davina urged her mount into a cantor. She didn’t look back, but if she heard any evidence James followed, she’d give her horse his head and they would run.
***
A scream pierced the darkness. Robert jerked. Pain sliced up his neck. He heard a groan, then realized the sound came from him.
“McFarlan,” a voice penetrated the murk from which he struggled to escape.
Ice cold water sluiced over his face. Robert jerked and snapped open his eyes. He sprawled on the floor of James McKinley’s kitchen with several maids, Cook and Graham staring down at him. Graham held an empty pitcher.
Several other men—James’s guards from last night, if his fuzzy memory was correct—lay passed out at the table where he’d found Graham. One had fallen from his chair onto the floor. The pounding of bootfalls sounded from the hallway and, an instant later, James, that bastard Faucon and the large Scot, MacGregor, burst int
o the room. Robert levered into a sitting position, head throbbing.
James’s gaze swept the room. “What the bloody hell—” His eyes widened. “Davina and Margarette.” He pushed past the servants and disappeared into the scullery with Faucon on his heels.
Robert looked at Graham, who kept his gaze fixed on the scullery door. Robert pushed to his feet and winced when pain splinted up his neck from the spot where his assailant had struck him with what he guessed was the butt of a pistol. Who had assaulted him? On the other side of the kitchen, MacGregor watched him through narrowed eyes.
“By all that is holy, McKinley, how did you let them escape?” A slew of French curses followed Faucon’s demand as bootfalls approached the kitchen.
Robert swiped the water from his face, then froze when James stopped just inside the kitchen, eyes blazing. Faucon halted beside him.
James pinned Graham with a glare. “What happened, Graham? And be quick with the answer. I may shoot you along with everyone else in this room.”
“By God, James, where are Davina and Margarette?” James started to push past his brother, but James shoved him back. Graham stumbled back to paces before catching himself.
“Answer my question,” James growled. “What happened?”
Graham’s mouth thinned. “I was playing cards with our men last night. The next thing I know, I woke up and…” His gaze swept the room.
Several of the men about the table began to stir. One man’s eyes widened on James and he pushed to his feet, stumbling back several paces before catching himself.
James’s eyes snapped onto Robert. “McFarlan?”
Robert started to shake his head, then stopped when pain splinted through his skull. “Like your brother, I know nothing more,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I only just awoke myself.”
Behind him, one of the guards groaned.
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