by Hope Tarr
“Nay, I dinna suppose I am. Now what do you say to handing me my shirt so we can go see what Lord Aberdaire wants with us?”
“We, Master?” Luicas’s head shot up, his whole face brightening though his hazel eyes looked almost afraid to believe.
Jack nodded and, despite all the demons he’d faced over the past week and those he’d yet to confront, he managed a small smile. “Aye, Luicas, we.”
Less than an hour later Jack stood regarding Lord Aberdaire from across the expanse of his study floor, Luicas and Elf flanking his sides. “You wished to see me, milord, and here I am though not in a wooden box as you’d prefer, I’m sure.”
Aberdaire blanched. “I’ve reason to believe your brother has abducted Claudia. I received a ransom demand from him, albeit penned in her hand.” His silver-blue gaze narrowed and he added, “But you seem surprised, Master Campbell. Surely this is not news?”
Surprised! Jack felt as if he were back in the tollbooth cell with a half dozen fists pummeling his chest. Finding his voice, he asked, “When?”
“We believe her to have been taken yesterday afternoon. Haversham—” For the first time the earl nodded toward the bloated dandy clipping his fingernails on the divan nearby, “—took her on a shopping expedition in town and managed to mislay her somewhere along the High Street.”
Thinking, Jack raked a hand through his hair, which he hadn’t taken the time to tie back. Christ, but that must have been just after she’d left his room at the Hawk and Dove. He’d been a bloody fool to let her leave him at all, but then to permit her to strike out on her own was nothing short of lunacy. If Callum harmed her, he’d never forgive himself. He might just possibly lose his mind…after he killed his brother.
“What fustian!” Lord Haversham exclaimed, setting aside the little silver nail clippers he’d been wielding to glare at the room at large. “As if it’s my fault the little hoyden gave me the slip.”
So this Sassenach fop with the elaborate wig and puce coat was Claudia’s betrothed. Barely gracing the man with a glance, Jack shifted his gaze back to the earl and said, “You said there is a ransom note. I’d like to see it.”
Aberdaire reached into his coat pocket then hesitated before handing over the ragged scrap of paper. “You can read?” he asked, not bothering to conceal his surprise.
Minded that little more than two months before, a certain French lassie had evidenced a similar degree of astonishment at that fact, Jack tamped down his rising irritation and stepped forward to accept the folded foolscap. The crumpled paper bore the faintest trace of Claudia’s light rose scent, and Jack had to resist the urge to clasp it to his breast. Instead he concentrated on the few terse, inelegant lines, clearly dictated by Callum. He trained his gaze back on the earl, and let his fury fly.
“Jesus, man, why in God’s name did you no send for me when this first came?” he demanded, anger sparking at the thought that he might have spent the night out searching instead of pacing the four corners of his narrow room.
Aberdaire hesitated, then admitted, “The possibility had occurred to me that though you and McBride pretend to hate each other, you might in fact be in league.” Ignoring Jack’s oath, he went on, “What better reason for him to insist that only you deliver the ransom? Another possible scenario is that Claudia is not in fact kidnapped but is in hiding. One thousand pounds would be a handsome start to setting up a household, would it not? She did pen the letter.”
Jaw clenched, Jack ground out, “Did it ne’er occur to you in all your grand scheming that Callum canna read nor write?”
Luicas had kept his peace up to now, but Jack had marked how his face became redder and his eyes narrower with each implied accusation. Reaching the point of combustion, he stomped up to the earl, hands fisted at his sides. “Aye, and a lot ye ken, ye wicked auld mumper. Callum burnt Jack’s cottage and murdered his hawk. And ’twas Callum who fixed it so that Claudia would be hangit for trying tae escape.”
Jack laid a hand on his young champion’s shoulder. “Wheesht, Luicas, that will do.” To the earl he said, “Have you received a second note, anything to point to their still being in the area?”
Across the room the earl had gone quite pale. “No, I havna.” He swallowed and it suddenly occurred to Jack that he didn’t look well. “What do you mean to do?”
Halfway to the door, Jack cast Aberdaire a backward glance. “I mean to find them, of course, and bring her back.”
