by Ann Stephens
Diantha reached for his hand. He gripped it tightly and pulled her closer. After a moment she let go and hugged her knees with her arms. “His son is still your nephew. You could sponsor the boy’s schooling.” Her voice trembled. “If something happens to Barclay, he may be your only heir, since I can’t seem to conceive.”
Kieran pulled her down on the pallet and stretched out beside her, leaning on an elbow. She echoed his position, facing him. “That bothers you a great deal?”
“One of my few consolations during our engagement was that I would at least be able to have a child of my own to love.” She rested her hand on his hip. “I didn’t think I would come to—” She caught herself before ‘love’ escaped her lips. “To care for you as I have.
“I want to have your child, Kieran.” She couldn’t see his face in the shadows, which gave her the courage to continue. “Not because it’s my duty, but because I’ve thought about being a mother since I was small.” She rolled onto her back. “I wouldn’t be like mine. I’d want my children to feel loved for who they are every single day of their lives.” She spoke the last words vehemently.
He gathered her close. “If we’re blessed with children, I will be thrilled. You would make an excellent mother, I’m sure of it.” He grazed her temple with a kiss.
“The difficulty might lie with the Rossburns. My grandfather only had two children, and so did my father.”
“One of life’s mysteries.” Diantha shivered as Kieran’s mouth possessed hers.
Against her lips, he murmured, “Indeed. And speaking of life’s mysteries, I need you in ways that have nothing to do with getting an heir.”
As her body responded to his husky whisper, she allowed herself a tiny bit of hope. Need wasn’t love, but it wasn’t indifference either. She wrapped her arms around her husband. “Perhaps you should elaborate on your needs.”
They left Cariford after two more days. Kieran had overseen the removal of most of the wreckage by then, and the villagers themselves reached the grim consensus that the sea had washed all the bodies ashore that it would.
They returned a week later for the memorial service honoring all those lost. Iona and Barclay came with them. Kieran’s aunt proved predictably unimpressed with the rapport that Diantha had developed with the survivors.
“It is not necessary to enter into their every feeling.” She declared this after watching Diantha speak with a number of villagers and their children. The older woman stood waiting by the landau which was ready to carry them back to the house.
At tea that afternoon, a tremendous quarrel broke out between Kieran and Barclay.
Kieran wanted to attract fishermen from other villages by offering a share of each vessel’s profits, with the chance to take over ownership of the new boats.
Barclay considered that too complicated. He paced the rug in front of the drawing room fireplace. “Why not just tear down some of the poorer crofts and send the families to the village? You’re the landlord. Act like it for once.”
She and Iona listened to the increasingly acrimonious argument for several minutes, until Barclay flung himself out of the room in a rage.
After he left, Kieran’s aunt had addressed him sharply. “Why must you be so excessively rude to Barclay?” She shot a triumphant glance at Diantha’s slim waist. “He is still your heir, you know.”
Kieran drew himself to his full height. “Then perhaps he should remember that he inherits responsibilities to others, Aunt.”
* * *
Kieran decided to return to the village a few days later so that he could propose his plan to the survivors. The night before he left, he assured Diantha that he would be back by dinner the following evening.
Barclay went with him despite their earlier disagreement, much to her husband’s pleasure. He thanked his cousin repeatedly for lending him his support.
That afternoon, Barclay returned alone with a message from Kieran that he had been delayed and needed to oversee a few more things in Cariford. “I will be more than happy to carry any messages you might have for my cousin.”
Diantha, remembering the lies the soft-spoken man had told about Kieran before, declined to take advantage of his offer.
After hearing nothing from Kieran for three days except vague messages via his cousin, Diantha took matters into her own hands. She wrote her husband a short letter, telling him that she and his mother both missed him, and asking if she had done something to anger him.
