“Dear God,” Davina breathed. “You have gone mad.” Where was Graham?
“No, sister dear.” James shook his head. “For the first time since Maryanne left me, I am sane.” He stepped back and made a sweeping gesture. “You have your orders,” he told the room at large. “Take them away.”
Davina didn’t struggle as James’s men urged them deeper into the manor. Seigneur Faucon and his servant fell in beside Margarette. Even her niece’s sobs didn’t penetrate the numbness that engulfed Davina.
James was mad. He’d gone well and truly insane. Davina could only pray that his lack of information when faced with Margarette’s question about her sister meant Elizbeth, at least, had managed to escape.
Chapter Fourteen
Elden rose, a walled keep atop a broad butte. Elizbeth imagined that the slightly crumbling battlements afforded a fantastic view of the highlands, but she had no way to find out. Mister Haywood, with the air of one accustomed to being obeyed, forbade her from ascending to the top of the fortification. So, she sat in a small, stuffy parlor with thick stone walls that wept as the temperature without plummeted with the coming night. She knew not where Mister Haywood had gone, but Robert’s younger brother, Daniel, sat in the armchair on the other side of the fireplace, gaze intent on a book, though he’d yet to turn a page.
Elizbeth was determined not to like Daniel Matland. Being somewhere between Robert’s six and twenty and her two and twenty years, he bore too great a resemblance to his older brother, and she had absolutely no use for Robert Matland. He could go hang. Or drown. Or be shot. She simply didn’t care.
A vision of Robert’s strong features gone still and white in death rose to mind. Unbidden, she brought a hand to her lips to stifle a gasp. Nae. For all his betrayal, he shouldn’t die. She wouldn’t be able to bear it.
“Are you well, Miss McKinley?”
She shifted her gaze to meet concerned brown eyes. Robert’s eyes…but not. Daniel’s gaze held no judgement. His eyes also, now that she had leave to compare them, lacked a reserved, guarded quality she’d often noted in Robert’s, but willingly dismissed. She’d thought the look deferential. Now, she knew he’d raised walls behind which to hide. Walls he’d likely never had any intention of lowering.
“Your brother’s duty is to protect my father?” she asked.
Uncertainty stole across Daniel’s features, features so much easier to read than Robert’s. “I’m not certain I am at liberty to discuss Luchd-Dìon’s dealings with you, Miss.”
Elizbeth bit back a sharp retort. Daniel’s open, worried expression reminded her of an eager to please puppy, robbing her of the desire to wound. She mulled his reply over for a moment. “Did Mister Haywood tell you not to discuss Luchd-Dìon with me?”
He shook his head. Dark hair, longer and less perfectly combed than Robert’s, swung across his forehead. “No, Miss.”
“Mister Haywood strikes me as a man who gives very exact orders. I am certain that, if he didn’t mean for you to speak freely with me, he should have said as much.”
Daniel’s expression cleared. She felt a stab of guilt. Trusting, like a puppy. Like she’d been less than a day ago.
“You are correct, of course.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his book. “Aye, my brother’s task is to safeguard your father.”
“And us?”
“Well, yes, but only unless or until he must choose between you and your father.” Daniel flushed. “We’re taught, ‘tis the male line that is most important.”
“So, my father…” For the first time, Elizbeth considered her family from a monarchical view. “And then my Uncle Graham,” she realized. If her father was king of Scotland, Uncle Graham was Scotland’s prince, unless her father produced a son.
Daniel nodded, enthusiastic. “Aye, and then your aunt, Princess Davina.”
Princess Davina. The honorific echoed through Elizbeth’s mind, terrifying for what it could mean. “Should I not be Princess Elizbeth, then?” she asked, her voice too strained to achieve the humor she strove to project.
“Yes, Miss, but Mister Haywood said not to address you as such, even here, in case we’re overheard.”
Elizbeth softened her tone, “Then perhaps my aunt should be referred to as Miss McKinley, as well.”
Chagrin suffused Daniel’s features. He glanced about the room.
Yes, it felt like kicking a puppy. She would find no satisfaction in taking her anger at Robert out on his younger brother.
“I feel certain no one overheard,” she soothed.
