The Highwayman and The Lady (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  He frowned. "Well, I was wrong to come in here knocking furniture around and shouting at you. There's no excuse for ill behavior like that in front of a lady."

  Saity burst into a fit of giggles, covering her face with her damp apron. "A lady! Me! Come now, you knew me back in Mother Godwin's. You know what I done to turn a coin. It's only by luck ye didn't have a piece of my peppered tail."

  Kincaid smiled, glad she could look at herself and her past and make light of it. "It's not what title a woman carries or what she does that makes her a lady, it's here." He tapped his chest over his heart. "It's what's in here that makes you a lady, Saity. And you are a lady."

  Grinning shyly, she reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a wheel of cheese wrapped in cloth. "So now ye flattered me shamelessly and brought me presents. I know what ye want, ye sly weasel."

  "Please, Saity." He clasped his hands. "I was up all night. I've thought long and hard on this. I can't live without Meg. I don't care what she's done. My father was a cruel bastard. I would guess Meg killed him in self-defense and that it was not murder as my uncle claimed. Saity, the man deserved it. I forgive her. I just want her back."

  Saity stared at the orange in her hand. "I told her to jest tell you the truth. I told her you loved her enough to let it go." She frowned. "But she wouldn't hear of it. She thought that if she left, you'd never know the truth and get hurt by it."

  Kincaid removed his hat and tossed it on the table. "I understand why she did it. I just want her back. I want a life with her. My days on the highway are done. I have no life without her."

  Saity tugged on a lock of her blond hair. "Well, the thing is, we got a problem."

  "What problem? Just tell me where she's gone. I'll find her. I'll tell her I love her. I'll take her to the colonies where she wants to go, far from Rutledge, and we'll have that life we dreamed of."

  "You don't understand. I promised."

  "Promised what?"

  "That I wouldn't tell where she's gone. I swore that even if you tortured me I wouldn't tell."

  "Tortured you?" Kincaid made a face. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

  Saity sat down on a stool, her orange still in her hand. "I think you really do love Meg and that you belong together like the moon and the stars. But I gave my word, and what else have I got but my word."

  Kincaid began to pace. "All right. All right. We can work something out here. Can you take me there?"

  "Don't know where it is."

  He looked up, fearing what she implied. "Please don't tell me she's sailed for the American colonies alone."

  Saity grimaced. "Not yet, she ain't."

  "But she says she's going there?"

  "I ain't supposed to say."

  Kincaid groaned, frustrated. He walked back and forth behind Saity's chair. "All right. Meg's going to America, but she hasn't left yet, right?"

  "Right." She pointed. "But I didn't say that. You guessed it yourself, you sly devil."

  He smiled. "All right. So she's hiding out, from me and from my uncle since both of us are looking for her. Yes?" He lifted a brow, waiting for confirmation.

  She sniffed the orange. "Seems like it would make sense . . ."

  "So where would she hide, Saity? Not here. Not here, because you knew I'd come here first."

  "Well, she ain't just hiding. She had something to do before she went."

  "Something to do?" He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Something to do before she left England. Think, Kincaid. Think like Meg would. What would be important to her?" He looked up at Saity. "She didn't go back to Mother Godwin's or Newgate, did she?"

  Saity made a face that indicated he was correct.

  He shook his fist. "Damn. Where would she go? She doesn't know anyone here in London. Her husband is dead. Her family is all dead. She had no one else." He looked up suddenly, a bolt of lightning going through his head. He remembered the tiny grave outside the Rutledge churchyard where he'd left the apple blossom. "Ah, hell, Saity. She had no one else . . . but the baby." He took a step toward her. "Please don't tell me she went back to Rutledge Castle to the baby's grave."

  Saity lifted her palms. "I didn't say nothin', mind you. You was so smart, you figured it out on your own." She pointed. "And I expect ye to tell Meg that when ye settle matters between yourselves. I don't want her thinkin' I didn't stick to my word."

  "Hell." He grabbed his hat off the table and dropped it onto his head. "I was hoping I'd never have to set foot on that land again."

