by Meara Platt
“What are you talking about? Get away from me!”
But the man now had his hands on her shoulders, holding her and shaking her as he shouted at her. “You took them from the Bodleian Library.”
“The curator gave them to me. They’re mine!”
“As your husband, they’ll belong to me.”
Jenny was breathing hard and sobbing. She tried to speak, but little of it made sense. Not that Cheyne cared. The man froze when he saw Cheyne suddenly looming over them. It was all the time he needed to reach out and lift Jenny into his arms. He felt the rise and fall of her chest with her every frantic breath. “Lyon! Thank heaven.”
“I have ye, lass.” He gave her a quick hug to reassure her, and then set her down safely behind him on the flat outcropping. “Don’t move, Jenny. Hold on to the ground if yer head’s spinning.”
His head was also in a mild spin from that hard climb. It had been easier when he was a spry, skinny lad. Holding Jenny in his arms, however briefly, had affected him as well. He tried to ignore the burn flowing through his veins as he started after the stranger who was already backing away.
“Who are you?” the stranger had the audacity to demand even as he continued to scramble down the cliff trail. “Don’t come any closer!” His eyes revealed his frustration and fear. Good. Cheyne wanted this snake to be afraid of him. “You’re making a big mistake. Stay out of our business. This is between me and my wife.”
Cheyne closed his hands into fists. Blessed saints! Did this idjit think he could fool any of them into believing he had a claim on Jenny?
“I’m the Duke of Mar,” he said with quiet menace. “Ye’re trespassing on my land. The more important question is, who are you?”
Cheyne was ready to beat the truth out of him, if necessary. He knew this worthless Englishman would not dare take him on, for he was bigger and far stronger than this haughty prig.
Now realizing he could not brazen his way out, the snake held out his hands in a sign of truce. “I have no quarrel with you, Your Grace. I only want the girl back.”
“Who are ye? What’s yer business with our Jenny? We know she is no’ yer wife.”
The man still had his hands out in a supplicating manner that rankled Cheyne. “Forgive my embellishment,” he said. “But she will be soon. She is my betrothed.”
Jenny gasped behind him. “I never was and never will be!”
“You will! Your uncle has accepted my suit. The betrothal contract is signed.”
Cheyne wanted to end the chatter and simply toss the man off the cliff.
Oh, hell. Why wait? No one would blame him and he’d be done with this annoying Englishman.
He growled at the man.
The coward scrambled further down the trail, stumbling onto his knees. “I’m Lord Finster. A respected member of the ton. Harm me and you shall face the wrath of our Prince Regent. He and I are close friends.”
“Friend, are ye? Then I’ll send him yer bollocks in a gold box tied with a fancy ribbon.” Cheyne took another step forward. “Ye’re in Scotland now. Sassenach rules dinna apply here. Yer damn betrothal contracts mean nothing here. And dinna think to hide behind the royal family. Ye’re a speck. A nothing. A damn coward attempting to abduct another man’s wife.”
Finster’s eyes widened in obvious alarm. “Is she yours? Has she scammed you into marrying her? The lying, deceitful–”
Cheyne raised him up by the throat. “What was that ye were about to say?”
Of course, the man could not speak while Cheyne was choking him. He would release him once his face turned blue, but it was only a crimson red at the moment. He had another minute perhaps.
“I’ll take the knave into town and question him,” Lucas said, placing a hand lightly on Cheyne’s arm as he reached them. He knew better than to attempt to get between him and this man. “Matthew is chasing down his accomplice. Ye’d better let go of the fellow’s neck before ye snap it.”
“He insulted our Jenny.” Damn. He’d said it again. Our Jenny.
“I know, and he’ll pay for it. Ye dinna have to kill him.”
Cheyne snorted. This was Lucas’s way, always sensible and calm. Mouse is what he used to call him. As for himself, he liked to think he was sensible and always calm. But Jenny had him twisted in knots.
The notion that someone might hurt her had him in a blind rage.
