“Then she has not.” Haywood raised eyes that pleaded for the answer he wished. “Will she?”
“Oh, aye, she may,” Graham said. “About the time she’s shoveled the last scoop of dirt on your grave.”
“I said, I do not care,” Elizbeth snapped.
Graham turned as his niece marched toward him. Matland watched, mouth slightly ajar and expression stunned. Graham could muster little sympathy for the fool. He should either have come clean the moment Elizbeth went to him or kept the course his honor and calling dictated. Either would have seen the lass less enraged.
Elizbeth stopped before them and lifted her chin. “Uncle Graham, Mister Haywood, I am ready to go.”
Chapter Nine
Elizbeth swayed in rhythm to the gait of the horse on which she rode seated before Mister Haywood, half in his lap and too fuming mad to give a wit about propriety. She had never been so angry. Ever. Why, if she were a man, she would have done more than slap Robert. Mister Matland. Indeed, she would have run him through.
“Miss McKinley.” Mister Haywood’s words were warm against her hair. “While I appreciate your fortitude, would you mind appearing a touch more distraught? We need to convince your coachman that I am kidnapping you.”
Elizbeth gave a sharp nod and tried to relax her frame as they rounded the bend. The carriage came into sight ahead. Elizbeth willed tears. She’d shed enough of them earlier on Robert’s behalf. Helping her find a few more now was the least he could do. But tears wouldn’t come. All she could manage was to tremble with anger. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped fervently that would do.
“Daniel, get that coachman down from the carriage and keep a gun on him,” Mister Haywood ordered, voice raised to carry. “The maid got away, but I recaptured this one. Gave me quite the chase, she did.”
“You heard the man, get down,” the young man seated beside Matthew ordered.
Matthew hesitated. The young man, Daniel, jabbed a pistol at him. Matthew started to climb down. As they neared, Elizbeth took in the similarities between Daniel and Robert, clearly brothers. The same aquiline nose, thick dark locks, chocolate colored eyes. Robert’s shoulders were broader, she supposed, and his ears didn’t stick out so much as his younger brother’s. She hoped Matthew didn’t have the presence of mind to notice any similarity. That would be awkward for Robert to explain. Not that it mattered. Robert Matland could hang, for all she cared.
Mister Haywood halted his horse beside the carriage. “You keep an eye on him while I tie the horses to the back and put Miss McKinley inside,” he said to Daniel. “Miss McKinley, I am going to set you down now. If you try to escape again, if you don’t do as I tell you, I will have my friend shoot your coachman.”
Elizbeth didn’t have to feign a gasp. Mister Haywood was certainly a competent actor. The determination she read in Matthew’s expression sent a wave of fresh fear through her and she shook her head. The last thing she wanted was for Matthew to carry out any heroics. She didn’t really know to what lengths Mister Haywood and Daniel Matland would go to subdue him. Especially Daniel. He had no way to know Elizbeth was now going willingly.
Mister Haywood lowered Elizbeth to the ground. “Get into the carriage, Miss McKinley, and stay there.” He pulled his pistol free and angled it at her, but trained his gaze on Matthew. “The same threat goes for you, lad,” he said. “Start anything and I will shoot her. Her father’s rich, but the lass is worth only so much trouble.”
Even though Mister Haywood hadn’t cocked the pistol, even though she believed her Uncle Graham, Elizbeth yanked open the carriage door and scuttled inside, away from the weapon and the hard glint in Mister Haywood’s eyes. She slammed the door closed behind her.
She could hear the men move without. After what seemed an eternity, the door opened. Mister Haywood’s broad shoulders blocked out the light as he climbed in. He dropped into the seat opposite her and closed the door.
“We tied up your coachman, but your uncle will be by soon to find him,” Mister Haywood whispered.
The coach lurched forward. Elizbeth nodded, relieved. She willed herself to do as Uncle Graham said and trust Mister Haywood. She must now, for she was in his power. Alone. In the carriage. Not that the where mattered so much as the fact. Elizbeth had never been alone with any man before. Not like this. Not even Robert. Their one kiss stolen in the parlor when everyone else proceeded them to dinner had been the closest she’d come. Her mouth went dry at the memory and she dropped her gaze to her hands.