“You would be wrong,” a hard voice said as the door opened. Mister Haywood stepped inside. “Daniel, consider yourself reprimanded.”
Daniel hung his head. “Aye, sir.”
Elizbeth bristled on his behalf. “Surely, within your own safehold, we may speak freely?”
Mister Haywood studied her a long moment. He turned away, sparking Elizbeth’s ire, but merely stuck his head back out the parlor doorway to look up and down the hall. He closed the heavy door carefully and crossed to the fireplace. There, he pushed the third dental molding on the massive mantel. To her surprise, a door, jagged edge formed of the very stone that made up the wall, swung inward. Haywood checked behind that door, as well, then closed the hidden corridor. He moved to the arrow slit that served as a window, though how anyone could hang without, battlements above and a sheer drop below, Elizbeth had no idea. Finally, he returned to stand before the fireplace.
“You should know, Miss McKinley,” Haywood began, “that no place is safe, and everyone is suspect.”
Elizbeth blinked, taken aback by his harsh tone. “What do you mean?”
“This move, approaching your father with the truth, comes from within Luchd-Dìon.”
“Aren’t the Luchd-Dìon dedicated to keeping my family’s secret, even from us?” Had she misunderstood? “Why would someone in your organization do such a thing? There could be war. We may all hang.”
Mister Haywood’s handsome features pulled into a grimace. “We are sworn not to divulge the truth of your lineage.” He gestured from his chest to Daniel’s. “Yet some among us have other plans. The traitors have been biding their time, pretending to serve our calling, waiting for the Cardinal Duke to pass. Most of us served Henry Stuart out of loyalty to him and his wishes. Others, it seems, with an eye for the Crown.”
“A ‘brathadh Luchd-Dìon,” Daniel added, tone far harsher than any Elizbeth had heard pass his lips.
The betrayers of the guardians, she mused, her Gaelic fair enough to interpret.
Had her uncle misplaced his trust? The Luchd-Dìon couldn’t even trust themselves. Obviously, Mister Haywood felt Daniel faithful to the cause. What about Robert? He had intended to carry her off before recognizing Mister Haywood, who’d immediately sent him away. A tremor rippled through her with the memory of his large hand on her waist in that instant before he pushed her behind him. He had intended to protect her. Tears pricked her eyes. By now, Robert had returned to her father, as ordered. She would never see him again. Wasn’t that what she wanted? How unwilling had he really been to leave her?
Elizbeth looked up to find Haywood studying her again, and couldn’t bring the question to her lips. As much as Robert’s duplicity had cut her to the quick, as much as she would have, moments ago, claimed he could hurt her no worse, she couldn’t ask. She wouldn’t be able to bear up under a second betrayal.
“Do you know the traitor’s identity?” she asked instead. “My uncle should be told.” Uncle Graham could be in danger, not knowing who to trust. Would he trust Robert?
Haywood shook his head. “The less Graham knows, the better for all.”
Elizbeth narrowed her gaze. “Why?”
“Your uncle is terrible at disassembling. James can read him too easily.”
Elizbeth knew her uncle wouldn’t lie to her. She’d never thought much beyond that. Mister Haywood seemed to know Uncle Graham. Could he be right?
“So, we aren’t safe her
e?” she asked.
“We are not, which is why it is time to move.”
“But it is long past sunset,” Elizbeth protested.
“Aye.” He nodded. “I have been waiting on full dark.” He turned to Daniel. “Daniel, you will drive. Hitch the fresh horses yourself. Inspect them, and their tack. We cannot be too careful. I will gather provisions.” He looked back at Elizbeth. “You can eat as we ride.”
Daniel stood. “Aye, sir.” He nodded to Mister Haywood, offered Elizbeth an unpolished bow, and strode out the door.
“Where are we going?” Elizbeth prayed the fear blooming within didn’t reach her voice.
How well did her uncle truly know this man, who confessed that even his own people weren’t trustworthy? All Uncle Graham, or Robert, for that matter, knew was that she’d been taken to a place called Elden. Once she left the keep, no one in Scotland, in the whole of the world, would know where to seek her.
