A Lord's Kiss

by Mary Lancaster et al.

  Strong fingers seized her arm and swung her around.

  Alison came face to face with a large, dark haired man and shrieked, “Get your hands off me.”

  A lecherous laughed rumbled from his chest as his grip tightened. “Dinnae worry. You’ll get used to having hands on you.” He started to drag her away from the house.

  “Release me.” She yanked hard, but he jerked her against his massive chest.

  “Listen, you little bitch, you dinnae have to be conscious to be transported. The carriage is waiting.”

  “Transported?” she said. “What do you mean? Who are you? Do you know who I am?”

  “Enough,” he growled.

  Alison drew a breath to scream. He clamped a large hand over her mouth and lifted her feet from the ground. She clawed at the hand over her mouth as he strode away from the house. She kicked. Her heel contacted his shin. He cursed, then tightened his hold around her waist. She gasped for breath.

  “Another peep and I will drive my fist into your belly,” he snapped

  What was happening? Had this been a trap?

  Her kidnapper continued through a small grove. Alison’s heart thumped. Might she escape in the murk of the trees? His arm formed a vice around her waist. She scanned the trees. If she could grab a small branch, could she break it off and hit him with it before he knocked her unconscious?

  They broke from the trees and, in the distance, next to two small cottages, two nondescript carriages waited. No crest on the doors, no identifying marks, at all. Could she bribe this man or one of his companions?

  They reached the nearest carriage. He yanked open the door and tossed her inside. Alison landed on the seat and bounced, then caught herself before she tumbled face first onto the floor. Three young girls occupied the seat across from her and a fourth girl sat to her right. Alison reached for the door handle, but found none. She groped the wall.

  “There are no handles,” the woman to her right said.

  Alison twisted in her seat and looked at the girl who had spoken. The carriage lurched into a slow roll. The low burning candle to the right lit the girl’s face. Young, but not as young as Alison first thought.

  “I thought they only wanted blondes,” another girl said.

  Alison looked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  One blonde girl elbowed the speaker in her side. Her furrowed brows said what no words did: be silent. Alison studied the girls across from her, then glanced at the girl to her right. They appeared amazingly calm for women who had just been kidnapped. The girls across from her glanced at one another as if sharing an unspoken thought.

  The girl beside Alison locked gazes with her and said, “How did you come to be here?”

  Alison hesitated. Something about the women bothered her. Did she admit the truth? “I was brought here just as you were,” she replied.

  The woman nodded and whispered, “Lord Weston didn’t tell us you were to be here.”

  Alison’s stomach clenched and her heart stammered, but she said in a calm voice, “Aye.”

  The blonde’s gaze sharpened, and she said, “Say no more.”

  Alison nodded and turned her attention to the window. She thought being discovered in Lord Weston’s bedchamber was bad. This was worse.

  Chapter Eight

  Cameron sipped his brandy, then balanced the glass on his abdomen and dropped his head back onto the pillow. The liquor reached his belly and warmth began to spread through him. This had been one of the longest days of his life, and it wasn’t over yet. James wouldn’t return for at least another two hours. Cameron had left a footman at the door to await his return. A short rest would refresh his mind. He would need the respite, for in a few hours, he would face Lady Alison, his future wife—and he had no doubt she would be his wife. Tomorrow, she would write a letter to her intended, explaining the scandal and her engagement. Robert Thomson would send a cold reply with instructions never to contact him again.

  He almost felt sorry for Lady Alison. Almost. Her ridiculous plotting had gotten her into this mess and dragged him in with her. However, better Lady Alison than Miss Erin Lennox. Oddly, he had to admit, he wasn’t as discomfited with the idea of marriage to Alison as he would have expected. He chuckled and finished the brandy. Getting caught in his bedchambers wasn’t what she had planned, and marrying him, well, that was out of the question.

  He smiled at the memory of her response to his question.

  “Are you a good woman, my lady?”