“It was a shock to me when your great-grandmother sent me to keep you safe from Faucon’s machinations,” Mister Haywood said. “I have not seen you since you were a wee lass. I hadn’t realized you’d grown into a woman already, fit for a man to marry.”
She glanced up to catch his grimace.
“Not,” he added, “that the French would baulk at forcing a child to wed should it suit their purpose.”
Elizbeth’s mind went to Margarette, though her sister was not a child either. “We have met before, sir?” she asked, deciding to focus on the less unsettling of his words.
Mister Haywood shook his head. “Not so you would know it. Long ago, your uncle, aunt and I were dear friends. We were younger then, too. Younger than you are now. We had no interest in James’s daughters. I glimpsed you, though, now and then. You and little Margarette.”
“Margarette has also grown,” Elizbeth offered, for wont of anything better to say. She frowned. “Did I hear aright, that Uncle Graham said she and Aunt Davina had ridden away from Kaerndal Hall?”
“You have good hearing, lass,” Mister Haywood said, with the air of a man marking something not to forget. “Aye, he did say they fled on horseback.” A slight smile flicked across his lips.
Worry dug into Elizbeth’s gut. “Will you be able to find Margarette and Aunt Davina, and keep them from being sent to France?”
“I should think so,” Mister Haywood said. “But none of you will be truly safe from your father’s plans ‘til ye wed.”
Elizbeth stilled. “Wed?” Only that morning, marriage was what she most longed for in all the world. Now, the thought soured in her gut. “Are we not running from Kaerndal Hall, so I won’t be forced to wed?”
“So you will not be forced to wed a Frenchman.” Mister Haywood’s voice was calm but his eyes keen as he regarded her. “Marrying a good, solid Scot would solve the trouble once and for all. Free up good men to other concerns in stopping this rebellion.”
“Marry a Scot?” Elizbeth whispered.
“Aye, but worry not, lass. We are not the French. You may choose.” He offered a hard grin. “And if you cannot, I will order young Daniel Matland to make you his bride. He’s about your age and he will be kind to you.”
Elizbeth stared across the carriage at the hard, implacable features of Mister Haywood. Why, after twenty-two years of life, did everyone, of a sudden, wish to see her wed?
***
Graham rode up to the stables of Kaerndal Hall at a gallop, Matthew clinging to his belt and bouncing about on the rump of his horse. Framed in the large, gaping stable doors loomed James, arm raised, crop clenched in his fist. Before him, knees in the dust on the stable floor and arms raised to shield is head, crouched the stablemaster, Mister Crawford.
“What the devil is going on here?” Graham pulled his horse to a halt outside the stable doors.
James whirled to face him. Behind Graham, Matthew clattered to the ground with a yelp. Graham swung free of the saddle. Mister Crawford, expression stricken, peeked through his arms as James lowered the riding crop and strode into the afternoon light to meet Graham.
“He let Davina and Margarette ride away,” James roared. “He saddled horses for them.”
“For God’s sake, James, did Mister Crawford have any notion he ought not saddle horses for members of our family?” Graham started to add that they had bigger problems than even Davina and Margarette’s absence, but the scowl plastered across James’s face deepened.
> His attention snapped to something over Graham’s shoulder. “That is one of my coachmen.”
“Aye,” Graham agreed. “I found him trussed up on the roadway while I was out looking for Davina and Margarette.”
James shook his head. “They didn’t take a coach.”
“No. Elizbeth did.”
“Elizbeth,” James repeated slowly as if he’d forgotten his elder daughter. “Where is she?”
Graham turned and gestured Matthew forward. Matthew’s gaze remained fixed on the crop in James’s hand as he shuffled to Graham’s side. Matthew bowed, doing a poor job of it.
“Sir, I am so sorry,” he mumbled.
“Sorry?” James demanded.
