“Aye,” Marcus agreed.
The sound of boots on carpeted floor were heard, and Price said, “That would be our young friend now.”
As if on cue, the door opened and Steven entered. “Elise is safely on the Josephine.”
“She is well?” Marcus asked with as much calm as he could exert.
Steven turned his glare to Price. “She has a dislocated shoulder and looks as if she hasn't bathed since her abduction.”
Marcus jerked his gaze back to Price and barely managed to check the compulsion to lunge across the desk.
“Your brother-in-law will now take a message to the captain that he is to set sail before the hour is up,” Price said.
“I will not leave,” Steven shot back.
“Aye, you will.” Marcus prayed the boy wouldn't pull the pistol he'd noticed stuffed into his waistband. “You have pen and paper?”
Price produced paper from a desk drawer and laid it before Marcus as he scooted the quill, sitting at his left, up alongside the paper. Marcus wrote the note instructing the Josephine to set sail immediately, then folded the missive and extended it toward Steven.
“Anyone can deliver this,” Steven protested.
Marcus shook his head. “You take it, lad, and be on the ship when she sails.” This Marcus had not discussed with Steven, for the boy would not have agreed. Chances were, he wouldn't obey now.
Steven looked from Marcus to Price, then snatched the note from Marcus's grasp. He settled his gaze on Price. “We aren't finished.”
Price nodded with a sigh and Steven faced Marcus. “You shouldn't have come here.”
“Take care of Elise,” Marcus said.
“That I will,” he said, and left.
Marcus focused on Price. “My father, the Duke of Ashlund, will be waiting for the Josephine when she arrives. If anything happens to Elise or Steven, if any attempts are made to harm either of them, someone will set sail from Scotland before I step onto Scottish soil.”
“I have no intention of harming Elise.”
Aye, neither will you harm her brother, Marcus silently added. “How long am I to wait here?” Marcus asked.
“Until word arrives that the Josephine is well out of Boston Harbor. I estimate two hours.”
“A guard stands outside this door?”
Price gave a single nod.
“I would have preferred to wait at one of the harbor taverns,” Marcus said, not feeling the slightest twinge of guilt at the lie. He had planned all along to be here when the men of Landen Shipping arrived on Ardsley's door about the same time the Josephine left Boston Harbor.
“Shall I have refreshments served?” Price asked.
“Nae,” Marcus replied. “I dine only with friends.”
Nearly two hours of silence later, there came a quick knock on the library door. Price looked toward the door as it opened and Simons entered.
“Sir,” the butler said out of breath, “Mister Brentley and the other gentlemen from Landen Shipping are downstairs. They are demanding to see you—” A pounding of footsteps in the hallway intruded into Simon's speech. “There they are, sir. I feared they would not wait.”
Brentley appeared in the doorway. The rest of Landen Shipping's board of directors piled up behind him. Brentley stepped inside the room and looked at Marcus, who rose.
“We have just come from the Josephine,” Brentley said.
“The Josephine?” Price asked evenly.
“Yes,” Brentley replied, and the room broke out into a babble of voices. “Gentlemen,” he shouted. “Gentlemen, please!”
Another figure appeared behind the men. The din quieted as Steven pushed past them and halted beside Marcus.
“You should have sailed on the Josephine,” Marcus said.
“As should you have,” Steven replied.
“Price,” Brentley said, “we have just spoken with Miss Poteck and Elise.”
“Miss Poteck?” Price said as if he had never heard the name in his life.
“Don't,” Brentley cut in, his quiet voice harsh. He produced two folded pieces of paper from his front coat pocket. He unfolded them and held up one. “This is a signed affidavit from Miss Poteck, explaining in detail how you paid her to impersonate Elise Kingston.” Price frowned, but Brentley went on. “This,” he lifted the other document, “is Elise's statement.” He continued in a half strangled voice, “She swears you kidnapped her in Scotland and brought her to Boston against her will, then incarcerated her in Danvers Hospital.” Marcus's heart raced as if hearing this for the first time. Brentley lowered the papers. “If I had been given this information without the benefit of witnesses, I would put a bullet between your eyes.”
