Goraidh left the main room of the cabin, returning minutes later with breeches and shirtsleeves. Both men looked surprisingly pleased, as they had found clothing that would work well enough. As working men rarely wore short coats or fancy long pants and they could mingle with the crowd from then on easily.
Getting close to the manor house was easier than either man had anticipated. While there were armed guards scattered throughout the estate, the men were tired from the journey back and seemed to William to be quite at their leisure.
The guards lounged in their encampment, some asleep in the morning sun, others were busy at card games. It took almost no effort for William and Goraidh to move into the gardens and then up close to the house.
“Goraidh, perhaps ye should head back into the wood, and wait for me. It’ll be easier if I approach the lass alone.”
“Are ye sure that’s wise, William?” William noted the look of disappointment on his friend’s face. If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that Goraidh was looking for a fight.
“Aye, these men are no threat…” Suddenly a scream pierced through the air, coming from windows close to where both men were standing, causing Goraidh to grip the handle of his sword. The hair on William’s neck stood on end.
“No! I won’t go! Nooooooo!”
William’s stomach dropped as a feeling of horror overcame him. He knew at once it was Emma. He looked at Goraidh, sword drawn, and motioned for him to move toward the windows where the scream originated.
The gardens at Dawaerton House were elaborate in a labyrinth style. High hedges filled with rosebushes circled places with wooden benches and stone fountains, destined for private conversations. The multiple constructions provided the exact cover that William and Goraidh needed to move silently toward the open windows where Emma’s scream drew their attention.
Motioning silently for Goraidh to hide himself, William approached the windows, careful to keep himself low and out of sight should anyone move to the paned glass. He was able to hear Marston speaking to someone, perhaps a servant.
“Lock her in her bedchamber until she sees reason,” Marston’s loud voice said. William cursed under his breath. His suspicion of Thomas was right, the man did not give a damn about his own kin. He had seen it in the library and was seeing it now.
“Thomas, you cannot do this! You cannot! I will not go to an asylum!” Emma again, fighting back.
Asylum? Whatever for? Had something dire happened to Emma in the past fifteen or so hours? There was something dangerous happening in the Marston home and he needed to figure out how to get to Emma.
“You cannot, Thomas! Please!”
Her begging dug a dagger into William’s heart. His urge to protect her was overpowering any other need. Anger burned in him.
He had always known Thomas was a selfish bastard, but he would never think the man would wound his own sister in such a way. He fought the urge to burst through the window for her, knowing it would have him at a disadvantage, and not understanding what was happening, it would be a tactical mistake.
William’s original plan suddenly seemed less important than Emma and the issue at hand. Finley would have to keep until he could be sure Emma was safe. Why was her brother insisting on her imprisonment? What could have changed in the short time they had been back home?
Stay quiet, lass. I will find you. He repeated his thoughts as if in prayer, meaning each one. He would find her.
How could he be so cruel?
Emma thought hard about her brother’s action. There was not much she could do with Thomas nor was there any way she could dissuade Mrs. Briddle from following his orders. Frustrated tears were beginning to form but she refused to let them fall.
Could he be that certain that the MacNairs were behind the attack on their father, that Thomas would renege on the deal their father had made and refuse to let her marry William? Or was it truly as he said— that the marriage to the Frenchman was both a beneficial match for their own family, as well as for England? Surely an alliance between England and Scotland was better for the country than an alliance between England and France?
Either way, she had to get word to William. Instantly, she thought of the man Mrs. Briddle placed at her door. It was not possible for her to displace the guardsmen, but perhaps she could find another way. A thought occurred to her. Mary.
If she could get a message to William, she could perhaps get his help to get her out of the bedchamber, and together they could solve the mystery behind everything—her father’s murder, and her brother’s French connection. Mary was the key. Hopefully, the maid could be trusted.
She made her way to the door to the bedchamber. Knocking once, a gruff voice answered. “Yes, My Lady.”
“Good sir, will you please open the door so we may speak face-to-face?” She would have a much better chance of getting what she wanted if she could look her captor in the eyes.
“I don’t think that is wise, My Lady. Mrs. Briddle and His Lordship bade me stay here. No one in or out.”
“Of course, of course. I would not want to cause you trouble, sir. Perhaps you could open the door, just a sliver?” She heard his heavy sigh. Taking that to mean no, she was pleasantly surprised when the door did indeed open just a crack.
She looked into the unfamiliar green eyes of one of her brother’s lesser guards. She fought down her anger—she apparently did not even warrant one of the high-ranking men to guard her.
“How can I help, My Lady?”
“I am in need of my maid. Can you possibly have someone send her to me? I require assistance with my gown.”
The guard coughed uncomfortably with Emma’s mention of her personal needs. As upset as she was, Emma couldn’t help but smile. She was seen as property by first her father, and now her brother, yet she still had power as a woman to make men uncomfortable. It somehow made her feel slightly better.
“If I lock the door, I may be able to try and find a maid, miss, but I cannot promise and you’ll never be out of my sight, so no tryin’ anything, you hear?”
“Oh yes, yes, yes! You are a dear!” She gave her best, sweetest voice, smiling brightly at the man. He returned a shaky smile and closed the door.