Inside the abandoned cottage Jack and Luicas found MacDuff’s stiffened body, his blood and brains caking the dusty floorboards. They also found one of the amethyst-set combs he’d given Claudia that Christmas, several glossy black strands still woven through the teeth.
Swallowing the lump that rose to block his throat, Jack called over his dog and held out the comb. “Get a good whiff, Elf. Claudia is somewhere nearby, and we’ve to find her and soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was nearing dusk when Callum finally called for them to stop and make camp in one of the caves edging the western edge of Lord Aberdaire’s property. All day Claudia had dragged her feet as much as she’d dared, leaving behind a little trail of her personal items as her hobbled hands would allow. A mile or so back, she’d even sacrificed the last of the hair combs Jack had given her; the first she’d left in the cottage not far from MacDuff’s corpse. The sight of those staring opaque eyes would haunt her for some time, she knew.
But now Callum had stepped outside to relieve himself, affording Claudia her first opportunity to speak to Wallis alone. Determined to make good use of it, she looked up from the rock she perched upon and said in a low voice, “He is lying, you know. Whatever ransom money he gets for me, he does not plan to share it with you.”
Rage washed over Wallis’s face. “Shut up,” he hissed, his gaze darting to the rock-hewn opening leading to the outside. “Ye’re only saying that tae get me t’ untie ye.”
Encouraged by the warble of doubt in his voice, she pressed on. “Once your usefulness has ended, he will kill you. If you do not believe me, only think how quick he was to shoot the butler.” Despite the small fire that crackled at her feet, she shivered, for, like Wallis, her own usefulness would soon come to an end.
“That was different,” Wallis said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “That was the enemy.”
Claudia opened her mouth to reply that, to Callum, everyone was the enemy when the subject of their conversation appeared at the cave entrance.
Scowling at Claudia, he slammed his lantern down upon the flattened bed of rain-washed rock and came forward. “If you werena sae slow, we would ha’ made it tae Linlithgow ere now.”
Hoisting her chin, she asked, “If I am so slow, why do you keep me with you? You could tie me to any tree by the roadside. By the time someone found me, you and Wallis would be long gone.”
“But then I’d no have anyone tae write my wee letters for me, now would I? Aye,” he said, in response to her silent question. “I mean tae send another only this time we’ll see it delivered direct tae Jacko as your dear da canna be trusted tae follow orders.”
He picked up the satchel that MacDuff had delivered and began rooting through. Emptied of the straw, it now contained a few items including several more sheets of foolscap and writing implements he’d lifted from a schoolhouse earlier that day.
“You will have to untie my hands then, will you not?”
He grunted to Wallis, who stepped behind her to cut through the rope. “Try anything and it’ll go hard with ye,” Callum warned, then laid out the inkpot and quill and paper before her.
Pain ripped forth from wrists to shoulders. Stretching her arms out in front of her, she took pleasure in the movement nonetheless. Dipping pen in ink, she balanced a sheet of the paper on her lap and waited for him to begin.
Squatting down beside her, he began to dictate. “Dear Brother Jack…Nay, better yet, make that Jacko.”
Claudia scratched out the previous line and began anew. As she di
d, her mind raced to come up with what message of hers she might include, some hidden clue as to their whereabouts. If Callum could not read, then perhaps he would not notice that the note was longer than need be?
A faint trilling sound from outside the cavern had Callum breaking off in mid-sentence. He jerked his head to Wallis, who was busying himself with laying out his bedroll. “Go outside and see what that was.”
Wallis looked up from the plaid and shrugged. “Och, it’s no but a wee bird.”
“’Tis winter, idjut!” Glinting gaze alighting on Claudia, in a milder tone he said, “I’ll bear the wench company whilst ye’re gone.”
Wallis hesitated and then, grumbling, picked up his lantern and stomped out.
Callum seemed to have lost interest in the letter. Reaching out, he swept the paper aside with the flat of his arm, smearing ink on his sleeve. “The writing can wait. This canna.” A hard hand at the back of her head, he brought his mouth down on hers.
Claudia turned her face away and his sticky lips met her cheek instead. Lifting her freed hand, she wiped away the wetness.
Angry eyes blazed into hers. “Och, but you’re a hoity-toity one, as winsome as ye are wild. But, faith, I think, like any spirited mare, ye want for breaking.”
