Molly in the Middle

by Stobie Piel

  Miren glanced up from her soup. "It is Scottish." Maybe Irene needed reminding. "We're in Scotland."

  Irene's face tensed, her fingers curled like spiny claws. She didn't rebuke Miren for impertinence, but her dark gaze was more than enough terrorism. "I find that things Scottish have charm, of course. Her Majesty often espouses the virtues of Scotland. I do find it distressing that Englishmen take on Scottish habits."

  Brent set aside his spoon. "Scottish habits, Mother?"

  "The wearing of plaid, when affiliated with the loyalist clans such as the Stewart, is, of course, perfectly acceptable. Other pursuits, such as engaging in these 'Highland Games' is, I think, questionable."

  Miren noticed that Brent appeared downhearted at hismother's proclamation. "You didn't mention that when the queen invited us all to attend," Miren said.

  Irene's fingers twitched. Her lip twitched, too. "Attendance, dear Miren, is one thing. It's expected that the upper classes view sport. Taking part removes one to the level of competitor, which should remain beneath us."

  "It's not just sport. There's dancing, piping. In fact, the most prestigious victory is that of solo piper. I wish I knew who was playing the bagpipe last night. He'd win, for certain."

  Irene grimaced. "I seem to remember hearing a shrill whining just before dawn. I thought I was dreaming. We must find the offender and see that he respect silence. Brent, did you hear this racket?"

  "I heard nothing, Mother. But I will see that the matter is resolved. The bagpipe is indeed a distraction."

  "Good. See that it is done."

  The footmen arrived to clear the table for the second course, which Miren awaited eagerly. Nathan caught her hopeful expression and grinned. "You certainly appreciate food, my precious beloved."

  Miren cast him a reproachful glance, but the footmen delivered a fine sampling of plover's eggs, then renewed the wine. "Life is for living, Nathaniel, not for eating delicately."

  Brent eyed her doubtfully, but a forced smile appeared on his lips. "I quite agree, Miss Lindsay. As a matter of fact, I'm headed off tonight to the Highlands to partake in pheasant hunting."

  Irene turned to her son. "Tonight?"

  "Couldn't be helped, Mother. Have to get an early start on the birds, don't I?" He chuckled, but the effort seemed forced.

  "Your hunting companions are, of course, of a suitable society?"

  Brent sampled the plover's eggs. "A marquess, a duke's son, and their entourage, Mother. We'll have a time of it."

  Miren noticed that he gave no names, but the titles seemed sufficient to placate Lady MacCallum. He was probably heading into Glasgow to visit a brothel, just as Nathan said. Miren shook her head, and beaded in on the plover's eggs.

  Dinner progressed without major revelations. Miren felt a little disappointed that she hadn't uncovered something significant, thus proving her worth to Nathan. As they entered the foyer, a German clock rang out ten o'clock, and Miren yawned. Nathan stood close beside her, looking impatient.

  Lady MacCallum seized Muffin and went to her room without comment. Brent stood awhile in the foyer, looking hopeful. Miren sensed he wanted to engage in conversation, but wasn't sure how. "Well, good night, all. Miren, your company was a delight. Pleased you could be here."

  "Good night, Brent." She wanted to say more. He looked so lost. She didn't know why, or how he could be helped, so she smiled gently. He nodded, bowed, and headed for the stairs.

  "Odd duck, he is." Simon clucked his tongue. "Never will understand an Englishman." Simon eased between Miren and Nathan and took her arm. ''I'll head you on back to your cottage, lass. Don't want nothing creepy or slimed-up to come after you."

  Nathan darkened, stepped in front of Simon, and took her other arm. "I will attend my fiancée, if you don't mind."

  Miren looked from one to the other. She'd become the new source of their conflict, and it wasn't a position she enjoyed. Simon had begun to treat her like a daughter, and his protectiveness rose accordingly. She liked the old Scotsman. Maybe because she missed her father. Or because it felt good to matter to someone.

  Miren eased toward the door. "I'll walk myself home, thank you both."

  Nathan's lip curled into indignation. Simon took it as avictory and smiled. "Be watching you from the window, lass."

  "Thank you."

  Miren met Nathan's eyes and allowed a small, suggestive smile. "And you, my dearest beloved, will infect my dreams"she opened the door and glanced back over her shoulder"just as you did last night."