“Och, Lucas. Ye’re a pain in the arse.” Sighing, he released the man and watched him fall to the ground, gasping for air. “Take this miserable offal back to the castle. His companions as well. I’ll question them there. The villagers have seen more than enough of us for one day.”
He turned to Jenny who was trembling like a leaf and clutching fistfuls of grass in her hands as though they were anchors. “Lass, I’ll help ye down the cliff trail whenever ye’re ready. We’ll take as long as ye need.”
She managed a nod, but refused to look up at him.
After making certain his brothers had the culprits in hand, he returned his attention to Jenny. Some of the townspeople had rushed forward to help as well, so his brothers had more than enough assistance should it be required. He quietly shooed away the few who approached him. “I’ll get her down. Thank ye for yer offers of aid. She’ll do better if there’s no fuss around her.”
“Aye, Yer Grace.”
Cheyne watched them make their way down the cliff trail before turning to Jenny. “Let me know when ye’re ready, lass.”
“Lyon, I owe you an apology.” Her voice was thin and shaky. When she glanced up at him, her eyes were filled with anguish. Her eyes. Those big, green moons. “I’ve lied to you.”
He felt a punch to his heart.
He’d suspected it all along, but had not wanted to believe it. “Is that knave yer husband?”
“No! I’m not married. I have never been married.”
Her words resounded like a loudly clanging bell between his ears. “No’ married?” Had his brother got her in the family way and then not married her? He’d suspected as much. Still, what was John’s letter about then? All that nonsense about being in love and taking the lass to the marriage bed pure?
Was his brother ever coming back for Jenny and the bairn? Or had he taken his two mistakes and conveniently packed them off to Cheyne to permanently make them his problem? “Lass, say no more. I’ll take ye home and we’ll sort it all out there.”
She’d lied to him.
He’d learn the truth, but not now. Jenny looked so miserable, he dared not deal her another blow.
He took her hands in his and carefully eased her to her feet. “Take a deep breath.”
She took several.
“Can ye open yer eyes?” She’d closed them as she rose, no doubt to ease her dizziness. “I still have hold of yer hands.” He ran his thumbs along them in slow, soothing swirls.
She took another ragged breath and opened them.
Sad, beautiful eyes.
He led her down, talking to her all the while so that her attention remained on him and not on the sheer drop he knew would panic her. He hoped her fear would ease in time...assuming she remained at Castle Lyon beyond today.
He did not know what the future would hold.
Hell, he could not imagine a future without Jenny.
She lied to me.
How could he ever trust her? Yet, how could he let her walk away?
He concentrated on guiding her down the cliff path, but once it widened and they were no longer on the heights, he thought about her again. She loved this place, he’d seen it in the glow of her eyes and her incandescent smile.
She was happy here.
He wanted to show her all of Mar. She’d only seen Castle Lyon and the town of Stonehaven. He wanted her to see the countryside. The hills and crags and hidden tarns. The hollowed out caves at the edge of the sea. He wanted to hold her in his arms as they watched the sleek, playful dolphins in the harbor and the nesting birds roosting among the ancient stones that lined the coast.
<
br /> Was he a fool?
The sun shone on her face and the salt-laden wind blew through the molten-gold strands of her hair. The wind also whipped along her gown so that it flattened the fabric to her body.
He ached looking at her.
She was so beautiful.
He released her when they reached flat ground and the anxious villagers began to gather around them. “Is Miss Jenny all right, Yer Grace?” one of them asked.
“Aye, Geordie. She’ll be fine. Just give her a moment to calm herself.”
“Och, those villains gave the poor lass a fright,” another of the townspeople said. “Good thing ye were there to stop them. What did they want with our Miss Jenny?”
“I dinna know yet, Mrs. MacAyre. But rest assured, I’ll find out.” Cheyne knew every last person gathered around them. They hardly knew Jenny, for she’d arrived less than a month ago, but they already thought of her as family. “I won’t let anyone harm our Jenny.”
