A Lord's Kiss

by Mary Lancaster et al.

  James nodded. “Exactly.”

  Still… Cameron fitted his booted foot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle.

  “You are going to Dingwall, I take it?” James said.

  “I will arrive about the time the coach arrives,” Cameron said. “Once I have established that she isn’t there, I can return to Inverness in an hour and a half.”

  “If you ride like the devil,” James said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Shall I come with you?” James asked.

  Cameron shook his head. “Go to her cousin’s home, Lennox’s place. That is likely where she is. For me to check there and Welbourne would take at least another hour. I would rather ride to Dingwall and find she isn’t there, then take the extra hour only to discover she is there. Whichever is the case, I will blister her pretty backside.”

  Chapter Nine

  Erin swiped at the tear that escaped her resolve and slid down her cheek. She pushed to her feet and turned from the bay window. Had Lord Weston truly thrown Alison over his shoulder and kidnapped her from her own house? How had Alison succeeded where she had failed? Fear tightened her insides. Once her father heard the news, he would be furious. She simply didn’t understand why he was so set on her marrying Lord Weston. There were other noblemen, some wealthier and more well-connected than the viscount. It would be wiser to make herself available to those men. Why Viscount Weston?

  She recalled the man who has visited her father the other night. Tall, chestnut hair, with one rakish curl that looked as if it had carelessly fallen across his forehead. Genteel—nobility, no doubt—and quite rich, if the cut of his coat were any indication. Not to mention, dangerous. Not a man she would choose for herself, but the sort of man she might expect her father to choose for her. His fixation on Lord Weston bordered on obsessive.

  What did her desires matter? She was completely at her father’s mercy. He would force her to marry whomever he chose. Lord Weston wouldn’t have been a bad choice. He was rigid, but not unkind. Might she still try to ensnare him, even after he kidnapped his bride-to-be from her own home? Erin fisted her hands at her sides. Of all the people in the world, she would never have believed Alison would betray her. All that talk about her beloved Robert, yet she swooped in on Lord Weston the instant the opportunity presented itself.

  Erin choked back a sob. Lord Weston might not have wanted her, but she would have been a good wife. She would have made him love her. Even if he’d banished her to the country, that life would have been superior to living under her father’s roof. But Alison ruined it all. When her father discovered the truth…

  Erin began to pace. There had to be a way to salvage the plan. Alison had stolen the note, then locked Erin in her closet. It was simply too much to bear. Her best friend had gone behind her back and stolen the man she intended to marry.

  Erin halted. Turnabout was fair play.

  Fifteen minutes later, Erin clasped her cloak as she quietly hurried down the stairs. By tomorrow morning, all of Inverness would be talking about her. Most importantly, her father would finally be pleased with her.

  Half a flight down the stairs, a knock on the front door brought her to a stop. Who would be visiting at half past midnight? She dropped to a crouch and watched as her father strode into view. He continued out of sight. An instant later, the door creaked open and a male voice said, “Lennox.”

  She knew that voice. The man she had encountered leaving her father’s study the other night. The door clicked shut.

  “Taylor,” her father said, “you’re late.”

  “I had to be certain our merchandise shipped as planned,” the man said. “It seems Weston has done exactly as instructed. Perhaps we need not worry about his wedding plans, after all.”

  Wedding plans?

  They walked into view.

  “I do not trust him,” her father said. “He is honest by nature.”

  The man laughed as they passed from view. “You cannot say that about him after tonight.”

  Erin stared at the hallway where they had disappeared. Why would that man care about Lord Weston’s wedding? Wait, not the wedding—his marriage. But that made no sense, either. She recalled the man’s last visit. Hadn’t he said something about keeping Lord Weston in line? And something about them hanging if they were caught. Hanged?

  How could she have forgotten that?

  She hurried down the stairs to the foyer, then hesitated. Curiosity to learn more about the man’s business with her father burned hot. Dare she chance trying to eavesdrop? The other night when the gentleman had caught her outside her father’s study was a perfect example of how bad she was at eavesdropping. If her father caught her, she would never be able to leave, and her chance of getting Lord Weston to fall in love with her might pass.