A murmur circulated through the men. Surprise flickered across Price's impassive face. Marcus had the sudden urge to slip the knife from his boot and throw it at him. However, the mental image of Price's fine white shirt darkening with his blood dissipated when Brentley said, “As it is, I will have to satisfy myself with the punishment allowed by the law. As you may know, Judge Quinley and I are well acquainted. I will see to it he takes a personal interest in this case. I have always known you were a scoundrel, but this”—Brentley faltered—”this goes beyond anything I could have imagined.”
He shook his head, his blue eyes clouded with disbelief. “The things Elise claims in this document…” He paused and held Price's gaze. “It's a wonder the girl survived.” He looked at Marcus. “You have my deepest sympathies, Lord Ashlund.”
Marcus's gut twisted. What more was wrong with Elise than Steven had admitted? What had Brentley seen that the younger man hadn't? Marcus gave a single nod and, once again, everyone began talking. He glanced at Ardsley. Price met his gaze with the same unruffled expression he always wore. A chill passed through Marcus. He turned and left the room.
A moment later, Marcus and Steven stepped from the mansion out onto the front steps. Marcus looked from the boy who stood at the bottom of the stairs holding his and Steven's horses across the trees surrounding the mansion to the sky that hinted at dawn. He and Steven strode down the steps, mounted their horses and urged them into a walk. They rode in silence until passing from the gates.
“Elise is safely sailed on the Surrey?” Marcus asked.
“Justin smuggled her off the Josephine. An easy feat with the Surrey docked only two slips down. I watched the ship sail. No one suspected a thing, including Brentley and the others.”
Marcus allowed the first breath of relief since Elise had gone missing. Autumn was just beginning. The journey would be an easy one. “Steven,” he said in a quiet voice, “is she truly well?”
“As I said, her shoulder is dislocated and she hasn't bathed since leaving Scotland.”
“Otherwise?”
Steven hesitated, then said, “In a way, she's the Elise I knew; in a way, she isn't.” He paused. “She has passed through fire since I last saw her, but losing Amelia changed her, and there is her marriage to you.”
“We were wed but a night when Price took her.”
Steven blew out a breath. “You didn't mention that.”
Marcus looked at him. “She is my wife. It doesn't matter whether for a day or a year.”
“I suppose not.” Another moment of silence passed and Steven said, “She had no idea you were coming for her.”
Marcus jerked his gaze onto Steven.
“I believe she had hoped you wouldn't come.”
“Bloody hell,” Marcus burst out. “Why?”
“It's easy to see she lied to you.”
“She didn't tell me about Ardsley.”
“Neither did she tell you she shot Robert.”
“Nae,” Marcus replied.
“She saved my life. You think she knew about the bounty on her head?”
“How could—” Marcus stopped, remembering the night at Michael's when she laid the onion before Michael after removing his copy of the Sunday Times—the copy Erin had brought.
Everyone in Brahan Seer kn
ew how Michael loved reading the newspaper. Anyone passing through Edinburgh brought a copy at least as far as the Glaistig Uain. From there, the copy, eventually, made its way to Michael. Elise lived at Brahan Seer for four months before Marcus returned. All that time she had been going to the cottage and searching the paper for news. By God, on his return from London the last time, he had brought a copy of the paper. It still sat on his desk.
“Why not simply ask to have the paper brought to Brahan Seer?” Marcus whispered.
“What?” Steven asked.
“I thought I had never met a woman more stubborn.”
“And something has altered your assessment?”
Marcus smiled, but the smile faded as quickly as it appeared. He looked past the trees that lined the road up to the sky. The ship he was to sail on awaited him. Three more weeks would pass before he got his answers. His gut tightened another notch. He had enough answers to last a lifetime. Elise hadn't wanted him to come for her. Did he need more?