  Saity followed him to the door. "You gonna go get her? Sweep her up in them big strong arms of yours and kiss her?"

  "I'm going to go talk to her." He went down the steps. "Tell her how I feel. And if she's willing, I'm going to marry her, today."

  Saity leaned over the rail of her stoop, watching him climb onto his horse. "You bring her back here 'afore you sail off to Injun country, you hear me? She's already got a ticket paid for."

  Kincaid shook his head as he lifted his reins to back up his horse. Meg's capabilities never failed to surprise him. How a woman who had lived such a sheltered, abused life up until a few months ago had managed to book herself passage to the colonies, and gotten away so cleanly, he didn't know. But the one thing he did know was that if they could fix this, if she would marry him, their life together would be long and happy. As long as they lived, she would always be full of surprises.

  Kincaid raised his hand as he started off down the street. "Enjoy your orange, Saity, and thanks again."

  She just stood on the stoop, smiling and peeling her orange.

  Meg walked up the hill toward the churchyard with Annie skipping along beside her. At first Meg had hesitated at the idea of Annie coming along. A part of her wanted to go alone, to be alone at her son's grave. But then she realized that perhaps it would be better if she didn't go alone. Having the child with her might actually help her deal with her feelings.

  When Meg had questioned Annie as to whether it would be all right for her to leave the cottage without her grandmother knowing it, the child insisted her grandmother had already given her permission last night. Annie said her grandmother had said she would try to make it back by morning, but it depended on how quickly the next babe entered the world. If Mavis didn't make it by morning, Annie said they were to go on without her.

  As Meg and Annie walked toward the church, they stopped to pick wildflowers in the tall, swaying grass along the road. The sun shone on their faces and a light wind carried off the trees. Annie sang, lightening Meg's heart.

  As she walked toward the castle that loomed on the hill ahead, memories washed over Meg—memories she'd just as soon forget. But they were tempered by more recent memories that made her smile bittersweetly.

  Meg knew in her heart that the night Kincaid had picked her up on this highway, he had truly saved her life. Not just her physical body, but the life inside her. Kincaid's love had given her the will to live, to survive despite her horrid past. And now, even though they could never be together again, his child would give her another kind of happiness she yearned for. Again, Kincaid was giving her possibilities she had never known existed. And for that, she would forever be grateful.

  They reached the place in the road where the church was, and Annie skipped down the unmowed path toward the dilapidated building. "This way. Been here before with Grandmama. She tends the graves, you know."

  Meg stared at the church. "Why hasn't anyone fixed the door?" she asked. She had forgotten how run-down the church was.

  "Don't have service no more. Not since . . ." Annie looked over her shoulder "Not since you left."

  "And the vicar? Has he left."

  "No." She lifted a shoulder. "Grandmama says he spends most of his time in the ordinary in his cups."

  Meg frowned. "I see."

  Annie reached the iron fence that marked off the churchyard and skirted it. She picked up a stick and ran it along the top spikes, making repetitive clanking sound. "This way."


  Meg stopped at the gate. "It . . . it's inside the churchyard?"

  "Nope. The earl wouldn't 'llow it, Grandmama said."

  Meg gripped the flowers in her hand tightly. "Bastard," she muttered under her breath.

  "Here it is." She stopped at a tiny wooden cross on the outside of the fence.

  Meg took a deep breath. She remembered the pain she had suffered to give her son life and the joy she had felt the moment she heard his first cry. Then the sadness had crept in. Such a perfect child, but for his twisted little mouth.

  Meg wouldn't allow herself to think beyond those first few minutes when Mavis put her baby in her arms. It was just too painful to remember what happened after Philip came into their bedchamber. The ranting . . . the raving . .

  Annie went down on her knees, lifting the skirt of her blue homespun dress. "Look, someone's left an apple blossom for your baby." She twirled it between her fingers before returning it to the grave.

  Meg came to stand at the foot of the grave that was so small. "Your grandmother, I suppose."

  "I guess." Annie bounced up. "I'm gonna go see if there's any honey in the comb that hangs on the back of the church." She skipped away. "Grandmama loves honey on her biscuits."