“I will tell you once we’re on the road,” Mister Haywood said. “I dare not speak our plans aloud.”
“H-how will Daniel know which road to take?” Elizbeth stammered. Of the two—three, if she counted Robert—she most trusted Daniel Matland with his wide brown eyes.
A speculative look crossed Mister Haywood’s face. “Do you know, I have changed my mind. I believe I shall drive. You and Daniel seemed to have been engaged in pleasant conversation before I interrupted. I shouldn’t want to interfere with that.”
Did he hope that, if he threw her and Daniel together, she would come to care for Robert’s younger brother? He’d said she must marry a Scot, and that she might choose, but how many choices did she really have?
Of a height with Robert, but slenderer of build, Daniel seemed woefully young by comparison. Or less toughened by life? Certainly, less sure. Robert could be downright condescending.
Elizbeth worried her lower lip with her teeth.
“I said you would be permitted your choice,” Mister Haywood said, voice gentle, for once.
Elizbeth frowned. The man too-easily followed her thoughts. Did he really expect her to choose Robert’s younger brother? She didn’t know Daniel. They shared nothing. He hadn’t been a solid, stalwart force in her life, trusted beyond all others. Nor, any longer, was Robert. Not after his behavior this day. And oh, how it would cut him to have her wed to his little brother.
“We shall leave within the quarter hour, Miss McKinley,” Mister Haywood said, and crossed to the door.
“Wait,” Elizbeth called. She bit her lip, not wishing to sound foolish, but a new worry filled her. “Won’t people recognize my carriage? Our family is well known in these parts.”
He nodded with apparent pleasure. “Another reason I waited for dark.” He held up a hand, though she’d made no move to speak. “Furthermore, I have arranged for a different carriage. We need only reach the inn where it awaits us. I couldn’t risk having it brought here. Now, remain in this room. You will be safe. Daniel will fetch you when the time to depart is at hand.”
He slipped from the room and closed the door. A click sounded without. Elizbeth didn’t need to try the handle to know he’d turned the lock. She hurried to the mantel and pressed the third dental molding. The wood didn’t budge. She put the full weight of her body into the effort. Nothing moved. She tried the second, fourth, fifth, first…all of them.
Trembling slightly, Elizbeth sank back into her chair. She would simply have to await Daniel Matland. They would ride in the carriage together, and dine, while headed who knew where.
She sucked in a long, deep breath and considered her options. She may not know who to rely on, or where they were taking her, but she knew one thing for certain, she needed someone she could trust. By the time they reached their destination, whether she wished to wed Daniel or not, she would make sure Robert’s brother wanted to marry her.
Chapter Fifteen
Graham closed the door of his unlit chambers and leaned his pounding head against the cool wood. He’d returned from Inverness, where no one had seen or heard from Davina, only to find her and Margarette at Kaerndal Hall…and James’s prisoners.
One look at his brother’s face had deterred Graham from arguing against marrying Davina and Margarette to Frenchmen. James radiated mistrust. Like as not, he’d throw Graham in a much deeper dungeon than the root cellar, even if he had to order the staff to dig one. And who had flanked James during Graham’s report? The French pup, some brute of a highlander, and Robert Matland. There he’d stood, the man who claimed to love Elizbeth, and nodded as James told of how Matland had helped capture the women.
Graham grimaced. Matland wasn’t who he’d thought. Not stiff, young and spineless, but a skilled actor. Possibly a traitor. Obviously, a topnotch liar. The trouble came in sorting out which of Matland’s words were false.
“Oh dear, you seem very distressed,” a feminine voice said in distinct English accents.
Graham stifled a curse. Straightening, he turned from the door. Three strides brought him to the fireplace, which he stirred. “What the devil are you doing here, Miss Ingram?”
“I was napping, until you came in.”
He replaced the poker, then turned to find her on his bed, as fully clothed and strikingly beautiful as ever.
She propped herself up on her elbows. “Would you like me to light some candles? ‘Tis my fault it’s so dark. Your valet came in earlier, but I sent him away.”
Graham folded his arms across his chest, trying to ignore how her skin glowed in the firelight. “Three times is too great a coincidence, Miss Ingram.”