Claudia saw the bulge crowning his crotch, and fear frissoned through her. Bravado had served her once before in Paris when it had been her only weapon against the angry mob. Praying that raw nerve would serve her again, she stared down her tormenter. “Do with me what you will, Monsieur McBride, only know this—Jack had me first. He has me still, if not my body then my soul. And there is nothing you can do to me, to either of us, that can sever that bond.”
Callum’s mouth twisted in a sneer. Gaze sliding over her, he said, “Verra touching but, truth be told, I’m no all that interested in your soul.”
Behind her tormenter’s shoulder Claudia caught a flicker of movement at the cave’s entrance. Wallis patrolling the area outside?
Shifting her gaze back to Callum, she said, “You would not be, but then, you are not fit to wipe Jack’s boots, let alone to call him brother. He is the better man and everyone knows it.”
Glancing down, she saw that her goading had struck its mark. The bulge at Callum’s crotch had disappeared. Inside his trousers his penis would be as soft as a water-logged biscuit.
Following her gaze, his face flushed. “Shut up, ye wee bitch.” He hauled back and backhanded her.
Cheek stinging, she blinked watery eyes. “Only a coward strikes a woman and you, monsieur, are a coward most pathetic.”
Eyes still tearing from the blow, she glimpsed a broad silhouette shifting in the shadows. Wallis again? But no, it could not be. Blocking the starlit sky, he stood too tall, too straight and too proud to be anyone other than Jack. He lifted a hand to his lips, warning her to silence and, heart swelling, she answered with an infinitesimal nod.
Voice raised to cover her rescuer’s approach, she went on, “Your mother knew that Jack was worth a hundred of you—in your heart you know it, too. Yes, I think that is why you hate him so, because in your heart, you know it, too.”
“Shut up, shut up I say.” Callum hauled back to strike her again, this time with his fist.
Issuing forth a primal roar, Jack launched himself forward. He grabbed his brother and in one fluid motion sent him careening toward the far rock wall. Callum smashed into the stones but almost at once he was on his feet again, apparently impervious to the blood streaming his brow. Eyes wild, he flew at Jack, the force carrying both of them to the ground. Jack took the brunt of the impact, his big body hit the cave floor with a heavy thud and Callum sprawled atop and raining punishing blows on his face.
But Jack was a big man, a strong man. He quickly recovered and rolled, trapping Callum beneath him. Heart hammering, Claudia stooped and made use of her unbound hands to snatch up the dagger that had slipped from Callum’s belt. The hilt clasped in her sweaty palm, she looked on, helpless, as the two brothers fought their way across the earthen floor.
“Give it up, Callum.” Jack reared back and smashed a fist into the slighter man’s jaw.
“Ne’er!”
They’d come perilously close to the fire. Now Callum reached out toward the small stones encircling it, and his clawing fingers closed about a small but lethally sharp bit of rock.
Seeing that he meant to smash the pointed edge into Jack’s skull, Claudia screamed, “Jack, his hand. Look out!”
Jack captured his opponent’s wrist and torqued it, drawing Callum’s scream. “Give it up,” he rasped, releasing the bone-wrenching pressure a fraction.
Sweat plastered Callum’s hair to his forehead and his eyes glazed over, but he shook his head. “Nay, ne’er. Ne’er, ye bluidy Sassenach bastard. I’ll die before I let ye live.”
“Suit yourself.” Jack slammed Callum’s captured arm to the ground.
“Ahhhhh…”
With a final bone crunching twist, the makeshift weapon fell free, and Callum’s damaged hand dangled from his wrist like a broken tree limb. A second later, Jack felt Callum go limp beneath him. Looking down, he saw that Callum’s body if not his will had surrendered. Eyes closed in his pale, sweating face, he appeared to have fainted.
Breathing ragged, Jack pulled himself onto his hands and knees. Claudia flew to his side. Leaning heavily on her, he gained his feet.
“Are you all right, mo chride?” he asked, all concern as though she and not he had been engaged in a fight to the death.
“Yes, yes I think so.”
She scanned his face. Fresh cuts and bruises marred his high brow and there was a bloody gash cutting across one cheek but otherwise he appeared to have escaped serious injury.