Graham placed a hand on the coachman’s shoulder. “Tell him what you told me.”
“We was set upon by highwaymen, sir,” Matthew stammered. “They took the coach at gunpoint. Then, when we reached that sharp bend near Littleton Manor, Miss McKinley and Rosie jumped out. I ain’t never seen anything like it, sir. They rolled down the bank, and I couldn’t stop the carriage in time to see what happened next.”
“Rolled down the bank?” James paled. “Was Elizbeth harmed?”
No thought for the maid, Graham noted, but at least James seemed concerned for his daughter.
“Well, the one brigand was riding and he went back,” Matthew continued, seeming buoyed by James’s show of care. “He was gone a long while, but he came back with Miss McKinley and she looked well enough, sir. He said he chased her and lost sight of Rosie.” Matthew looked about. “I reckon she would have run to Littleton Manor and might be back here by now, sir.”
James glanced about, as well. His gaze settled on Mister Crawford, who had stood and backed up several paces. “Crawford, go see if my daughter’s maid has returned.”
“Yes, sir.” Mister Crawford dashed from the stable.
James turned back to Matthew. “Why did you not stop them from taking Elizbeth?”
“They took me by surprise, sir, the first time, two of ‘um with p-pistols,” Matthew stammered. “And when the one came back with Miss McKinley after she nearly escaped, he said he would shoot her if I tried anything, sir.”
James fingered the riding crop. “You have no idea where they intended to take her?”
Matthew took a step backwards. “Nae. They said nothing. Just tied me to the tree where your brother found me.”
James hesitated and Graham feared his brother would take the whip to Matthew.
“Get out of my sight.” James snapped.
Matthew nodded, assayed another bow, and scuttled away.
“It’s not the servants’ fault, James,” Graham said, voice low, although they appeared to be alone.
“Put together a search party,” James ordered. “Send for MacLaine. He’s our best tracker. See if they can find Elizbeth. Everyone knows our carriages. They cannot have gone far. What the bloody hell is going on today?” A scowl marred his face. “Where would Davina go?” he asked, though his gaze was abstract, not aimed at Graham. “Where would she take Margarette? They cannot get far. They won’t have the stamina to ride for long.”
Graham rather felt they would. Davina, especially Davina full of anger and spurred by fear, should not be underestimated. No reason to share that thought with James, though. Instead, he offered, “I checked her room before I went out to look. Her jewelry is missing.”
James’s attention snapped to Graham. “She will try to sell it.”
Graham nodded. “I imagine so.”
“She’ll have to go into the city for that.”
Graham frowned. Would Davina head into Inverness? He found it difficult to believe their sister didn’t have some ready funds squirreled away. From Inverness, they could take a ship. Heaven above, Davina could go anywhere. Graham shook his head. James’s madness was catching. Davina wouldn’t go far. Not without Elizbeth. She wouldn’t abandon one niece to save the other.
“You have contacts in the city,” James said. “Put out the word. If anyone tries to sell Davina’s jewelry, I want to know.”
Graham nodded. He wanted to know, as well, and long before James.
“Crawford said they headed across the east meadow,” James continued. “Only useful information he had. I will organize men to go after them.”
“I can go,” Graham offered. Putting out word about Davina’s baubles could wait.
James regarded him for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “Nae. I think not. Send out the search party for Elizbeth then, after you conclude your business in Inverness, return here. Immediately. I believe I want you by my side, little brother.”
“If you insist, but—”
“Do you know, were something to happen to me, that you would be next in line for the throne?” James said.
Graham jerked back in shock. “What are you saying?”
“I am not saying anything.”
“Aye,” Graham grated out. “But you are implying a great deal.”
“Just return here where I can keep an eye on you,” James ordered. “I do not mean to misplace any more family members.” He turned on his heels and stomped away, riding crop still clutched in one hand.
Graham stared after his brother. After all this time, all the oddities they’d put up with since Maryanne’s death, had James finally truly gone insane?
Chapter Ten
Davina slowed when they reached the trees. A glance showed Margarette followed suit.