“She asked about you,” Steven said.
“What?” Marcus looked at him, startled.
“We had no time for discussion.” Steven gave a mirthless laugh. “Seems that's how it has been with us for some time. Had I taken more time—never mind. We had a devil of a time convincing her to get on the ship this morning. She didn't want to leave without you.”
Relief mingled with frustration. “By God,” Marcus muttered.
Steven laughed in earnest this time. “Surely, you expected no less.”
“I expect her to have some common sense.”
“What is common sense, Ashlund? Well, never mind. She's made a mess of things and knows it—”
A shot rang out.
A bullet whizzed past Marcus's ear. His horse lunged forward. Marcus yanked on the reins, following Steven, who already galloped for the cover of trees. Another shot resounded and Marcus saw wood splinter in the tree he sped past. He pulled his horse up alongside the place Steven had leapt from his horse.
“Price,” Steven hissed.
He yanked the pistol from his waistband and crept toward the edge of the trees. Marcus jumped from his horse and started after him. Steven halted just before the trees gave way to the road, then darted from the cover of the forest.
“Steven!” Marcus shouted, and raced after him.
Marcus's heart hammered against his chest. He dove into the trees across the road and came to a skidding halt at seeing Steven, pistol raised and aimed at Kiernan.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Steven yelled, and squeezed back on the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Marcus paused on the deck of the Dauntless, one foot on the gangplank, and scanned the Edinburgh dock. It was not quite noon, yet storm clouds filled the sky, casting dark shadows reminiscent of nightfall. The docks teemed with activity. Bales of dry goods and crates of supplies lay stacked on the boardwalk. Sailors and dock workers hurried to load them onto ships before the rains fell. Marcus spotted Erin near a crowd of sailors.
Erin caught his gaze, and Marcus nodded, then started forward. He avoided a man carrying a bag of provisions on his shoulder and stepped onto the dock. For the thousandth time, Marcus swore an oath to go to the grave before setting foot on another ship bound for America. He had been forced to make too many hard choices these last three months—more than enough to last a lifetime. Elise might never forgive some of the choices.
He stopped before Erin, who was looking past him. “What is it?” Marcus demanded.
“I don't see Kiernan.”
Marcus's throat tightened. “Kiernan—”
“Father!”
He turned at hearing his son call.
The boy was hurrying down the gangplank. He dodged his way through the people and passing hackneys before reaching Marcus.
“Kiernan,” Erin said with obvious relief. “Your grandfather sends word you are to come immediately—”
“Kiernan will be going straight to London,” Marcus said. “I will deal with my father.” Marcus looked pointedly at Kiernan.
“Yes, Father. Directly to London.”
“Do not return to Brahan Seer until I send for you.”
“That's rather unreason—”
“You have no say in the matter,” Marcus cut him off.
Kiernan sighed. “As you say, Father.”
“If I hear you have left London before I give permission to do so, I'll come for you myself.”
“So you have said,” Kiernan replied.
“Then you comprehend the situation.”
“I do.”
Marcus gave him a curt nod. “I assume you can make your way from here?”
“Of course.”
The sailors who stood nearby suddenly let up a cheer and several among their ranks jostled Marcus and Kiernan. Marcus motioned Kiernan and Erin to follow. He strode several paces from them, then stopped and faced the two young men.
“It's early yet,” he said to Kiernan, “you can cover at least a third of the journey if you start immediately.” Marcus looked at Erin. “You brought three horses?”
“Aye. They are at the Bliney tavern.”
“Good. Kiernan, you may have lunch before leaving. Erin and I will begin straightaway for Brahan Seer.” Marcus started in the direction of the tavern but stopped when Erin said, “Laird.” He turned. Neither of the young men had moved. “What is it?”
“Lady Ashlund is not at Brahan Seer.”
“Not at—where the bloody hell is she?”
“Ashlund.”
Marcus frowned. “Is something amiss at Brahan Seer?”