  She turned toward the door, pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and slipped through the front door into the chill night air. She ignored the gooseflesh that arose on her arms. She would show all of them—her father, Alison, even Lord Weston. Like Alison, she was capable of taking action. Erin imagined the anger on Lord Weston’s face when he discovered her in his bed, but experienced no fear. No man’s fury could compare to her father’s. Alison would be livid to find that Erin had stolen him right out from under his nose.

  Eri reached the walkway and turned a sharp left. When she reached the main street, she would hail a cab. Pray God that she would find an unlocked door or window at the viscount’s home. A horrible thought occurred. Dear Lord, what if his father, the earl, were home? Only that afternoon, Alison had lunched with him. Erin slowed her walk. She had no wish to anger her future father-in-law. Her heart fell. Only two blocks from home and already her plan had begun to unravel. How could she possibly start life with her new husband if his father hated her?

  There had to be a way to make the viscount fall in love with her. If Alison hadn’t sabotaged her, kept the assignation with Lord Weston in her place, it would be her living in Lord Weston’s home—probably warming his bed. Erin halted. What if Alison was already warming the viscount’s bed? Alison had resources, security…was it necessary for her to take him and his title, as well? Movement to her right caught her attention and she became aware of the rattle of carriage wheels. She halted as a carriage came to a stop beside her. The carriage was no street hackney, but that of a well to do gentleman. Erin took a step back when the carriage door opened and a tall, well-dressed gentleman stepped to the ground.

  “Forgive me, ma’am, but Lord Weston has instructed me to return you to his home.”

  Erin blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “He is quite worried. Never fear, I will see you safely to Welbourne.”

  “To Welbourne?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “I feel certain his lordship would have agreed to let you see your cousin, had you asked. There was no need to sneak out. You gave him quite a scare.”

  Sneak out? Of Welbourne? Good Lord, he thought she was Alison. Her heart felt as if it dropped into her belly. Alison had sneaked out of Welbourne?

  She pinned the man with a stare. “If I frightened him, then where is he?”

  “Looking for you elsewhere, my lady.”

  This was the first bit of good luck to befall her. Erin’s pulse picked up speed. Surely, if he came home to find her in his bed, a willing woman, while Alison had run away, he would want her? What if he didn’t? Her reputation would be completely in shreds. No man of worth would want her and her father—

  She shivered.

  “You are cold, my lady,” the man said. “Please, let me take you home.”

  Erin looked at him. “Home?” She gave a mocking laugh.

  She couldn’t discern his eyes, but his voice softened when he said, “It isn’t as bad as all that, is it, my lady?”

  “You cannot know.” Suddenly, she wished mightily for her cousin and friend Alison, but that was not to be. She would never cease loving Alison, but she could not forgive her.

  “Come,” he said, and
stepped aside.

  She shook her head. “Thank you, but no.” Erin turned and started back toward home.

  He stepped in her path. “My lady, I must insist.”

  Erin snapped her head up. “Kindly step aside, sir.”

  He sighed and, in the next instant, scooped her into his arms. She screamed and punched his jaw. He grunted, then stepped into the carriage and dropped her onto the seat. She lunged for the open door, but he seized her arm and yanked her onto his lap as he reached for the door.

  “I beg your pardon.” She jumped off his hard thighs and scooted into the corner of the carriage.

  “Welbourne,” he called to the driver, then pulled the door closed.

  The carriage jerked into motion and started down the street.

  Erin glared. “Have you lost your mind? This is kidnapping.”

  “I beg to differ, my lady. I am simply doing as your future husband asks by delivering you safely back to his home.”

  “I do not live at Welbourne, you fool,” she snapped.

  “My lady, you do now.”

  Erin blew out a frustrated breath. “Good Lord, you have mistaken me for Alison. I am her cousin, Erin Lennox.”