Yes, she belonged. Ours.
He wanted more. Mine. If not for the lies, he’d be on bended knee proposing to her now.
Jenny smiled at the villagers and took a moment to thank them all. To his surprise, she knew most of their names and made a point of expressing her gratitude to each one personally.
Aye, she had the grace of a duchess.
He tucked her arm in his and led her back to the castle. He purposely walked slowly, not because he feared she was not steady on her feet, but because he needed to talk to her. “Jenny, tell me what happened. I’d like to hear the truth from ye before I question these men. Let’s start with ye telling me who ye really are.”
She sighed raggedly. “My name is Jenny Bramwell and I happen to be Jenny Bradford’s best friend. She is the Jenny who married your brother. Little Johnny is her son. He is truly your nephew. But I suppose you know that since all the Lyon men seem to have the same birthmark on their backsides.”
She blushed at the mention of it, but he laughed. “I knew ye were looking, lass. So ye noticed the dark pink mark in the shape of a lion on me and my brothers, did ye?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry. It was rude of me to peek. But–”
“Ye crept into my bedchamber and grabbed my spyglass.”
She winced. “I did. But I touched nothing else and I returned it to its exact spot afterward. I couldn’t help myself. I was curious. I didn’t realize you all carried the mark. It was a revelation. This is why you accepted Johnny so readily. He’s a Lyon of Mar. You knew it the moment you saw me clean his buttocks.”
“Aye.” They continued to walk in no particular hurry. He sensed Jenny was reluctant to face these men. He would ask about them soon. But he still had questions about her and the bairn. “How did you come to be the one to bring Johnny to me?”
She frowned lightly. “It all happened in a blur, actually. When my father passed away, his brother became my guardian. Since my father had let a lovely home in Oxford and we had another two years left on the term, his brother and the brother’s wife came to live with me. All seemed to be going well until one day Lord Finster came around. He claimed to be eager to meet me.”
Her frown deepened. “I did not think much of it at the time, never believing his interest would last long. Men like him seek out heiresses. Why would he bother to court a girl who could bring nothing to the marriage?”
Cheyne paused to study her. “Jenny, he seems to think ye’re an heiress.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why. I’m as puzzled about it as you are. I have nothing that I’m aware of. My greatest treasures are my mother’s locket and a trunk of books my father left me. I brought two of them up here with me. I’ve mentioned them to you. They’re tucked away in the top drawer of my...of your mother’s bureau. They were my father’s prized possessions. He’d loaned them to the Bodleian Library, but the curator returned them to me after he died.”
“Jenny, do you think their attempt to abduct you is about these books?”
She seemed genuinely surprised. “My father did pour most of his earnings into his library. But while holding the prestigious title of Oxford don may be quite grand, the salary that comes with it is not. I cannot imagine how these books could be worth a king’s ransom.”
“All right. We’ll talk about them later. Tell me how you came to know my brother.”
“Jenny’s father and mine were history professors at Oxford, and we’d grown up as best friends. John was in her father’s class. She met him at a tea her father held at their home for his best students. I was there as well because Jenny and I have been inseparable since the day we met. She adored John. I think it was love at first sight for her. Your brother seemed quite taken with her as well.”
“Jenny, did they marry?”
She cast him a warm smile. “Yes, it was quite official. There is no doubt they are lawfully wed or that little Johnny was...um, conceived after they were husband and wife.”
Cheyne breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry he did not invite you and your brothers to the ceremony. It was a simple affair, but quite elegant.”
“Och, lass.” He ran a hand through his hair in consternation. “I’m to blame. He was afraid to reach out to me and get kicked in the teeth. He thought I hated him. He must have thought I meant to cut him out of the family for good.”
She nodded. “But you’ll make it right when he returns. If any good comes of my lies, I hope it is that you now know how much your brother loves you. Reconcile with him, Lyon. Tell him that you love him. Make your family whole again.”