  “Better than you deserve,” she’d replied.

  She’d called him arrogant. She held her ground with her cousin, Henry Hamilton. That relationship was far more dangerous than she understood. Cameron recognized the desperation in the man’s manner. He was in trouble—from gambling, in all likelihood. Cameron would find out. He rose, crossed to the tray where sat the decanter of brandy and refilled his glass. By the time he’d returned to his bed, he’d drunk half the glass, and when he lay back on the mattress, he recalled that a beautiful woman occupied a room in the west wing—only two minutes away.

  He contemplated her soft curves and fiery temper. There were worse situations than having a lady and a vixen as a wife. What might she think if she knew his thoughts? He laughed. She would cut off his bollocks. When he’d stolen a kiss, he’d tasted the passion simmering within. Though that passion, no doubt, was fueled by her mounting anger.

  Cameron finished the remainder of his brandy and considered getting up for another. He glanced at the mantle clock. He might as well get up. He was wound too tight. This was their chance to nail Napier for his crimes. Napier’s money had solidified his standing in the community, made him untouchable. But greed had a way of revealing a person’s true character. Napier’s reign of terror was going to end soon.

  Cameron rose and headed downstairs to his study. He passed the parlor, then took a step back when he glimpsed Mrs. Cummings pacing in front of the windows.

  “Mrs. Cummings?”

  “My Lord.” She wrung her hands.

  “What is wrong?” If Mrs. Cummings was worried, Alison was up to something. “Where is she?”

  “I am not sure.” Her brows pulled into a worried frown. “She was restless. I’m sure you can understand why. I thought she needed to be alone. But she is not in her room.”

  “There are plenty of rooms within this house for her to seek privacy.”

  The housekeeper nodded. “I know. I searched them all. Except yours, of course,” she quickly added. “I, well, I had hoped she was with you.”

  “I assure you, she is not in my room.” Else he would still be in bed with her legs wrapped around his waist. “When did you last see her?”

  “We supped together, then I retired and left her sitting in the window seat of her room.”

  Overlooking the street and his meeting with James.

  “You remain here, Mrs. Cummings,” he said. “If she returns, I order you to lock her in her room.”

  The housekeeper frowned. “You know where she is?”

  “Pray I am wrong.” He left her and called for his footman as he strode down the hall.

  The young man appeared in the study as Cameron yanked open his father’s desk drawer and pulled out the loaded pistol he kept there.

  “You called, sir?” the lad asked.

  “Have my horse saddled immediately. If James returns, tell him I have gone to Napier’s.”

  The lad hurried away, and Cameron couldn’t help but note that never in all his life at Welbourne had he made so frequent a use of the small stable where they kept a horse for emergencies as he had these last few days.

  Half an hour later, Cameron reached Napier’s mansion. He dismounted next to James’s coach and tossed the reins to the driver. He hurried up the half dozen steps and pounded with the knocker. A moment later, a large man opened the door.

  Cameron pushed past him. “Where is Napier?”

  “I will tell him you are here,” the man said.

  “His study, I ass
ume?” Cameron crossed the larger foyer to the sweeping circular stairs.

  “Sir,” the man called.

  Cameron ignored him and took the steps two at a time, heart pounding. He’d half feared that Napier would use Alison as a weapon once he discovered the truth of her identify. He prayed that hadn’t happened. Cameron reached the study with the man close behind. Napier sat on a divan with James and both men looked up at him.

  A mocking smile curved Napier’s mouth. “Hunter, we weren’t expecting you.”

  “I tried to stop him,” the man said.

  “Never mind,” Napier said. “I am always pleased to see Lord Weston.”

  Cameron noted the hulking man who stood near the wall behind the divan, but started toward Napier. “I believe you have something of mine.”

  Napier rose. “Would you like a brandy?”

  “Where is she?” Cameron stopped two feet from him.