  He lifted a brow. “Forgive me for saying so, my lady, but Miss Lennox is not the one known for galivanting out alone at night.”

  Erin stared. “Have you any idea what my father will do once he learns that you have taken me against my will?”

  “As he is in his grave, there is nothing he can do to me—or you, for that matter. However, if he were still with us, I wager he would not be pleased to learn his daughter was walking the streets at nearly one in the morning.”

  Fear stabbed. She grasped the handle as the carriage made a left turn. Once her father discovered her gone, he would blame her for any repercussions. Since her failed attempts to trap Lord Weston, his temper had grown increasingly dangerous. Now—

  “Lady Alison?”

  Erin jarred and the man’s face came back into focus.

  “Are you ill?”

  She noted the hard angles of his face and the small scar in the cleft of his chin. How could she have missed how handsome he was? Who was the man? Clearly, he knew Lord Weston, but he didn’t know Alison. Cousins they might be, but they shared little in the way of family resemblance.

  She had no idea why Alison had run away, but Erin need not throw away her reputation by awaiting him in his bed. Instead, when Lord Weston and Alison returned, there would be no harm if they found Erin waiting in the parlor. If he returned alone, however… Her heart beat faster. Was there truly a chance of salvaging her father’s plan for her marriage? Her father would be so pleased if she managed to pull it off.

  The carriage bounced as the wheels hit a rut.

  She gave the gentleman a haughty look. “Pray tell, who are you, sir?”

  Chagrin played across his handsome face. “Forgive me, ma’am. James McIntyre, at your service.” He angled his head in something of a bow.

  “Who are you to Lord Weston?”

  “A friend.”

  “I wonder what sort of friend would kidnap a woman,” she said in the most imperious tone she could muster.

  The hint of a smile tugged on his full mouth. “The sort that chases after errant wives-to-be. Really, eavesdropping from behind my carriage?”

  Behind his carriage? What had Alison been up to?

  She knew when to listen and made no other reply.

  Twenty minutes later, they stopped in front of Lord Weston’s mansion. Nervousness tumbled about her belly. What had she to worry about? Her reputation was safe. Well, as safe as it could be, considering she’d spent half an hour alone in a carriage with a handsome stranger. Erin sent up a prayer that her father never learned the truth of how she arrived at Welbourne.

  Mister McIntyre didn’t wait for the driver, but opened the door and stepped to the ground. He turned and extended a hand toward her. She placed her hand in his and dropped her eyes when his warm hand closed around hers. Heat bloomed in her chest. This kidnapper was a gentleman.

  Erin stepped to the ground, then turned and faced him. “I thank you, sir.” Without waiting for an answer, she started up the walkway.

  He laughed and she snapped her head up when he appeared at her side.

  “I believe you have done your duty,” she said.

  “Not quite.”

  They reached the door and he lifted the knocker three times. She had to get rid of him. A sleepy-eyed footman opened the door and Erin pushed past him. She whirled and got a mouthful of cravat. Erin leapt back as Mister McIntyre grabbed her shoulders.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She stared up at him, suddenly transfixed by his dark eyes.

  “Lady Alison?”

  The name broke the spell

  Erin stepped out of his hold. She had to get rid of him—fast.

  “Thank you, sir. Now, good night.”

  “Miss, is that you?” a woman said behind her.

  Erin groaned inwardly. She recognized that voice. Erin turned and faced Mrs. Cummings. “Hello, Mrs. Cummings. So nice to see you, again.” Erin looked at Mister McIntyre over her shoulder, and said, “Your services are no longer required, sir,” then faced the housekeeper again. “Shall we go into the parlor, Mrs. Cummings?”

  The housekeeper reached them and Erin linked her arm with the older woman. But Mrs. Cummings didn’t budge when Erin tried to start down the hallway. “What are you doing here, Miss Lennox? Have you any idea where Lady Alison is?” Before Erin could answer, Mrs. Cummings said to the gentleman, “Who are you?”

  “James McIntyre, ma’am, and it seems I have, indeed, kidnapped the wrong woman tonight.”