Sealing it in an envelope and writing his name on it, she left her room to go downstairs in search of a messenger. She did not trust Barclay to deliver it to his cousin. Perhaps Archie or Billy Green would oblige her. Not wanting to be spotted by either Iona or Barclay, she walked down a narrow hall just beyond the main staircase. It led to the kitchen and stable yard doors, and would hide her from her husband’s relatives.
Or so she thought. When she noticed the estate office door sat slightly ajar, she started to tiptoe past. Mr. Johnstone, the bailiff, might not have any reason to comment on her presence in this part of the house to Barclay, but she did not want to take any chances.
“I dinna want to murder the man.” She did not recognize the voice, but the words stopped her in her tracks.
“Odd that you didn’t mention your moral objections when I offered to rescue you from the hangman’s noose.” Diantha pressed a palm against her mouth for fear she would scream, or gasp. That soft contemptuous voice belonged to Barclay.
Hardly daring to breathe, she strained to hear more.
“ ‘Tis no’ murder to rid yourself of a cheatin’ wife. But to slide a dirk into a man what’s always spoke polite to me is. I want more money for it. You’ll have enough after you kill his lordship!”
Something scraped against the floor. She guessed it was a chair, for footsteps sounded inside the room. Diantha gathered her skirts to run.
A long sigh sounded. “I should have known better than to set a nincompoop like you to guard him, even for a few days.” Barclay’s voice became reflective. “The thing is, in order to get the money, I’ll have to get rid of my cousin’s wife as well, because she’ll inherit before I do.”
He paused. “What are you willing to do for more cash?”
Diantha did not wait to hear more. Terrified, she inched back in the direction she had come, afraid a heavy breath or a rustle of her skirts would cause Barclay and his henchman to look out of the office.
She had to save Kieran, but had no idea how to do so by herself. If she simply reported the conversation she had overheard to the local authorities, Barclay could charm his way out of an arrest.
She needed advice from someone who knew Barclay and Duncarie, someone loyal to Kieran. Hoping she did not look like someone scared out of her wits, she made her way to the entry hall and out the front door. Going around the side of the house, she headed straight for the stables.
As she hoped, she found Archie Green in the stable yard. Drawing him out to a paddock on the pretext of wanting to discuss Dancer, she repeated in a low voice the conversation she had overheard between Barclay and his henchman. They stood by the fence, careful to watch for anyone who might linger and overhear them.
The ghillie nodded, eyes seemingly focused on a mare frolicking with her colt. “I think you should leave the house before he can do you any harm, my lady.”
Her heart leaped at the thought of getting away from Barclay. She frowned as she considered the idea closely, though. “Where can I go where he won’t find me? Ulladale is small; he’ll find me there in no time. And what about his lordship’s mother? I can’t just desert her.”
Archie’s massive eyebrows furrowed as he considered her points. “I’m no’ sure Barclay thinks of her as a threat. And once I moot word of this into a few trusted ears, we’ll find his lordship afore that yellow git knows what we’re about.”
He straightened. “Hie yourself to my cottage. The wife and I can keep you there for a few days while I have a look round. But you’ll have to walk
. Folks will notice you on horseback.”
Pushing away from the fence, he tugged a forelock as though she’d just given an order. “You’d better haste.”
He was right. She needed a walking dress, not the silk gown she wore right now.
She half-expected Barclay or his manservant to pounce on her when she returned to the house. However, escaping proved to be only a matter of asking Florette to assist her in changing into a serge walking suit and sturdy shoes. Disclosing her plans to the maid, Diantha urged her to find a safe place to hide from the two men as well.
The older woman nodded as she shook her head over the grass-stained hem of the silk gown. “I think MacAdam will help me.”
Despite the seriousness of her situation, Diantha raised an eyebrow at her servant. “Oh?”
Florette looked up innocently. “He speaks French very well, milady.” Only the tiniest of smirks ruined her poise.
Diantha slipped out a side door without the least trouble and set out across the valley.
Tea time found her sitting down to bread and butter across from Lily Green, a short bustling woman who accepted Lady Rossburn’s appearance at her front door without turning a hair.