  It was bold. Brazen. And the effect was admirable. He gulped, his dark eyes flamed. His frown curved upward and he nodded once. Miren's heart skipped a beat, then sped forward with glee. He would come to her tonight. She wasn't sure when she'd made the decision. Perhaps just after the footmen removed the turtle soup, when her knee touched his leg by mistake, and he smiled.

  Or when he teased her about requesting a second chocolate cream for dessert. She'd lost her purpose and her attention. She thought of his eyes, dark with passion as he kissed her. She remembered his touch, and her nerves tingled.

  Nathan kissed her cheek. "Await me." His whisper sent fierce currents through her body. She nodded, though she knew her cheeks turned pink. Simon's eyes narrowed to slits of suspicion as she headed out the door.

  "Good night, Simon. Nathan."

  "Sweet dreams, my precious darling."

  "Sleep, lass. And lock that door."

  Chapter Ten

  Something is wrong. I feel it, but the young mistress seems cheerful, puttering around our cottage. I sense a threat, but whatever it is doesn't disturb Flip.

  So it can't be a threat to the flock, such as a wolf which would prey on sheep. Flip would notice that, and guard them. But what I feelit is like a wolf. A human wolf.

  Nathan waited until midnight. Curse the Scottish spring! Gray light delayed his departure despite the rain. Nathan looked out his window. It was still raining, and raining hard. But it was a walk worth taking.

  She had invited him. Which meant she had come to him, as he asked. She knew what she wanted, and he would provide it. And more. His erection hadn't subsided since Miren's bold invitation. He paced back and forth in his room, past the large, four-poster bed, past his man-high cabinet.

  He found himself wondering what to wear. She liked his white shirt. He changed his trousers in favor of a tighter cut,

  black. Well suited to piracy. He fished around in his personal case and found something else to please her. A silver hoop earring. Small enough not to be noticed, but pirate-like enough to engage a young woman's imagination.

  He opened another button on his shirt and aimed for the door. He walked quietly, more to avoid waking Simon than disturbing Lady MacCallum or her son. The old Scotsman had turned protective, glowering whenever Nathan spoke to Miren. If Simon knew what Nathan intended for this night, Nathan felt sure he'd never make it to the cottage alive.

  He escaped the house unnoticed, and was greeted with torrential rain. It wasn't cold or windy, a weak comfort as he slogged down the road to the cottage.

  The sheep startled in the pasture, calling out in alarm. Nathan wondered what disturbed them, but with sheep it could be anything. Flip barked, and Nathan hesitated. Something was wrong. The sheep settled down, and Flip quieted.

  Nathan walked on, but his disquiet grew. Movement caught his eye, near the pasture gate. He stopped, but saw nothing. It could have been a sheep, or Flip checking their welfare. Maybe Earnest had met Blossom and was making a break toward freedom.

  Nathan smiled to himself. He was beginning to think like Miren. The sheep took on personalities other than wool and mutton. He was beginning to find their lives interesting. "Which shows how low I've sunk."

  Maybe they'd had personalities all along, and it took Miren to show them to him. Nathan's heart warmed with affection, when he had expected lust. He was driven by desire, after all, to satisfy her, and himself. Simon was right about him. He lived for himself, and took what he wante
d. Tonight, he wanted Miren.

  Miren lay in her bed, drumming her fingers on her chest. She'd washed her hair and brushed it two hundred times. She'd gone outside in the rain to locate rose petals, thencrushed them on her wrist and throat. She'd picked wet bluebells to decorate her tin cup.

  And Nathan still hadn't come. She felt sure he'd understood her veiled message. She wanted to see him tonight. She'd invited him to share her bed, and her body. She would deny him nothing.

  And he was late. The sheep had been restless, so she couldn't tell if their motion meant Nathan was in the pasture. Flip barked a few times, and her heart sped with excitement, but Nathan hadn't come.

  She'd been sure that someone passed by the back of the cottage, through the conifers, but no one came to her door. Miren got up again and paced. She looked out her window. True, it was raining hard, but that wouldn't keep him away.

