The older Montagues would have been happy to let it go at that, but William said, �The Hanovers are not our true kings. They are coarse, stupid Germans, unfit to sit on a British throne. The Stuarts are our legitimate rulers.�
�William . . . ,� his father said warningly.
Ignoring the caution, William said defiantly, �Scotland has been treated abominably by the Hanovers. Surely no Scot can deny that.�
William's words were treason, and his parents' tense expressions showed they knew it. Wanting to change the subject, Gwynne asked her host, �Have the Montagues always been horse breeders, or are you the first?�
Ignoring her feeble attempt at distraction, William said to Duncan, �To see the prince is to recognize true royalty. The day will come when all of Britain will acknowledge him.�
Uneasily Gwynne saw that this conversation wasn't only about politics, but about her. William wanted to impress her and humiliate Duncan. The fool.
�The Stuarts had their chance,� Duncan said dryly. �If James II had ruled like a sensible man and not converted to Catholicism, he could have kept his throne, but he was a fool, and his heirs have been equally foolish. James Francis probably could have had the throne when Queen Anne died if he had moved quickly and turned Protestant, but he let the opportunity fall through his hands and now the time has passed. Though Charles Edward may be dashing, he hasn't enough support to overthrow the government.�
�Unfortunately, he has enough support to cause many deaths,� Lady Montague said with a frown. �Let us speak no more of this. It's time to go into dinner.�
Standing firm, William spat at Duncan, �Prince Charles has only to set foot in England and Jacobites will rise everywhere to support him, as they are doing in Scotland. How many men will rally to the Hanoverian king once his troops start losing battles?�
�When you are older, perhaps you'll come to realize that being dashing isn't a good trait in a king,� Duncan said with lethal coolness. �Especially not when paired with a belief that royal blood gives him a divine right to do any damn-fool thing he wants. A boring monarch who keeps to his mistresses and spends much of his time on the Continent may not be as exciting, but he's a safer ruler.�
Fury flashed in William's eyes, but before he could offer another retort, his father snapped, �If you speak one more word on the subject of Jacobites, I'll send you to your room, young man! Now let us eat.� He offered his arm to Gwynne.
Gwynne winced inwardly as William's face turned scarlet. He had wanted to impress her, and instead he was being treated as a child. She gave him a swift, sympathetic smile. His expression eased and he inclined his head before spinning on his heel and stalking from the room, his back ramrod straight.
Thinking it would a more relaxed dinner without the young firebrand present, Gwynne accompanied her host into the dining room.
�He's but a boy, Lady Ballister,� Lord Montague said, his expression anxious. �His words aren't to be taken seriously.�
His concern was understandable. William might be young, but he was old enough to be executed for treason, and perhaps bring his whole family to disaster. With a rebellion in Scotland, English authorities wouldn't be inclined to leniency. Gwynne said reassuringly, �It is usual for the young to be romantic about lost causes. There's no reason for us to mention it elsewhere.�
Montague's expression eased. �I knew you for a sensible woman.�
�I make no claim to politics, but like most females, I have no use for war.�
His lordship sighed. �When I was William's age, I thought war a grand and noble enterprise. Fight for the right! Show your courage! Now I know better.�
�Are you afraid he'll run off and join the Young Pretender?� she asked quietly.
His stricken expression was answer enough. She suggested, �Say you want to buy new breeding stock and send him off to India or America or some other distant place where he can have adventures that don't involve civil war.�
An interested light showed in his eyes. As he pulled out her chair, he said, �That's good advice, Lady Ballister. Perhaps I'll do just that. Thank you.� His smile was so warm it was almost alarming, but he moved away to the head of the table without saying more.
Despite the tenseness caused by William's political proclamations, the dinner went well. Besides Gwynne and Duncan and the senior Montagues, there were half a dozen other members of the household, including the oldest son and heir, George, and his wife.
Tired by the long day, Gwynne was glad when Lady Montague rose and led the ladies off so the gentlemen could talk over their port. Gwynne wondered if the men would venture into politics again, or stay with the safer topic of horses.
