by Paula Quinn
A year ago he was prepared to do anything to stop the treaty from being enacted. Twice, he’d managed to postpone the Acts of Parliament from being signed. He was so close now, and this time, it could work. But not if he threw it all away because of his heart. She tempted him beyond reason. But how could he bring her to Skye with him and still use her as ransom? Was he willing to give up his only means of getting her uncle to listen to him? Was he willing to give up his fight?
No.
He needed to get his heart back where it belonged. She would understand. She had her own loyalties to stand by and fight for. Her father’s good name was a cause he admired, but he would have rathered it if marrying the chancellor wasn’t part of that cause.
“We need her.”
Edmund nodded at Malcolm, clearing his head. “I know.”
From the corner of his eye he saw Sarah walking up to him. He turned to look at her and wished he hadn’t. Disappointment tugged at her mouth while anger fired her emerald eyes. He didn’t back up when she lifted her hand and slapped him hard across the face. Nor did he deny it when she called him a heartless bastard. She pulled her arm away from Lucan when he would have stopped her from leaving.
Edmund watched her go, most likely to her friend’s side.
With nothing more to say to either of his cousins, he left them, with Gaza at his heels.
He thought about Amelia as he walked Ravenglade’s halls. He could grow old happily with her. And if his years were not to be long ones, waking up to her for a few more of them would be all he asked.
If she weren’t the Protestant niece of his greatest enemy.
He knew enough about kidnapping to know that if he loved her, she was no longer leverage for his side, but for her uncle’s, if the duke found out.
Thank the saints it hadn’t gone that far. He didn’t love her.
He slowed his steps when he came to the entrance of the garden and heard Amelia crying. He didn’t go to her, determined to create distance between them. He leaned against the cool stone entryway and watched her weep into Sarah’s shoulder. Twice, he stilled his feet from moving. But he couldn’t stop his chest from aching with her. Every part of him ached for her. What had become of him, he agonized while her sobs reached his ears. He’d stopped thinking about Scotland and begun thinking about her. All the time. He missed her smiles, her touch. He missed everything about her and he felt lost without her at his side.
God help him, he thought, closing his eyes as the truth dawned on him. He was wrong. He had gone that far.
He’d been sitting so long his arse ached. Och, but what did he care? Soon, he’d have his weight in gold. His clan wouldn’t need Ravenglade. He’d have something built that was even bigger. Buchanan Hall he would call it, and he would be chief over his kin instead of his dead brother’s son, William.
Ennis looked around the private quarters of the Duke of Queensberry and tapped his finger on his knee. He wondered if the duke’s butler repeated the message correctly. The duke’s guest knew the whereabouts of someone who might be missing among them. Ennis mulled it over in his head and frowned. Now that he thought about it, it could easily be misquoted.
Surely if the duke understood it to mean the whereabouts of his niece, he would have rushed in straightaway.
No matter, soon the duke would know and Ennis would be rewarded. He could be patient and wait all night if he had to. He’d been patient at Jane Ogilvy’s, hadn’t he? After that hound from hell had attacked him, he would have perished if not for Jane. She took him and nursed him back to good health. He would remember her when he came into his fortune.
He’d been laid up for so long he worried that the duke’s niece had already been found. If she had, Ennis prayed that the rest of his message would hold some value. Sympathizing with a MacGregor was a crime. He wondered what kissing one would be considered.
The wide doors of the chamber opened and Ennis stood to his feet when the duke entered with a host of other men and a woman behind him. Most of the men carried weapons.
“Remain standing, if you please.” The duke snapped his fingers at Ennis, then sat down behind an enormous table that seemed to swallow him up. His chest barely made it to the table surface.
“Ye claim to have news on my daughter’s whereabouts?” another man, standing off to the side, asked.
“Selkirk!” The duke’s voice crackled with annoyance. He glared at the other man, waiting for the latter to back down. But Selkirk continued to wait for Ennis’s answer.