  Meg watched the little girl dance through the churchyard gate and disappear around the back of the old church. Finally Meg's gaze came to rest on the grave at her feet again. "John," she whispered, smiling, close to tears. "My sweet Johnny."

  Meg knelt in the warm grass and gently laid the flowers she and Annie had picked beside the apple blossom. She stared at the cross, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come back," she whispered to her first born. "Only your mother's had quite an adventure."

  She laughed, wiping at her tears with the back of her. "I know, Margaret Randall having an adventure, what a joke. But I'm not Margaret anymore, Johnny. I'm Meg. The Meg my grandmother loved. The Meg who's not afraid to stand up for herself or those she loves."

  She began to arrange the flowers on the grave. "That evil is gone, Johnny. Your father. Rotting in hell, I hope." She sniffed. "But you must forgive him. It's a sickness with these Randall men, you know. They're just evil."

  Then she smiled. "Well, not all of them. There's Kincaid . . . James Randall. He . . . He's your half-brother, but also . . ." Meg looked away, fighting her tears. "Also Mama's true love. I know it's confusing, but . . . but I'm going to have his baby. Your brother or sister."

  "Only now I have to go away from England, a place far from here." Meg sighed, looking over the wooden cross that bore no name. "That's why I had to come, John. To tell you goodbye. Mama has to go because there's a bad man after her. In a place called America Mama will be safe."

  She wiped at her eyes. "I won't be able to see you again, not here. But we'll meet in heaven and then Mama will hold you—"

  "Oddsfish . . . how touching."

  Meg looked up, the sound of the voice sending a shiver of terror down her spine. "Rutledge!"

  "Who else?"

  Meg scrambled to her feet. Where had he come from? Why hadn't she heard him or seen him? He had her pinned against the rusty iron fence.

  "I knew I would find you." He chuckled, his disfigured mouth turning up. "But it never occurred to me you'd be such a fool, Margaret, as to deliver yourself into my hands."

  "Get away from me," Meg said between clenched teeth.

  "You thought you could run from me, did you little Margaret?" He pointed with his gold-tipped walking cane. "But of course you couldn't. Here I was, taking an early morning ride, and God delivered you into my hands. And who says the Randalls are cursed?"

  Meg noticed for the first time the horse tied to a tree near the church door. Rutledge had ridden right up to her and she'd been so lost in her thoughts that she'd never heard him.

  She pressed her back against the fence, the iron bars biting into her flesh. "Let me go, Percival."

  "Let you go? But I've spent months looking for you, darling."

  "It was self-defense, Percival. I killed Philip because after he killed the baby, he turned on me." She stared the mean bastard in the eyes, less afraid than she thought she should have been. "You know it's true. You know I'd not have harmed him otherwise. I'll tell my story in court. I'll find witnesses to attest to his character. Anyone who knew him knew he was capable of killing his wife. He probably killed the others."

  Percival sighed, shaking his head. "Margaret, Margaret, ever the naive one." He leaned on his stick. "Of course he killed the others. Apparently it took but a few stabs to take care of both Mary and Anne. And everyone thought the blood was from childbirth."

  Meg stared at Rutledge in horror. He killed them? Kincaid's mother? Timid Anne, the young woman who'd brought sweets to the nursery for Meg? "He killed them," she whispered. "And he really was going to kill me."

  "My brother wanted another perfect child like that snot-nosed James. If one wife couldn't provide, he assumed the next could," Rutledge explained coldly.

  Meg shook her head in horror. "And you allowed the murders in your household?" she dared. "That makes you as guilty as he."

  Rutledge sighed. "I told him it wasn't wise. I warned him that eventually someone would become suspicious and not marry off his daughter to him. But they all wanted their daughters to marry into a wealthy, titled family. Your grandmother wanted that for you, didn't she?"

  As he spoke, Meg slid along the fence, edging away from him so slowly that she prayed he wouldn't see her motion. "She didn't know the truth. If she'd known, she'd not have—"

  Percival burst into laughter. "She'd what? She'd have given you to Philip anyway. You meant nothing to her. You've never meant anything to anyone, Margaret, dear."