Their son’s wife Nan joined them, on Lily’s recommendation. A sturdy fair-haired young woman, Nan’s steady nature fit in well with her in-laws. She ruled her brood of small Greens with affectionate despotism, from Wee Archie, a nine-year-old version of his grandfather, down to ten-month-old Baby Andrew.
When Archie and his son arrived after dinner, they brought no news of Kieran, but assured Diantha that eyes and ears in the house and on the estate were searching for him.
Archie chuckled. “The household had a bit of fuss when your ladyship didna appear for dinner. That Frenchie of yours nearly got that cailleach Iona to send out search parties before Barclay could stop her. The man looked flat panicked, I tell you.”
She took what comfort she could from the news. But when she crawled into the bed Lily devised under the eaves of the cottage, she prayed that Kieran was still alive, and would be found before Barclay could hurt him.
Chapter 16
The next morning dragged by as she tried to help Lily with the unfamiliar tasks of housekeeping. The small woman demonstrated great patience at Diantha’s clumsy efforts, although she chose to prepare the meals without assistance.
Lily did permit her to help with the washing up, a procedure which caused Diantha to make a mental note to increase wages for the scullery maids.
They had just put away the clean dishes after the midday meal when Nan rushed into the cottage, holding her baby. “Master Barclay is coming with that bully boy of his.” Although pale, Nan spoke calmly. “I’ll collect the bairns.” She hurried out again, calling her children.
Diantha looked round the cottage. The only door faced down the road. If she left that way, he would see her.
“Quickly, your ladyship, climb into the best bed.” Lily pulled the curtains to the master bed aside. “You can slip out the side window. If you stay low, the trellis will hide you all the way to the back gate.”
Wee Archie entered, holding his youngest sister by the hand.
“I’ll take care of Mairi.” Lily picked up the toddler and a clean washcloth. “Lad, go find your grandpa and tell him Mr. Barclay is here. Dinna say anything else, ye ken? Go out the window and through the back.”
The boy nodded as calmly as if his grandmother had ordered him to fetch a pail of water.
“How will he know where to find Archie?” Diantha glanced out the window, fearing to see her cousin by marriage standing in the front garden.
Lily chuckled and pulled out a fresh pinafore for the girl. “Those two could find each other in the middle of darkest Africa.” She shooed the boy on his way. “And mind you don’t get dirty footprints on my clean bed!”
The rest of Nan’s daughters trooped in from the garden. Diantha helped change pinafores and wash off grubby hands and faces, mentally shaking her head at the irony. But both women assured her it would be thought odd if they did not clean the children up.
“And that’s what we want to avoid. Now get in there, my lady!” Feeling both frightened and foolish, Diantha found herself stepping over the bed, mindful of Lily’s admonition about footprints.
Nan whispered last minute instructions to her girls. “So help me, if any of you say one word to Mr. Barclay except ‘Good day’ or ‘I don’t know, sir,’ I’m takin’ my hairbrush to the lot of ye.”
Lily closed the curtains just as the sound of hoofbeats reached them through the open front door. Diantha barely had time to slip out the open window and duck down before Barclay’s smooth voice floated over the hedge.
“Good morning! What a bevy of beautiful girls!” A few childish giggles greeted his sally. She pressed her lips together. Naturally he would first attempt to coax them into giving him the information he wanted.
After he exchanged the usual pleasantries with the Greens, he finally explained the reason for his visit.
“I fear that there may have been a misunderstanding a few days ago between Lord and Lady Rossburn.” He coughed delicately, thus informing his listeners that he referred to an argument of massive proportions. “It left Lady Rossburn, especially, highly distraught. She told her maid she was going to take a stroll to clear her head.” A lugubrious sigh followed that sounded overexaggerated even from Diantha’s position behind the hedge. “She has not come back.”
Appropriate exclamations of shock and pity broke out from the Green ladies. He accepted their sympathy graciously before continuing.