“Oh, Jack,” she said, and then pressed her head into the curve of his damp shoulder. Standing thus, she was just about to surrender to relief, when all at once she remembered. “Wallis,” she said, pulling out of his embrace to look up into his dear bruised face. “Callum sent him outside but surely he will be back.”
“Nay worries,” he said, touching a finger to her lips. “He’ll no be bothering us.” Grinning, he explained, “He took a wee tumble, mind, and his head met with the rock in Luicas’s hand. Luicas and Elf are minding him even now.”
“Then I guess I’ll have tae finish this myself.”
They whirled to see Callum leaning against the wall, his injured armed tucked against his chest. In his left hand he held the small pearl-handled pistol—Jack’s mother’s.
Jack moved to shield Claudia. “Dinna be a fool, Callum. Ye’re right-handed, no left, and if ye fire inside and miss, the bullet may just as likely ricochet and strike you.”
Callum cocked the pistol’s hammer. “Only if I miss. And, mo bràthair, I dinna mean tae miss. The one thing I’ve yet tae decide is which one o’ ye shall die first.” After a moment’s pause he shifted the weapon to Claudia, and Jack felt his bowels turn to jelly. “Her first, I think, so I can have the pleasure of watchin’ your face when she drops dead at your feet.” His thumb moved to the trigger and, sending up a silent prayer, Jack prepared to lunge.
A shower of stones sprayed inside the cave. Callum started, whipping his head about. His distraction lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Jack dove, knocking Callum to the ground. The two men fought for control of the weapon. The pistol fired, filling the narrow channel with acrid black powder smoke.
Blinded and choking, Claudia went down on her knees and crawled forward, feeling her way. Her eyes burning and feeling as though they’d been doused with lye, she could just make out a prone form on the cave floor ahead. Please, God. Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please. “Jack, my love…Oh, Jack.”
Silence and then, through a fit of coughing, “C-Claudia?”
If Claudia hadn’t already been on her knees, relief and thankfulness would have brought her to them. “Jack?”
Strong arms, Jack’s arms, encircled her, lifting her to her feet, guiding her through the charred air a
nd out into the bracing freshness.
“Oh, Jack. Y-you are not…you are not dead?”
“Och, but you’ll no get rid of me that easily.”
Eyes filling with grateful tears, she slid both her arms about his waist.
Luicas, with Elf, ran up to them. “Master, mistress, are ye…Is he…”
“We’re fine, lad. And aye, Callum’s dead…as we would be if ye hadna thought to send those wee stones sailing inside. Callum must have thought it meant a cave in.” Jack released Claudia to clap a hand to the boy’s shoulder. “You did well, lad. I—” he glanced at Claudia, “—we owe you our lives.”
Expression bashful, Luicas started to demur, but Claudia would have none of it. “It is true. You are a hero, Luicas.”
“Aye, he is,” Jack agreed, “and when he returns to Selkirk and to the village, it will be to a hero’s welcome.”
But first there was the matter of tending to the dead. They bore Callum from the cave and laid him to rest on the crest of the crag overlooking the peaceful pastureland below. The ground was frozen and even if it had not been they had no shovel. Luicas and Jack gathered stones and small builders to pile atop the body while Claudia held the lantern and stroked Elf’s head. Afterward Jack fashioned a makeshift wooden cross from two sticks and a length of Claudia’s hair ribbon and then, head bowed, said a few spare words to express the hope that Callum’s tormented soul might finally know the peace that had eluded him in life.
Wallis, it seemed, had disappeared altogether. Footsteps leading away from the spot where Luicas had left him suggested he must have come to and made off on foot. By collective consent, they agreed there was nothing to be gained by giving chase.
During the construction of the burial cairn, it had begun to drizzle. By the time they laid the final stone, the rain had turned to snow, the moon was riding full in the sky, and the air raw as a fresh wound. Rather than ride into Linlithgow, they returned to the cave to shelter for the night. Almost immediately Luicas and Elf subsided into exhausted heaps but for Jack and Claudia this night, the first night of the rest of their lives, was too precious to waste on sleep. Backs braced against the stones, they sat in each other’s arms before the fire.