“What are we going to do?” Margarette sounded on the verge of tears.
“We are going to find Elizbeth, then…” Then what?
“What?” Margarette asked.
“Then we will go to Inverness.”
“Inverness?”
A rustling to the right caused Davina to jerk her head in that direction. A flock of crows took flight. Her heart pounded. Would anyone notice the birds? She steered her horse around a large pine. Where were they most likely to intercept Elizbeth? Could they chance being on the road? She covertly glanced at Margarette. Might she hide her niece somewhere safe while she searched for Elizbeth? Nae. Friends and neighbors were where James would first look for them.
They could go no faster than a walk within the trees, giving Davina more than enough time to worry. She simply couldn’t believe that only yesterday they’d been sitting in the parlor with their biggest problem being trying to get Margarette to complete her lessons. Had that really been just yesterday morning? Her heart thumped.
Oh, James, what have you done?
Davina forced calm and prayed they encountered Elizbeth before she reached home. That was, if she returned home. What if Mister McFarlan believed Elizbeth’s story and married her post haste as Elizbeth wanted? Davina shook her head. If Robert had any backbone at all, he would at least escort Elizbeth home and speak with James.
What a tangled mess. If only she’d had the presence of mind to leave Graham a note. But what might she have said to him? Nothing that wouldn’t give away to James that she and Margarette had fled. Nothing that would help Graham find them.
“What are we going to do?” Margarette said in a small voice.
The road came into view where it crested a small hill not far ahead. Davina brought her horse to a halt. Margarette stopped beside her. Davina looked at Margarette and gave her a gentle smile, then returned her attention to the roadway.
“What are we doing?” Margarette asked, voice anxious.
“Waiting for Elizbeth.”
“How long do we wait?”
Davina didn’t reply, her focus on the road. Minutes ticked by. Margarette’s questioned echoed in the silence.
After what she guessed to be over a quarter of an hour, despair inched into Davina’s heart. How long was it safe to wait? How long until James had the forest searched?
Where was Elizbeth? There were few ways a carriage could travel. Had Mister McFarlan taken her to safety? Davina’s heart clenched. Dear God, please let that be so.
“This way,” Davina said, a
nd turned her horse west, toward the road.
A rider crested the hill, coming from Inverness.
“Wait,” Davina ordered.
“Who is it?” Margarette whispered.
Davina’s heart fell. Not Elizbeth, but a lone rider.
“We will wait until he passes, then be on our way,” she said.
Davina glanced left and right at the scrubby pines edging the woods. A horrifying thought occurred. What if the rider noticed them in the trees?
“Come, Margarette. We must move deeper into the woods until he passes.”
Davina turned her horse. They picked their way into the forest. The sound of hooves on packed earth sounded distressingly near. When the clatter drew abreast of them, Davina went still. She counted out rapid heartbeats. Obscuring trees rendered the rider a flicker of movement.
“We will wait until he has passed,” she whispered to Margarette. “Then head toward Inverness. We’ll stay off the road for a time.”
The pounding of hooves passed, then faded. Davina started the slow process of maneuvering her horse through the cramped space among the branches. Beside her, Margarette struggled to do the same. It would be easier to lead their mounts among the pines, but they might need all the speed they could muster at any moment. Besides which, Davina wasn’t certain Margarette could mount astride without assistance.
Twenty minutes later, they struggled from the trees, then reached the road in moments. Davina glanced to the right, in the direction of Kaerndal Hall. The section of road that they had been unable to see from the trees as they’d ridden extended a mile behind them. If Elizbeth had been on that stretch of roadway they would never overtake her before she reached home. Fear gripped Davina’s heart at that small unknown, but she turned her horse toward Inverness.
“Do you think we missed Elizbeth?” Margarette asked in a small voice.
Davina shook her head, though she feared they had. She resisted the urge to press her horse into a gallop and settled for a trot. They presented a memorable enough appearance riding astride without racing through the countryside, as well. Behind her, Margarette followed suit.
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