“As I’m sure you understand, the dowager baroness is beside herself with worry. She has asked me to search the estate for her.”
“Och, the poor distracted wee thing.” Lily should have gone on the stage, Diantha reflected. She could almost see the old woman dabbing at her eyes with her apron. “We havnae seen her, Mr. Upton, but we’ll send a message to you right quick if we do.”
“That is a shame.” His voice took on a mournful quality. “Knowing that she places such trust in your husband, I had hoped she might have sought shelter with you. I’m sure you won’t mind if we take a look around your cottage, Mrs. Green.”
Silence fell.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Lily’s quiet words hissed through the air like cold silk.
“This way I shall be able to assure the dowager baroness that I inspected each cottage. I only want to give her what little ease I’m able to.” His voice hardened. “I’m sure you understand.”
His fingers snapped before the crofter answered. “MacLeish!”
“Sir.” The door to the cottage creaked and Diantha heard heavy steps on the wooden floor. Stifling a gasp, she realized that if he looked out the window, he would see her. The rings of the bed curtains clinked softly as he pushed them aside.
Not daring to breathe, she held herself immobile.
MacLeish must have lacked imagination, for he did not stick his head out the window. She heard him moving about inside, but eventually he left the cottage to report to his master.
“She’s not in there, sir.”
“Ah.” Barclay turned his attention back to the Greens. “You really do have a lovely family, Nan.”
He must have given some kind of signal, for the next moment, the woman screamed.
“Mairi! Give me back my baby!”
The crack of flesh hitting flesh sounded as Diantha inched closer to the hedge and risked a peek through a small hole in the foliage. She crouched too low to see everything, but she could see Barclay mounted on his horse. He held Archie’s two-year-old granddaughter securely on his lap with one arm. The opposite hand held a pistol at the child’s head.
Nan lay at the feet of the bruiser she had heard Barclay speaking to in the estate office. A thin stream of blood trickled from her cut lip, while Baby Andrew screamed in the crook of her arm.
The other girls huddled around Lily, who gathered them protectively in her arms.
&n
bsp; “Silence that infant!” Barclay’s irritated order cut through the din. Nan pressed Andrew to her shoulder, trying to soothe him between her own quiet sobs.
Lily tried to reason with him. “Master Barclay, you can’t really mean to hurt the wee bairn.”
Lily’s plea fell on deaf ears. “Please listen carefully. I do not for one minute believe you know nothing about Lady Rossburn’s whereabouts.” He glared at everyone impartially. “Either I leave here with her or with the child.”
“Put her down first.” Diantha stood up, praying that Barclay had enough sanity left not to harm the child anyway. He would kill her, but she could not risk a child’s life.
She wilted with relief when the aristocrat put the gun back into its saddle holster and signaled Lily to fetch the toddler from his arms. The old woman did, careful to avoid contact with his person. Ignoring her, he eyed Diantha with a hint of admiration.
“I could have sworn you had no way out of that cottage. I know MacLeish isn’t bright, but this is ridiculous.” His servant stirred but said nothing. “If I recall correctly, there is a back gate that I cannot see at all from here. Why didn’t you escape while you had the chance?”
“If you truly could not have found me, would you have threatened to kill that child?”
“Of course.” A malicious smile curled his lips. “It smoked you right out, didn’t it.”
At Nan’s renewed sobs, a look of disgust crossed his face. “Stop that wailing, you wretched female. I would have done you a favor by removing a mouth for you to feed.” He looked pointedly at Diantha. “I remind you that I still have a loaded gun and several targets.”
“I’m coming, don’t hurt any of them.” She hurried around to the gate and stepped into the front garden.
“MacLeish, bind her hands.” None too gently, the man tied her hands in front of her with strips of braided leather. She flinched as they bit into her flesh. The man’s sour odor assailed her nostrils as he lifted her into Barclay’s waiting arms.