  Chapter Ten

  Alison tried to calm the churning in her stomach. They’d ridden without respite for at least four hours when the carriage finally stopped at an older, three-story brick house in a small, unknown town. She knew they had traveled northeast, but once they left the lights of Inverness, and with the twists and turns the driver had made along the way, she’d lost her orientation.

  The carriage listed to the right and, an instant later, the door jerked open. “Inside,” the man snapped.

  Sallie, Eva and Capri across from Alison exited first, then she followed. The other woman, Phoebe, came next. Alison slowed as Sallie passed her. Then Alison whirled and dashed around the back of the carriage and rammed into a solid wall of muscle. The man’s python-like arms banded around her.

  “Wrong way, lass.”

  “There has been a mistake. I do not belong here,” she said in her most haughty tone.

  He spun her around and pulled her up the walk and into the house. “Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.”

  They entered the house and Alison froze in the hallway. Smoke, along with the strong scent of perfume hung heavy in the air. Portraits of women in varying states of undress hung on the walls. Two women leaned over the banister of a staircase just ahead. They wore only stockings, corsets and silk robes that hung half off their shoulders. This couldn’t be— Was this a brothel? Alison’s heart thundered. She sidled closer to the girls she’d arrived with, too aware the large man who had herded them into the brothel now blocked the entrance behind them.

  “Keep moving,” another brute of a man ordered.

  With a hand to Alison’s back, he pushed her forward. Alison stumbled and fell against Phoebe.

  Phoebe maneuvered Alison in front of her. “You don’t have to be rough,” she told him.

  “I like it rough,” he said in a low tone.

  The girl raked her gaze down his body. “Men like you usually do.”

  “Phoebe,” another of the other girls warned.

  Phoebe’s defiance disappeared as her shoulders slumped and she cowered. “We are doing what you ask. Just don’t hurt us.”

  Alison stared at Phoebe. Her transformation from brazen to meek had been instantaneous. This girl wasn’t what she seemed.

  They c
ontinued forward, through a parlor where men lounged, some with women straddling their laps, or in some sort of embrace. Others had no female companionship. Many stared as Alison and the other women filed through into a smaller parlor.

  Had Lord Weston discovered her absence yet? It mattered not. No one could have the slightest idea where she’d gone. Still, the knowledge didn’t stop the childish hope that Lord Weston would somehow find her.

  Alison started when an older woman entered the room. Sudden fear dug sharp talons through Alison’s confidence.

  The older woman turned to one of the men and said something in a low voice Alison couldn’t hear.

  “You’ve been compensated very well for the night’s accommodations,” the man snapped.

  “You parade beautiful young women through my parlor and expect my gentlemen patrons to ignore what they have seen?”

  “Ain’t no gentleman here,” the man said.

  “I have a patron willing to pay a king’s ransom. Wants that one.” Sarah pointed at Alison.

  Alison’s blood went cold.

  “Boss said they ain’t to be touched,” the man growled.

  “Well, that one’s going to be touched. Your boss wants virgins; she’ll still be one in the way that counts.” The woman approached Alison.

  Alison willed her legs not to fold beneath her.

  “Make a scene and you won’t need to worry about your virginity,” the woman said.

  Alison’s heart hammered. She glanced at the other girls from the carriage. Cara gripped Sallie’s wrist and shook her head. In that moment, Alison wondered if Lord Weston would bother to save her even if he could.

  ***

  Erin forced back frustration and smiled politely as she and Mrs. Cummings sat on the couch near the hearth. Mister McIntyre occupied the chair nearest the housekeeper.

  Erin caught the slight narrowing of Mister McIntyre’s eye when he said, “Miss Lennox, I assume you have not seen Lady Alison this evening?”

  Erin smiled sweetly. “I have not seen Alison in four days.”

  Mrs. Cummings wrung her hands. “This is all my fault. I should have kept a closer eye on her. Oh, where could she have gone?” She looked at Mister McIntyre. “You have no idea where she might be, sir?”