  Miren sat on her bed again. She'd spent the last hour positioning herself around the cottage, trying to decide where she should be sitting when he entered. Then she remembered he would probably knock, and she'd be at the door. In which case she would have her tartan blanket wrapped casually over her shoulders, with just enough of her chemise showing . . .

  "Where is he?"

  Molly seemed restless, too. She didn't stay on the bed, but moved around the cottage. She lay down, then got up, then went to the door. She whined and scratched. "You've already done your business, Molly."

  Molly scratched with more urgency. Her whine elevated to an impatient bark. Miren sighed and opened the door. Molly barked and raced into the night. Miren heard her growling.

  A cold, fearful sensation drenched Miren's heart. She stepped outside and looked around. "Molly . . ."

  Someone grabbed her from behind. A cold hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. Miren twisted and fought, but her attacker wrenched her neck backwards.

  "Don't fight me." His voice came muffled, shaking with aggression as he flashed a long, thin knife. "I'll use it if I have to. . . . Move!" He hauled her farther from the door, toward the road. he shoved her in front of him, grasping her hair to keep her still.

  Miren refused to surrender. She went limp, but he didn't stop. He dragged her forward, though it slowed his progress. She tried to see his face, but it was covered with a scarf.

  Molly growled and tore at his trousers. Flip barked and bit at the man's front feet. Herding. Miren's eyes flooded with tears. The dogs were trying to help her, but her attacker wore high boots, and their bites couldn't reach his skin.

  They reached the pasture gate, and he yanked Miren's head back, pinning her against his shoulder. He fumbled with the latch, then shoved the gate open. A horse stood on the other side of the fence, saddled and ready. Her attacker wrapped a rope around her neck, then pushed her toward the horse.

  "We're going for a ride, vixen." His words were slurred, as if on purpose. As if he didn't want her to recognize his voice.

  "Who are you?"

  "An old friend." He chuckled, then started to life her toward the saddle. Miren relaxed her body as if in compliance. He lifted her off the ground, and she kicked. He grunted and stumbled back. She jumped aside, but he still held the rope around her neck.

  He jerked her toward him, and Miren fell to her knees. The rope tightened as he stepped toward her, a menacing black shadow drenched in rain, illuminated by shrouded moonlight.

  I will die rather than go.

  Nathan sprang from the shadows of the stone wall, knocking her assailant aside. The rope tugged and snapped as he dropped it, and Miren scrambled away. The man didn't flee. He rolled, then sprang to his feet.

  "Nathan! He has a knife!"

  The knife flashed as her attacker leapt toward Nathan. Nathan twisted aside, but Miren heard his sharp gasp of pain. The rain fell in sheets, obscuring her vision, veiling the twomen as they fought. Nathan had the man's wrist, they grappled for the knife.

  The attacker twisted the knife, aiming at Nathan's face. Miren fumbled in the dark road for a rock. If she could hit the right man . . . She found a jagged stone, seized it, and aimed toward the attacker's head.

  Nathan pulled back suddenly, yanked the man's arm down and onto his knee. The knife sprang loose, but the man jerked aside. Nathan leapt after him, but the man vaulted onto the horse's back and wheeled it violently aside. The horse jumped forward with an angry grunt, then galloped into the night.

  Molly and Flip barked wildly, charging after the fleeing animal, but they were no match for its speed. Both stopped, barking in unison. Just as he disappeared from vision, Miren's assailant turned his horse from the road. It jumped the hedge and headed for the pasture.

  "Why would he leave the road?"

  Nathan took her into his arms. "Miren, are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

  "No. He threatened me, but he wanted to take me from here, not kill me."

  Nathan eased her head to his chest and stroked her hair. "You're safe now. Do you know who it was?"

  Miren shook so violently that her teeth chattered. Until now, she'd been stunned by the attack, too stunned to surrender to fear. "He said he was an 'old friend,' but I didn't recognize his voice. It must have been muffled by his scarf."

  "We'll go back to the cottage and talk. I don't think he'll be back tonight, but I'm not leaving you alone."

  They returned to the cottage with the dogs, where Flip remained outside like a small guard. Molly stuck by Miren's feet, whining and trembling. "I'm all right, Molly. You were a very good dog."

  Miren's hands shook as she turned up the lamplight. "I thought it was you . . ."

  "I was on my way. Too late."