“Well, did ye make such a claim?”
“Millicent,” the duke growled, shifting his hard gaze on the woman present, “if your husband makes another sound, I will have you both removed.”
Millicent reached out her hand and grasped her husband by the wrist. “Mind your mouth and let him take care of this, John,” she commanded. “I don’t want to be removed and miss what this man has to say. Do you?”
He shook his head and stepped back, into the shadows.
“Now you may speak,” the duke told Ennis. “Tell me everything. Leave nothing out or it will mean your head.”
Ennis rubbed his hand over his throat. This wasn’t going to go the way he’d planned. But mayhap, he could change that.
“The MacGregors have yer niece.”
Selkirk rushed forward but was stopped by a sword blocking his path. Millicent covered her mouth and then swooned.
“Kill this fool for wasting my time.” The duke pointed to Ennis, rose, and moved to leave.
“James!” Millicent called out, stopping him. “What if they do have her?”
“Do you mean like the French had her?” The duke smirked. “You were certain about it, weren’t you, Millicent?”
“In my defense, brother, the note that was left—”
Queensberry held up his palm, quieting her. “We already know that Lord Dearly, Viscount of Essex, and Lord Huntley, distant cousin to the Stuart queen, have taken her.”
“I don’t know who Lord Dearly is, but I know Edmund MacGregor,” Ennis told them, clearing up the argument and hoping to save his life. “Huntley is Malcolm Grant. His kin, the Grants, are not only related to the queen but to the MacGregors.”
“They are outlaws!” Millicent wailed, then wobbled on weak knees. Instantly, two older men from their train of followers stepped forward to aid her. “No, no,” she cried. “It cannot be true!”
“I saw MacGregor with my own eyes,” Ennis continued, “speaking to a lass who said she was the Duke of Queensberry’s niece.”
“They pretended to be—”
“Obviously,” the duke snarled at his brother-in-law. When he returned his attention to Ennis, beads of sweat began to form on Ennis’s brow. “Where is she?”
“I want coin fer what I am to tell ye.”
The duke moved toward him, stopping a hairsbreadth away. He looked Ennis over from foot to crown, and then with an expression of pure disgust, he agreed.
“Very well, tell me where they are and I will repay you richly for the information.”
Ennis smiled, letting relief wash over him. “Ravenglade Castle in Perth.”
The duke smiled, then headed back to his table. He waved his hand at his guards. “Give him two gold and send him on his way.”
Two gold? Was that all Queensberry’s niece was worth? Ennis stopped when two guardsmen escorted him to the door. “There’s more. I was hoping that this extra tidbit might sweeten my pockets a wee bit more.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yer niece,” Ennis said, casting a pitiful glance at the lass’s parents. “She does not appear harmed.”
Her parents visibly relaxed.
“In fact, she seems quite at ease with her captors. At ease enough to kiss one of them.”
Millicent threw her shaking hands to her mouth.
The duke rose out of his seat again. “Which one?”
Now was a good time, Ennis decided, to put Malcolm Grant to a fitting end. A wee fib would ensure Grant’s de
mise, and once he was dead, he or someone from his clan could take over Ravenglade. “Malcolm Grant,” Ennis lied. “But it would be in yer niece’s best interest to retrieve her before she becomes a sympathizer with the outlaws.”
The duke scowled at his sister when she wailed, then he turned to a slightly smaller man stepping out of the shadows.
“Queensberry,” the man said, his voice gravelly, like he needed to clear it. “I don’t want a sympathizer for a wife. Do something about this liar.”
Ennis’s complexion paled. “My lord, I would never—”
“What would you have me do, Lord Chancellor?” the duke sneered.
“Captain Pierce,” the chancellor called out to the guard nearest Ennis. “See that he never speaks poorly of my wife-to-be again.”
“Wait! Please, my lord—” Ennis tried, but to no avail. He was dragged into the outer courtyard and shot once in the heart.