She chatted with the ladies only as long as was polite before retiring to her bedchamber. After changing into her nightgown and braiding her hair, she pulled open the draperies at the windows and went to bed, wondering how long it would be before Duncan joined her. Ah, well, if she fell asleep he could always wake her. . . .
�
The hand on her shoulder brought Gwynne to sleepy awareness. She smiled, the darkness making her acutely aware that desire hummed in the air, along with a distinct scent of alcohol. �Come to bed, my dear.�
She reached for Duncan, and touched a face that was unfamiliar. Snapping to full wakefulness, she asked, �Who's here?�
�Shhh . . .� The whisper was urgent. �We've come to rescue you.�
�William?� Incredulous, she sat up in bed, clutching the covers to her. The faint light from the window showed the strapping form of her host's youngest son and an even larger young man dressed as a servant. �Is the house on fire?�
�No, no, I'm going to rescue you from that bullying Whig. Come with Jemmie and me, my lady.� He opened the window of a lantern to release more light. After handing the lantern to his servant, he pulled the covers away and tugged Gwynne to her feet. �We must be quick, before we're discovered.�
The floor was cold under her bare feet, but she hardly noticed because of the thunderstruck way the two young men stared at her. In her satin nightgown, she was a sight fit only for the eyes of a husband. Blushing furiously, she grabbed Duncan's banyan from where it was draped over a chair and wrapped it around her.
Once she was safely covered, she said in her best countess voice, �How dare you enter my bedroom! I have no idea what you think you're doing, but you're foxed. Leave my room this instant and I'll pretend this never happened.�
William shook his head. His eyes were bright with some combination of drink and recklessness. �I can't let him have you. You're a brave lass to pretend all is well, but I heard him being rude to you. I saw how you smiled at me, as if you were pleading to be saved.�
Dear heaven, he must have interpreted her smiles of sympathy as interest in his immature self! �You misunderstood everything. I consider myself blessed to have Ballister as my husband, and I need no rescue.� She tugged the robe around her more tightly. �Now go!�
William's face hardened. �A craven Whig who is betraying his own people doesn't deserve you! When the prince has conquered Britain, there will be honors and riches for his supporters, and I will keep you like the queen that you are. Our lives will be a glorious adventure.�
As she tried to edge away, William suddenly caught her in his arms and tried to kiss her. She managed to turn her head quickly enough so that his mouth landed on her cheek, not her lips. Revolted, she broke free but tripped on the trailing hem of the robe. She fell hard, banging her temple on the heavy bedpost.
As she lay dazed on the floor, a thick north country accent exclaimed with horror, �My God, mon, you've killed her!�
Frantic hands turned her over and explored the throbbing side of her head. She could see and hear, but couldn't quite move. �Nay, she's only stunned,� William said with relief. �She'll be all right.�
Swiftly he wrapped her in blankets and carried her out into the dark corridor. �Don't worry, my lady,� he crooned. �I'll take care of you.� <
br />
Immobilized by the blankets and the blow to her head, she couldn't even struggle as the young idiots abducted her. With all the concentration she could muster, she sent a cry for help to her husband, and prayed that she was Guardian enough to reach him.
�
Duncan enjoyed his discussion with Lord Montague and the other men of the household. They were sensible fellows, as alarmed by the prospect of civil war as he was. Perhaps this rebellion would die down quickly, before too many lives were lost.
The port was making another circuit when he felt a sharp tug in his mind. Gwynne? Used to disguising power, he finished what he was saying before analyzing what he'd felt. Was she having a nightmare? Fatigue might have sent her to bed early. Or was she with the other ladies and an argument had broken out?
Thinking it could be nothing serious, he continued with the evening's discussion, but anxiety gnawed at him. Finally, damning himself for an anxious bridegroom, he rose. �Having been married less than a fortnight, I think I shall seek out my bride.�
George Montague, the heir, stood and raised his glass. �Here's to the fairest lady in the North Country!�
�The loveliest woman in Europe!�
�Aphrodite reborn!�
�The most beautiful woman in Christendom!�
Every man present leaped to his feet and raised his glass, booming another contribution to the toast. Duncan watched in amazement. Admittedly he thought Gwynne was the most beautiful woman in the world, but she was his wife. This fervent acclamation by responsible gentlemen, most of whom had attractive wives of their own, was downright unnerving.