  Meg stared at him, her eyes narrowed in anger. If she'd had a knife in her hand at this moment she'd have done him in the same way she had Philip. "So what are you going to do with me?" she asked boldly. As she spoke, she moved her foot a hair's-breadth to the left. "Call the authorities? Have me arrested and thrown into prison?"

  "I considered that, but thought I might deal with you on my own. Afterall, it was my brother you murdered. I should think I would have a right to seek my vengeance."

  His words made her skin crawl. "He killed my baby," she said venomously.

  "His right as the father. As your husband, madame."

  Out of the corner of her eye, Meg caught a glimpse of Annie's blue dress whipping around the corner of the lime-washed church. Please, Meg prayed silently. Run and get help, Annie. Run into the village. Of course who would help her there? Who would go against the earl to save her?

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  Meg's head snapped around to look straight into Rutledge's eyes. They were the same color brown as Kincaid's and yet they held none of the warmth, none of the humanness of Kincaid's. Rutledge was cold, a cold, unfeeling son of a bitch.

  "I said what do you think you're doing?" He struck the fence beside her with his cane.

  Meg forced herself not to flinch. She knew this game of intimidation all too well. She'd played it too long. But no longer.

  "I'm not doing anything," she snapped. "Except for trying to save my own life."

  He laughed, taking a step closer to her.

  Annie was gone. Meg could no longer see her.

  "Goodness, we've become forward haven't we, Margaret? All those months in that wicked city of London, I suppose. Makes a woman forget her place." His crooked mouth tugged back in a wicked grin. "But I know ways to make a woman remember her place. Learned a few new tricks, I have."

  Meg realized then that there was no reasoning with the earl. She also knew her life was in danger. Something told her that she would never reach the authorities. Percival was serious when he said he intended to seek retribution on his own.

  That left Meg with no choice but to attempt to escape . . . and now.

  Without taking time to consider her choices, Meg bolted, hoping she would take Percival by surprise. Surely he'd not expect t
he Margaret he had known to try to run.

  She dodged left and he swung at her with his walking stick.

  "Come back here you little bitch!" he shouted, trampling the baby's grave. "How dare you run from me!"

  Meg grabbed her skirts, lifting them up to her knees as she darted across the grassy knoll that led to the road. She could hear Rutledge's footfall behind her.

  "Come back here!" he shouted. "Do you hear me? Don't make me angry, Margaret." She could hear him chasing her down, gaining on her. "You'll be punished all the more severely for making me angry!"

  Meg ran as fast as she could. "Help me! Help!" she screamed. Her lungs burning, she knew she couldn't run fast enough. She felt the cane strike the back of her head and tumbled forward into the sweet summer grass. "Kincaid . . ." she whispered as the world dissolved into darkness.

  "Oh, dear." Rutledge made a clicking sound between his teeth. He stood near the road looking down at Margaret, unconscious. "I told you not to run, and now look what's happened."

  He panted, touching his hand to his breast. The ache ran up his arm and radiated through his chest cavity. "You've winded me." He leaned over, resting against the head of the cane, fighting the dizziness that came over him.

  After a moment, the pain passed once again and he straightened his posture, smoothing his wrinkled waistcoat. "That's better. Now, let's get you more comfortable."

  He tucked his cane under his armpit and grasped her by her hands. "What a silly girl to think you could escape," he chastised, dragging her through the grass to his horse that waited nearby. "And who did you think would help you? Who do you think would care what I did to you?" he finished with a snarl.

  Dropping the cane, he grabbed her around the waist and flung her over his saddle, face down. Convinced she would remain on the horse long enough to make it up the hill, he picked up his cane and the horse's reins and started back up the road toward Rutledge Castle.

  "Who would care?" he repeated. "No one, you stupid little bitch. No one in the world."

  Meg woke slowly, disoriented. . . . Her head pounded and her vision was poor. Why was it so dark? Where was she?