Inside, the duke rubbed his hand over his face. “Well, we know who has her and where she is.”
“Ye cannot sign the act,” John Bell said, anger clearly defined in his voice.
The duke laughed at him. “And what am I to do? Denounce the treaty I’ve spent the last year preparing? Give up everything I’ve been toiling over for years because of a letter promising to kill Amelia if the union takes place?”
“They are MacGregors.” John Bell argued, pleaded. “They will think nothing of killing her. Ye have to do as they say. Please, I will be forever in yer debt.”
The duke was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I’ve already postponed the gathering of both Parliaments. I suppose a few more weeks to go fetch the girl won’t make that big of a difference.”
“Let us not forget that Miss Bell was seen in the arms of a MacGregor sympathizer,” the chancellor added sourly. “I do hope ’tis just a rumor.”
“Whether it is or it isn’t,” the duke said, turning to him, “you will fulfill the promise you made to her and her father to marry her or I will personally see to it that you are removed from office before the union takes place. You do still want to be the Lord High Chancellor of England, do you not, Seafield?”
The chancellor’s expression went from sour to amiable in an instant. “Of course, my lord.” He bowed to all, letting his eyes linger on Millicent. “If you will excuse me.”
Millicent Bell smiled at him and watched him leave, then patted the duke’s hand. “We owe you much, brother. Don’t we, John? Once again he covers for our daughter’s indiscretions. Oh, how could she do this to us? How could she sympathize with outlaws and give herself to them?”
“This is no fault of Amelia’s,” her husband snapped at her. “Stop thinking of yerself fer a bloody moment, woman, will ye? We have to get her back!” He turned to the duke. “We know where she is. When can we leave?”
The duke looked at him the same way he looked at his mad son. “Have you ever fought against Highlanders? History has been made on countless occasions because of the will and determination of these barbaric zealots.”
“What do ye suggest, then?”
“I don’t want to make war with my own countrymen just before I put my name to a treaty that half of Scotland is against. We need a show of force, but just a show. I think once these mountain men see our numbers they will hand Amelia over without a fight.”
“Then let’s do it,” John said.
“We need the army, and that will take a bit of time.”
“Amelia may not have time,” her father argued.
“John may be correct,” Millicent pointed out. “What if she shames us by falling for one of her captors? I met both of these men and they were charming and quite handsome.”
“Amelia isn’t such a fool to throw away a life with the lord chancellor, sister,” the duke said. “She may be the bringer of black clouds, but she knows better than to go against our wishes and plans for her.”
John Bell felt sick to his stomach. He hadn’t slept, and he’d barely eaten since the night she disappeared. His poor gel. He hadn’t known if she was dead or alive. Now that he knew, now that he had hope again, he was eager to save her.
Millicent Bell stepped out into the garden and looked around. When she found who she was looking for, his back to her, she smiled and headed toward him. When she reached him, she slid her palms up over his back. She wished he had more muscle, like her beloved statues, but one couldn’t be too choosy.
“There now, all will be well.”
“It better be.” He turned to face her and she thought how handsome he was, how lucky her ungrateful daughter was.
“All you have to do is continue to prove to John how much Amelia means to you. He’s already given his consent. Don’t lose it, and don’t let him know that my brother is involved in this. Do you understand?”
His smile chilled her blood. “Do you understand?” He pinched her face between his fingers. “If your daughter makes me a fool—”
“Walter, no—”
“I will destroy all of you. Beginning with your brother.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Darach sat with his back pressed into a corner of a stall in the Buchanans’ barn, his legs outstretched before him and crossed at the ankles. His bruises, and there were many—in fact, he hadn’t known until this point in his life that his body could hurt as bad as it did—was healing.
Healing. The thought of it brought images of Luke to him. Was he dead? Had Darach failed him? Please God…
Each passing day of his captivity found him growing stronger. More himself. Soon, he would escape this place and kill everyone who stopped him from helping his cousin and who had caused his pain.