  "Not too late, Nathan." Miren turned around and saw blood drenching Nathan's white shirt. "You're hurt!"

  "It's nothing. His knife caught my arm, that's all."

  Miren seized her medical kit and extracted bandages. "Sit."

  Nathan laughed, but he sounded weak. "You're certainly prepared."

  Tears stung her eyes as she withdrew her shears. "I had to fix Molly from Muffin's bite, and then Blossom. Nathan . . ."

  "I'm all right."

  She forced control over her shaking nerves and cut his sleeve open. Blood soaked down his arm. "We must find a doctor at once."

  "It's not as bad as it looks."

  "You are so stubborn!" Her nerves stretched to their limits. "I'm sorry. Hold still and I'll see for myself how deep it is."

  Nathan complied. He didn't wince as she carefully cleansed the wound, but he looked pale. "You've lost a lot of blood."

  "I've got plenty."

  Miren set her jaw hard as her cleaning uncovered his wound. "It isn't deep, perhaps, but it's long."

  "It will heal."

  Miren padded the long cut, then bandaged his arm thoroughly. "There. That should stop the bleeding, and protect you while you recuperate."

  Nathan lifted his arm. "It might as well be in a cast. Half these wraps would have been enough."

  Miren elevated her chin. "You complain too much."

  He reached to touch her cheek. Their eyes met, and Miren's tears fell to his hand. "You're the one I'm worried about. Miren, this is my fault. I had no idea he'd go after you."

  "What are you talking about? Do you know who it was?"

  "I didn't see him, but I could wager a guess."

  "You think it was Brent Edgington, don't you? Becausehe left the manor for 'hunting.' I suppose you think that's not where he went at all. That he lurked here and waited to come after me. Why?"

  "I don't know. But his voicewas it Scottish or English?"

  "I'm not sure. It happened so fast, and I was so frightened. Molly and Flip were barking, it was raining. I'm not sure." Miren strained to remember, to hear the echo of her attacker's muffled voice. "I think . . . I think it was English. But it sounded muffled. False, as if he disguised his voice on purpose."

  "Which makes sense if he is indeed 'an old friend.'"

  "Why would he tell me that if it was Brent?"


  Nathan shrugged. "He expected to get away with it, Miren."

  "He seemed . . . amused. Arrogant. That doesn't sound like Brent, somehow. Also, why would he say 'old' friend? I haven't known Brent long. I suppose his choice of words isn't important."

  "It might be, though I don't see its significance yet. What matters is that he went after you. Miren, I should have known. I should never have placed you in this kind of danger."

  Miren touched Nathan's hair. "You couldn't have known. I will be careful. I shall purchase a revolver and keep it loaded."

  "That's not good enough. I'll arrange passage on a ship to America at once."

  Miren thumped down into her seat. "I don't want to leave . . ." youMiren stopped herself and bit her lip hard"Scotland. I'm not ready. My sheep aren't ready. I haven't contacted Uncle Robert."

  Nathan held her gaze evenly. "You don't want to leave me."

  Miren looked at her hands. "You have nothing to do with it."

  He touched her chin and forced her to face him. Miren averted her gaze, but he waited until she glanced at him. "Acasual affair isn't worth your life, Miren. And that's all I've offered you. I was thinking of myself, my needs, but I won't have your blood on my hands."

  He sounded cold, distant. Miren's shaken nerves gave way to a low ache deep within. He reminded her of reality, because she'd drifted so far on her own. She'd allowed herself to dream, and before she realized it, she was imagining a life at his side. When all he wanted was a temporary, engaging diversion.

  "I see." Miren eyed his blood-stained shirt. "Yet I have your blood on my own hands, it seems. You were injured rescuing me."

  "And if I'd been a minute later, you would be gone!" His voice came harsh, angry. Miren sat back, contemplating his dark mood.

  "I'm not ready to leave, and it has nothing to do with you. I haven't earned enough money to go to America."

  "I'll pay your expenses."

  Miren braced. "You will not! Charity is out of the question. I intend to earn money from my sheep."

  Nathan threw up his hands, winced, then banged his good arm onto her table. "When? Next spring? Perhaps two years from now? Earnest has barely met Blossom, woman. And if I'm any judge, it may take a good long while before he dares approach her."