  Napier crossed to a sideboard where sat several decanters and glasses. “She? Do you refer to a specific one of the blonde lovelies McIntyre delivered? They are already en route to my customer.” He poured himself a brandy.

  “Did you wish to handle this matter yourself, Hunter?” James asked.

  A knot formed in Cameron’s gut. Where was Alison? “Just blondes?” he demanded.

  Napier turned, brandy glass in hand, and regarded him. “As agreed. When can I expect the remaining women? As you know, my client is entertaining guests.”

  Cameron shifted his gaze to James.

  With the slightest motion, James cocked his head to the side as if to ask what was wrong. “I explained we would need three more days for the next shipment.”

  Cameron nodded. “We do not want to rouse suspicion. As you saw, the women, while low born, are not gutter rats.” He pinned the man with a hard stare. “As discussed, we expect to be better compensated with the next six women.”

  Napier angled his head in acknowledgement. “I will discuss the matter with my partner."

  Partner? Napier’s pride wouldn’t let him admit he had a superior.

  Cameron kept his expression neutral. “Good. We would stay, but I need James on another matter.” Cameron extended his hand toward Napier.

  Napier accepted the handshake, but his eyes narrowed on Cameron. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

  Cameron released his hand. Did Napier’s words contain a veiled threat? Did the man have Alison and not even James knew? If Alison wasn’t here, where the hell was she? Fury coiled in his gut.

  “So long as you understand, I would take it personally if certain young ladies were to disappear.”

  A heavy moment hung in the air, then Napier said, “Hunter, if you had a sister and I wanted her, I would have her.”

  “Touch what is mine and I will kill you.” Hairs prickled on the back of Cameron’s neck.

  James stepped between them. “Let us not end this meeting with a challenge.”

  A small smile turned Napier’s lips. “Agreed.”

  His tone was amiable, but Cameron knew better. One wrong move, and the man would order them shot, then have the bodies buried where no one would find them. Cameron had suspicions he’d done that before and not been caught. Cameron turned on his heels and headed for the door. He prayed he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion and Alison was elsewhere.

  After they reached the carriage, James asked, “What is going on?”

  “Bob,” Cameron addressed the driver, “please tie my horse to the rear of the carriage.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, he opened the door and climbed inside.

  James stepped in behind him and closed the door as he dropped onto the seat opposite him.

  “I thought Lady Alison was here,” Cameron said.

  “Here? Good God, why? She should be warming your bed.”

  Cameron grunted. “That may not happen even after the marriage. I thought she had witnessed our earlier meeting. The wench has a penchant for putting her nose where it doesn’t belong. Should she discover our plans, not even a royal edict will keep her out of it.”

  “Sounds like the perfect match for you.”

  Cameron growled, “She is far too stubborn, too opinionated and too beautiful.”

  James snorted. “Too beautiful?”

  “Yes, she draws too much attention. As you know, I make it a point to blend in.” But more than that, she made him weak in the head, unsure of his decisions. She muddled his sharp thoughts with fantasies of her trim waist and full breasts.

  “Cameron?”

  The carriage jerked into motion and he jarred from his thoughts. For the first time in his adult life, Cameron was at a loss. How should he proceed? Then he knew.

  “She is likely at the home of her cousin, Miss Lennox,” he murmured. Of course, where else would she go? If she returned to her own home, he would whip her. “When we reach town, we will part ways. I will fetch her from Lennox’s home.”

  The carriage slowed, then turned left from the drive onto the road, and Cameron scanned the dark countryside for the man he knew was hiding, waiting for Napier to leave to meet his partner.

  “You won’t see him,” James said.

  Cameron nodded. “Good.” He returned his attention to James. “I assume the women got off safely?”

  In the thin moonlight that streamed in through the windows, Cameron discerned James’s mouth thin before he said, “As safely as they can while in the hands of Napier’s brutes.”

  “Miles and Will are looking after them.”

  “I still don’t like using women to catch this slaver,” James muttered. “I should have followed the coach.”