After acknowledging the toast, he headed for the drawing room where the ladies were taking tea. He entered and glanced around the room, needing to see her.
�Your wife retired early,� Lady Montague said with twinkling eyes. �No need for you to rush off�she'll be glad for your presence whenever you join her.�
He managed to smile at the pleasantry, but his anxiety was increasing and he resented spending time in small talk. As soon as manners allowed, he withdrew and climbed the stairs three steps at a time. Surely when he'd felt that tug she had just been experiencing a nightmare. . . .
He strode into the bedroom, candle held high�and saw that the bed was empty and a shambles of tangled sheets. The blankets were missing. Instinctively he touched a spot on the bedpost, and knew that Gwynne had struck it forcefully. An image formed in his mind of Gwynne being abducted by that besotted young idiot.
For a moment, anguish and guilt paralyzed him. He had known something was wrong, and by his failure to act, Gwynne had been placed in danger. She was his wife, and he hadn't protected her.
There would be time for guilt later. Now he must concentrate on finding her. He stormed downstairs and burst into the drawing room. �Your damnable son has abducted my wife,� he said harshly to his host. �Where would he take her?�
Everyone stared at him in shock. �That's impossible!� Montague exclaimed. �Your lady must have decided to take a late walk, perhaps to the kitchen or the library.�
�The bedroom has been torn up and the blankets are missing. See for yourself.�
The group surged upstairs after him and saw the mute evidence of the tumbled room. Lady Montague pressed her hand to her mouth, fear in her eyes.
�There must be another explanation,� Lord Montague said as if trying to convince himself. �William is not so rash as to steal another man's wife. Perhaps . . . perhaps she wasn't unwilling. Or perhaps robbers broke in. . . .�
�If your son is innocent, produce him,� Duncan growled. �Once you admit that he has committed this crime, will you help me, or must I go after my wife alone?�
Montague sent his oldest son off while Duncan paced, furious at the time that was being lost. He tried to reach out to Gwynne to assure himself of her safety, but he was too upset to get a clear reading. She was alive, that much he was sure of, and probably not seriously hurt, but beyond that he could not be sure.
After a handful of minutes which felt like hours, George returned to report, �William and Jemmie are both missing, and it looked as if William did some hasty packing. Three horses are gone, including William's.�
Lady Montague pressed her hand to her heart. �That foolish, foolish boy. Please, Lord Ballister . . .� Her voice trailed off miserably.
Her fear helped Duncan master his temper. �I'll try not to kill him, richly though he deserves it. Do you have any idea where he might take her?�
�There are half a dozen bothies up in the hills,� George said. �Since there's little moon and riding would be difficult, he might take her to one and wait until daylight.�
�Show me a map.�
One was provided in Montague's study. As George pointed out the locations of the bothies, Duncan stilled his mind so he could sense where Gwynne might be. There. He stabbed his forefinger down on the map. �He's taking her to this one. I'm sure of it.�
The Montagues stared at him. Inventing an explanation to justify his certainty, Duncan said, �My guess is that he wants to join the rebels. If so, that's along his route. Montague, will you lend me several of your men?�
His host nodded, his face gray. �I'll send a pair to each of the other bothies. George and I will go with you.�
Duncan wondered if they could be trusted to deal with their villainous young relative, and decided that they could, for honor's sake. Though they would also try to protect the boy from Duncan's wrath. �Then we'll be off,� he said grimly. �And if he's harmed a hair on her head��
He cut off the words. As a Guardian, he shouldn't be thinking murderous thoughts. But if William harmed Gwynne, may God have mercy on his foolish soul.
FOURTEEN
G wynne came awake groggily. Male voices speaking in low, urgent tones brought back sharp memories of her abduction, so she kept her eyes closed as she evaluated her situation. The air was cool and smoky, and she lay on a rough surface. Hard earth padded by a folded blanket, she guessed.