“Ye associate with MacGregors. Ye know that’s a crime, aye? Ye could be hanged fer it. I may just turn ye in before my brother returns. Better to watch ye swing from a noose than to have to sit here keeping an eye on ye.”
Darach slid his gaze to his hostess, Janet Buchanan. He would like to begin with her. Twice now he cursed the shackles that kept him out of reach of her throat. He’d never throttled a woman before, but this wildcat tempted him sorely. “I find it difficult to believe that ye were truly betrothed. Ye’re bonny, but I’ve seen bonnier.”
“I should have hit yer head harder and killed ye, rather than leave the simple task to Kevin and his pathetic friends. The sight of ye repulses me.”
Darach smiled in the shadows. The effort pained him, since his lip was still swollen, sliced in two places, and likely purple. With one eye still swollen shut, he guessed he was repulsive indeed.
“There’s the door, lass. I’d kick ye in the arse on the way oot, but I’m restrained.”
She laughed at him. Darach had to admit the sound of it warmed his blood. “Let me fill ye in, since ye’re so helpless here. One of yer MacGregor friends stole my cousin’s dog and blew off his hand. Tonight, they’ve gone to Ravenglade to get what is theirs. They will likely kill yer lads in their sleep.”
Darach forgot for a moment that he was secured by the ankles and almost sprang to his feet. Ravenglade! He realized almost instantly that his cousins could handle any number of Buchanans who came against them.
“I hope ye bid yer cousin a fittin’ farewell,” he told her, sinking back into the shadows. “Ye likely willna’ be seein’ him again.”
“He’ll return,” she corrected just as confidently. “Mayhap with a head or two that we could hang as decoration.”
“Janet!” At the sound of her brother’s voice, she and Darach both turned toward the barn doors. “Why the hell did ye not tell me what the lads were planning? They’ll bring war on us, ye fool! Think of it. We kill them and then the rest of them come looking for us. We won’t last a se’nnight against them.”
Darach agreed, and as William dragged his sister toward the exit, he cast her an icy smile when she looked over her shoulder at him.
Normally, Grendel’s earsplitting bark was enough to alert Edmund to trouble, but when Gaza joined him, they woke the castle.
Edmun
d was the first out of bed, since sometime during the night both dogs had managed to make their way inside his room.
“What is it?” Amelia asked, terrified, from her door when she saw Edmund in the hall.
Hell, he missed her. He hadn’t spent more than an hour at a time with her since his eye-opening talk with Malcolm. He was miserable.
“I don’t know,” Edmund told her, draping the rest of his plaid around his shoulder. “Stay here. Don’t leave yer room.”
She nodded, watching him bend to fit various sized daggers into his boots, pistols into his belt, and his broad claymore into its sheath.
Lucan, Malcolm, a lass Edmund had never seen before, and Sarah were all exiting their rooms. Edmund pulled the women to him and then pushed them into Amelia’s room.
“Someone’s inside the castle,” Malcolm said, following the sounds of the barking dogs below stairs.
“Ye left the bridge doun?” Lucan asked him in disbelief.
“I dinna’ recall. I was drunk and Elizabeth was eager,” Malcolm told him unapologetically. “Let’s no’ fret aboot how they got here but take care of them now that they are.”
“Luke.” Edmund stopped his limping cousin. “Why don’t ye stay here until—”
Lucan shoved him out of his way and dragged a very long claymore from its sheath. “Ye stay with the women if ye’re going to worry like one.”
Edmund watched Lucan make his way toward the stairs, then followed him down.
Malcolm was correct. Someone was inside the castle. Grendel and Gaza were gone, their incessant barking ceased. Edmund knew Grendel wasn’t injured but on the hunt for his prey.
As was he. As were his brothers.
They didn’t have to wait long to find what they were hunting. Not a moment passed after they separated in the foyer when a man burst through the door to the servants’ quarters with a weeping Henrietta under his arm and a pistol pointed at Malcolm.