  “We must stay here. You may count on Napier having us followed. If we are not accounted for at any time, the suspicious bastard will cut all ties to us. Plus, lest you forget, each woman carries a pistol.”

  James shook his head. “Women shouldn’t be put in a position to defend themselves with guns.”

  “I think Sallie would disagree.”

  His friend nodded. “None of this will bring her sister back.”

  “Aye, but she is willing to try in order to save other girls.”

  “Not at the cost of her own life, I pray.”

  “Again, remember, Will and Miles are following the carriage,” Cameron said. “Once they reach their destination, our men will free the women, and the constable will be brought in to make the arrests. I wish I knew where they were headed.”

  “You will be pleased to learn that Napier agreed to my suggestion that the carriage stop at the brothel in Dingwall.

  Cameron looked at him in surprise. You suggested the brothel? But how could you know the carriage was headed in that direction?”

  “Napier isn’t as clever as he thinks. I gleaned that the women had to reach their destination by tomorrow evening. A few well-chosen questions to the stable boy led me to believe that he was headed northeast. Dingwall would be a perfect place to stop and change horses. Napier even allowed me to send a man ahead to make the arrangements.”

  Cameron shook his head. “James, I do believe you would make a good criminal.”

  James grimaced, then his expression sobered. “Getting Napier to agree to the stop was not difficult. I am far more concerned about what will happen to the women once they reach their destination. Do you really believe the constable will care that half a dozen low born women were kidnapped in order to slake the needs of rich noblemen?”

  Cameron gave a slow nod. “We swore that we would make them care.”

  City lights came into view and they fell silent until they finally reached town.

  Cameron pounded on the roof of the carriage. “This is where we part ways, my friend.”

  Bob pulled the carriage to the side of the road and stopped.

  Cameron opened the door and jumped to the ground. He faced James. “Try to get a little sleep. I wager tomorrow will be a busy day.”

  James nodded and Cameron closed the door, then strode to the back of the carriage. He grabbed his horse’s r
eins and began to untie them from the carriage, then halted at sight of a scrap of fabric caught on the left wheel. Bending over, he yanked the material free. His blood chilled. He recognized that damn light blue cotton.

  “James.” He crushed the fabric in his fist.

  James stuck his head out the carriage window. “What is it?”

  “She was here. By all that is holy, why does that woman insist on getting herself into situations?” This time, it wasn’t her reputation at stake, but her very life.

  James threw open the door and vaulted from the vehicle. He reached Cameron an instant later. Cameron unfisted his hand to reveal the fabric.

  James lifted his head, brow furrowed. “Where did that come from?”

  “The wheel.” Cameron nodded toward the wheel to his left. “It was caught on the spokes near the hub.”

  James blinked. “Are you saying she rode on the back of my carriage all the way from your home?”

  Cameron nodded. He stared at the fabric. Unlike the four women they’d sent away as prisoners of John Napier, Lady Alison Clarenton was completely unequipped to deal with criminals. Not to mention, Sallie would have no idea who the brunette was who had unexpectedly joined their ranks.

  “Don’t let your imagination run wild,” James’s voice cut into his thoughts. “We have no proof they took her. The women were taken to a cottage on the far side of Napier’s estate. Lady Alison wouldn’t have wondered that far away.”

  “Not wandered. She would investigate.” He swore. “You know full well that if one of Napier’s men caught her, Napier would consign her to hell before releasing her.”

  “You said you believed she was eavesdropping on us. Perhaps she was standing behind the coach and tore her dress. Come now,” he added when Cameron started to reply, “how likely is it that a woman could have the strength to hold onto the carriage for such a long drive?”

  “She might have fallen off along the way,” Cameron blurted.

  “Christ, Cameron. It is far more likely my first theory is correct; she hid behind the carriage and her dress caught on the wheel.”

  “It would be like her to simply walk to her cousin’s from there,” Cameron said.