Opening her eyes a slit, she saw that she was in a crude hut with stone walls and a dirt floor. A small fire burned in the center of the room. Most of the smoke wafted out through a hole in the roof, but enough stayed to sting the eyes and rasp the lungs.
William and his servant sat on the hard earth on the other side of the fire. They must be sobering up, because Jemmie said urgently, �We've got to take her back, mon, before they know she's gone! Ballister will hunt us down and cut off our balls for this.�
�No!� William looked across the fire to his captive, his voice as stubborn as his stony face. �She's mine! Her husband is a coarse brute who doesn't deserve her. She smiled at me with her soul in her eyes. She wants me as I want her. Once we join the prince and his army, we'll be safe. With luck, Ballister will die in the fighting and I can take her for my lawful wife before the year is out.�
Gwynne wondered how long it would take William to decide that murdering Duncan would be more efficient than hoping for him to become a victim of the war. When she first met the boy, she had thought him rather sweet and earnest and she sensed that he still was, under this strange obsession he had developed for her. How could the brief two smiles she had given him be interpreted as an invitation to elope?
Whatever had come over him, he was now potentially dangerous. If he could convince himself that a friendly smile meant that she desired him, how long until he decided that she was yearning for his embraces? She shuddered at the thought. With Duncan she had discovered the joy of the marriage bed, and the thought of her body being invaded by any other man was loathsome.
She knew beyond doubt that Duncan would come for her, but how long would it take? Not long, she guessed�a powerful mage should be able to locate a missing wife easily. Perhaps if she kept up the pretense she was asleep, he would be here before the situation turned ugly.
Too late. Even as she closed her eyes again, Jemmie said, �I think she's awake.�
<
br /> William stood, his head almost touching the roof, and came around the fire. �How do you feel, my lady? I didn't mean for you to be hurt.�
Gwynne made a swift decision to behave with the hauteur she'd learned in the upper levels of English society. He must be persuaded that she was untouchable.
She pushed herself into a sitting position and wrapped herself in dignity along with Duncan's robe. �I am gravely disappointed,� she said icily. �How dare you abduct me from under your father's roof! You dishonor your family.�
He flushed. �I had no choice. I had to save you from that man.�
�Of course you had a choice! And �that man' is my husband. I need no saving from him.� Her eyes narrowed with anger. �Ballister and I have been joined in the eyes of man and God. It is not your place to put us asunder.�
He looked shaken by her vehemence. �Perhaps it is not, my lady.� His hand fell to the dagger at his side. �But I will not give you up.�
She was acutely aware of how large he was, and how unpredictable his moods were. Would Jemmie try to prevent any violence against her, or would he join in? She didn't want to find out. �Take me back to my husband, now. I have no more interest in your precious prince than I have in you.�
William's expression changed. �Once you meet Prince Charles, you will come over to his side. He has such grandeur, yet such affability. Not like that rude, mean Hanoverian king who sulks in London.� He bent and caught her hands, lifting her to her feet. �You will soon be grateful that I am taking you into a glorious new life!�
She tried unsuccessfully to tug her hands free. �I'm happy with the life I have!�
�Then I shall change your mind.� He gazed into her face longingly. �You are so beautiful. So irresistibly beautiful . . .� His mouth crushed onto hers with hungry demand.
She gagged, struggling against him but unable to retreat since her back was against the wall. Duncan . . . !
The door slammed open and her husband swept into the hut like a thunderstorm, Lord Montague at his back and George Montague a step behind. Duncan's black cloak billowed about him as dramatically as his power filled the room. He was dark and commanding, as splendid as he was terrifying, yet the reassuring glance he gave her was full of tenderness. She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
Crossing the hut in two long strides, he thundered, �Damn you, boy! I should kill you where you stand!�
William snapped his head around while Jemmie prudently scrambled to the farthest corner of the hut. �She's better off as my mistress than your wife, Ballister,� William blustered, but his voice was shaking.
�You're a stupid young fool who deserves to have your liver and lights cooked into haggis,� Duncan growled as he yanked William away from Gwynne. �But for the sake of your parents, I'll spare you.�
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