“The Lyons of Mar. I will, lass.” He gave a curt nod. “Now tell me how ye came to be mixed up in delivering the bairn to me.”
“It was all quite unexpected. John was leaving England on a new venture that would take him away for months, possibly as long as a year. Jenny was brokenhearted.”
Cheyne nodded in understanding. “The letter he wrote, it was meant to introduce your friend to me. Blue eyes.”
“Yes,” she said with a blush. “But when Lord Finster surprised me by proposing marriage and my hideous uncle accepted him on my behalf, I didn’t know what to do. I ran to Jenny for help. John had just left home to catch his sailing ship and she was in tears. Then suddenly, she wasn’t distraught any more. She told me to run home, pack a few belongings, and come to stay with her. So I did. When I returned, her maid told me Jenny had dashed off to the docks for a final farewell before John sailed. I thought I was to watch Johnny for the afternoon, but she never came back. As the day wore on, her father and I became frantic with worry. Then her maid handed two notes to me. Jenny had told her to give them to me at eight o’clock precisely. One was from her. The other was the note John had meant for her to bring to you.”
“And now ye had both...and the bairn.”
“Yes. She wanted me to head to Castle Lyon in her place and pretend to be her until she and John returned. She asked for my sacred promise to do this. I wasn’t going to do any such thing, of course. Then Lord Finster and my uncle came around to Jenny’s house. I heard them threaten her father when he wouldn’t allow them in. They threatened him, a distinguished Oxford professor. He is a dear and gentle man.”
Cheyne tried to remain calm, but he was angry for so many reasons. First, he was angry over Finster and her uncle’s schemes. Second, he was appalled that John and his wife could abandon their baby. Yes, it was to leave their son in the care of someone they trusted. The two friends were obviously as close as sisters. Still, to abandon their only child? “You were afraid of what those scoundrels would do to you.”
She nodded. “Even Jenny’s father was afraid for me. The next thing I knew, I had the letter John wrote to introduce you to his wife. I had the baby and a coach ticket. As for that sacred promise, her father asked it of me as well. He wasn’t certain how we’d be greeted, if your hatred of John extended to his little boy.”
“Jenny, that would make me a monster.”
“We didn’t know you then. We feared there
was a real possibility you would toss us out of your home. Or worse, take Johnny and toss me out.”
“Ye had reason to be frightened. My behavior toward my brother...I’m sorry, lass. I never meant to cause ye worry.”
She cast him a hesitant smile. “You have a daunting way about you, a dark scowl that can make a person quake in their boots. And John had told me stories about you. As I approached the castle, I felt as though I was walking into a dragon’s lair. But once I’d met you, I knew you would never hurt John’s child. I think John knew it or he would not have tried to send Jenny up here. As reckless as your brother can be at times, he never once insulted your honor. He trusted you and knew you would always protect those he held closest to his heart.”
Cheyne’s own heart was now twisted in knots. He ached so badly he could not speak.
Jenny sighed. “By the time I trusted you enough to tell you the truth, you’d gone off to Edinburgh. I’ve been trying to tell you ever since.”
“Aye, lass. I know ye have.”
“I wrote to Jenny’s father to let him know I’d safely arrived and all was well. I’ll write to him again to explain why I can no longer stay. I’ll assure him Johnny will have the best care with you. He’ll understand.” She glanced up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Please let Professor Bradford visit his grandson. Don’t punish him for wanting to protect me.”
“Och, lass. I willna hurt the old man.” Did she feel the need to ask? He would send off a personal invitation this very day. He would invite him to remain at Castle Lyon for as long as he wished.
But why would Jenny believe him? He’d pushed his own brother away and now she thought he was going to push her away, too.
“You see,” she continued, “My friend is a lot like your brother. Clever, charming, endearing, but they both have an impulsive streak. Perhaps it is what makes them so well matched. They understand each other and want the same things out of life. Travel, adventure. Her father and I don’t know when they will return. What if something happens to them on their voyage and they never make it home?”