For the first time, it occurred to him that she’d appeared right at the start of their current predicament. Miss Ingram had found her way into his bed the very day the Frenchman arrived to impart his news to James.
She flushed. “You are right, of course.” She swung her feet to the floor and sat upright on the edge of his bed.
Graham blinked back surprise. “I am?”
Miss Ingram nodded and let out a long sigh. “I have a confession to make.”
“You’re here because of this mess with the Jac—” Graham began just as she blurted, “I am here to seduce you.”
Arms falling to his sides, Graham took a half step back. “I beg your pardon?”
She tilted her head. “Because of what mess?” A hand flew to her cheek, her eyes wide. “Never say something has happened to your money. Everyone says you are very wealthy, and possibly not too intelligent.” She frowned slightly. “But I must say, I feel they’re wrong about the latter.”
“Wealthy?” Graham shook his head. “Rich as sin. What do you mean, you are here to seduce me? You have yet to let me lay a finger on you.” Not that he’d found the opportunity.
She tipped her chin in the air. “Certainly not. You cannot get a man to marry you by giving him…that is…” Her cheeks reddened. “I am not one of your harlots, Mister McKinley.”
“I didn’t say you are.” Why was he defending himself to this woman? “But you did say you are here to seduce me.”
“That does not make me a harlot,” she declared.
Graham stared at her. James’s madness was catching. “Look, Miss Ingram, this is a truly fascinating conversation, one I would normally pursue with the utmost diligence, but I have more women on my mind than just you.”
She sprang to her feet. “Who? Is that where you have been? With some tramp?”
“Tramp?” Perhaps there was something in the water, some inciter of madness. “Nae, not that it’s a dollop of your concern.” He took two steps and grasped her arm. “I am afraid I must ask you to leave. Through the kitchen. You know the way.” It wouldn’t do to have James see her. Graham started her toward the bedroom door. “I will be happy to pick this up with you at some future date. Right now, I have to figure out how to get past a room full of men without doing them, or me, any lasting harm.” Damn it, she couldn’t go out through the kitchen. That’s where James’s guards were, outside the root cellar door.
“Oh, but that is simple,” she said.
Graham halted. “What’s simple?”
She swiveled in his grip, bringing those lush lips near his. “Getting past a group of men without harming them.”
He looked her up and down, then indulged in another, slower look. His entire day couldn’t be dedicated to unpleasantness, after all. “Even lovely as you are, and especially seeing as how you are most definitely not a harlot, I don’t see how you can expect to distract a room full of men.”
She shook her head. Lemon and cinnamon filled his senses. “You didn’t say distract them. You said get past them.” She slipped long fingers into her bodice. “We can drug them.” Her fingers reemerged clasping a slender vial.
Graham willed his jaw not to drop open in shock. “You carry poison in your cleavage?”
“What?” Her eyes widened slightly. She tipped the vial to scrutinize it. “Poison? Certainly not. What do you take me for? This is a sedative.”
Graham focused on the vial, as well. “It isn’t full.”
Miss Ingram reddened again. “Yes, well, I used some on you, that first night.”
If she wasn’t the loveliest woman he’d ever seen… He grasped her shoulders. Meeting her gaze squarely, voice low, he said, “You had best explain yourself.” She paled. He eased his grip and stroked soothing thumbs along her shoulders. “I am not that sort of rogue, Miss Ingram. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but I shall have the truth.”
She offered a shaky nod and drew in another deep, bodice straining breath. “I am pockets to let, you see. My mother’s necklace, I needed it found so I can sell it. It is my last…” She shook her head. “I have nowhere to go. I heard about you. I thought, well, it would be an easy thing to get close to you, and if I did not succumb to your charms, you would fall in love with me and marry me. You know, like in the novels. And then I would be saved.”
“Why drug me?”
“I could think of no other way to ensure…that is, well, as I said, I am not a harlot, sir.”
Graham released a warm, soft shoulder to scrub at the tension in his forehead. He didn’t know if he believed her tale, or if she held back more than she revealed. He did know he couldn’t spring Davina and Margarette alone. Not without bloodshed. He also didn’t have anyone he could trust. Not a single member of the staff. Certainly not Matland.
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