“Nae,” Erin quickly assured him. “She simply refused to go there.”
“Has my father seen her?”
“He is at Ashlund.”
Erin reached into his pocket and produced a note. Marcus recognized the paper his father used on the rare occasions he wrote missives. He took the letter, tore open the seal, and read.
Marcus,
Elise is safely in Ashlund. When she refused to come to Brahan Seer, I left for Ashlund. She gave me your letter. I read it, then read it to her, but only after she confessed to me what she says is her entire story. It seems she knew nothing of your travels in America. I believe the danger you faced genuinely upset her. That is only right.
I thought it better not to force her to return to Brahan Seer, so we await you in Ashlund. Bring my grandson with you.
Cameron
Ashlund lay a three-hour hard ride away. He would see Elise before the evening meal.
Three hours later, Marcus and Erin rode into the stables at Ashlund. The stables were empty when they arrived, so Marcus left Erin to attend his horse and hurried to the mansion. His butler met him.
“Welcome home, Lord Ashlund,” Nelson cried.
“Nelson.” Marcus smiled. “Where will I find my father?”
“He is in the library, I believe.”
“And my wife?”
Nelson looked thoughtful. “She planned to go to the solarium.”
Marcus didn't move.
“Was there something else, Lord Ashlund?” Nelson asked.
“Nae,” Marcus replied, and strode down the hall toward the solarium.
Marcus jerked open the solarium door with unexpected violence. He paused, startled at the intensity of feeling, then, regaining his composure, stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him. He had a clear view of the aisle ahead of him and Elise wasn't in sight. He started forward, scanning the foliage and flowers that separated the aisle he walked down from the other aisle. Suddenly, he caught sight of her through the calanthe rosea. She stood gazing out the window, her back to him. The small lavender orchids snaked up their fragile vines, framing her body between their branches.
He halted. The lush hair that hung loosely about her shoulders didn't hide the thinness of those shoulders and arms. He detected a difference in her stance. Gone was the lofty air. In its place was a stronger sense of being in the here and now. Steven was right; she was
the same yet wasn't.
Marcus continued forward. When he reached the end of the aisle, Elise turned as if she heard his approach. The faint smile on her face snapped into a gasp as their gazes met. She gave a cry and collapsed onto the stone bench beside her. Her hand flew to cover her heart and her wide eyes remained fixed on him. He halted a few feet from her. He discerned dark smudges beneath her eyes—eyes that weren't the clear brown he remembered. They wore a haunted look, one that perhaps mirrored his own. No joy shone in her expression. That, too, he knew, mirrored his own. Still, she was beautiful. Damn her—damn her beauty.
During the month-long trip to America he had remembered every lovely line of her face, the soft timbre of her voice and sweet gestures that had enchanted him so. Upon arriving in Boston, his thoughts had been consumed with finding her and bringing her safely home. Those months had distanced him from the goddess she had become in his mind and she had become the woman who stood before him now—more flesh and blood than angel.
As if reading his mind, she said, “I told you that you couldn't know.”
“I could have, had you told me.”
Elise dropped her gaze. “So easy to say now. I couldn't be sure—there was no time—”
“How much time would have been enough, Elise?”
She looked at him and he saw the tears pooling in her eyes.
The sadness in her expression deepened. “You're right.” She turned so that her profile was barely visible to him and he realized she fought tears. “I cannot believe you're here,” she said in a whisper. “Cannot believe I am here. You should have left me there. Were you hurt?”
“Look at me and see for yourself.” Her head jerked up and he locked her gaze. “Do I look well?”
“I—”
“Do I resemble a man who has lived the past three months in wedded bliss?”
“I know I endangered you,” she replied.
“And Kiernan.”
She blanched. “Yes, Kiernan—and the others. I didn't intend on returning. I wouldn't have done that to you.”
“Wouldn't have done that to me?” he thundered. “Instead, you would have left me in misery the remainder of my days?”
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