Emma frantically looked around the bedchamber for anything she could write a message on. Silently she cursed herself for never desiring to keep a journal. There was nothing. She would have to give Mary the message and hope the girl could remember.
Emma paced the floor of her bedchamber. So many things could go wrong. What would she do if William never received her message? Would he do something foolish and get himself caught by her brother or his men?
A sound outside her window caught her attention. What was that?
She moved toward the window to see what it could have been. Her breath caught in her throat. Were her eyes deceiving her? Standing before her on the small French balcony of her bedchamber was William. Throwing the window open, she didn’t think as she leaped into his arms.
“Och, lass, are ye well?” He moved his hands up and down her arms and shoulders. She couldn’t find words, she simply nodded as he took her face into his large hands and lightly touched his lips to hers. “I heard ye scream and me heart nearly leaped out of me chest. I was so worried for ye. I would’ve been sooner, but we had a devil of a time findin’ yer chamber, and then…” he turned and looked at the shattered railing before continuing. “Well, let’s say it took some creativity to scale the wall.”
Emma pulled back to take all of him in. She could scarcely believe he was there, with her. Mere days ago, she would have never imagined her attachment to any man, especially not the brave, handsome Highlander who stood before her now.
He looked rough in a pair of too-tight breeches and a shirt with no closures or cravat. A flutter moved in her center as she tried to compose herself. There was too much at stake for flights of romantic fancy.
“I was…I was about to send you a message. My brother has me locked in this chamber.”<
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“Lass, yer brave indeed. How were ye plannin’ to escape? And can ye tell me what the devil is goin’ on?”
Emma moved to sit William down on the bed when suddenly the handle of the chamber door rattled. The surprise of seeing William caused her to forget the guard had left to find Mary, and now someone was entering the chamber. Sparing a quick look around the room, her gaze caught William’s. In his eyes, she read her own thoughts. They needed somewhere to hide.
“Quick, get down underneath the bedding,” she said lifting the heavy fabric that draped the edge of her bed. William looked at her as if she were indeed as daft as Thomas would have everyone believe.
“Och, lass, I’m much too big.” The door continued to rattle and was in the process of being unlocked.
“Hurry, William, you’ll have to squeeze. We have no other option.” She rushed to close the window, pulling the drapes closed to not only darken the room but to hide the damage on the balcony from William’s ascent.
Peering down, she saw William’s friend Goraidh below and motioned for him to hide as well. Of course, William brought reinforcement—he knew he would need the help.
Emma took two deep breaths, and with William as hidden as possible, she used her hands to smooth the wrinkles of her gown just as the door to her chamber opened, revealing not Mary as she expected, but rather a sour-faced Mrs. Briddle.
“Lady Emma, young Richard says you are in need of a lady’s maid?” she said, noting the sheepish look on the soldier’s face. Emma glared at him, not surprised at his betrayal, but still disappointed.
“Apologies, my lady,” he muttered before being ushered out of the room by Mrs. Briddle. The woman then turned to Emma.
“If you need help with your gown Lady Emma, I would be happy to help you,” she said, sneering.
“No thank you, Mrs. Biddle. I think you have done quite enough.” Emma tried her hardest to invoke the tone of her station.
Once again, Emma hated how the maid dared to act so arrogantly just because she had her brother’s favor. She was a servant, and as soon as this was over, Emma would see to it that the woman was dismissed, without recommendations.
“Come now, Lady Emma. You know I only want what’s best for you. Been caring for you since you were a little lady. His Lordship wishes you a happy life in France, surely you see that.” Mrs. Briddle moved toward the bed, and Emma became nervous. She moved to cut the woman off, settling herself on the corner of the bed in a very unladylike position.
Emma was unsure what the woman’s motivations truly were, but if it was to simply serve the lord of the family, perhaps Emma could play the part. Mrs. Briddle had always been reverent to her father when he was the Earl, and so it made sense that she would do Thomas’ bidding now that he had taken their father’s place. It would be best for Emma if she played along with the desires of her brother.
“Mrs. Briddle, perhaps you are right. I find myself not quite ready to retire. Surely you can encourage my brother to allow me down for the evening meal and we can discuss the matter further?” Her words came out a little too rushed. Mrs. Briddle eyed her suspiciously.
“Lady Emma, do you really wish to approach the subject of your marriage to the Frenchman?”
Emma nearly uttered that never had she lost her senses but controlled herself.
“Oh yes, I’ve had quite a lot of time to think, locked in this chamber as I have been. And Thomas may be correct in assuming he knows what is best for me and the future of our family.” She almost choked on her words, but she needed to get rid of the old woman and fast.
Chapter 13
The space between Emma’s bedding and the floor was tight. Even in the best of circumstances it would have been a difficult squeeze for a man of William’s size, but now with what he was hearing above, it was becoming near impossible for him to remain hidden. Only his fear for Emma’s safety and his need to get her away from this house and England kept him in place.
A marriage, and not to me but to a Frenchman?
Something foul was definitely afoot with the new Earl, and William did not want to stick around with Emma to find out what it was.
He could not swallow his jealousy, listening to Emma discuss her ‘change of heart’ with that old hag. William had to gather his wits. Of course, the lass was being smart and leading the woman away, but it still cut like a knife to hear Emma so casually discuss marrying another.
He didn’t have time to analyze his feelings at the moment, but Emma was his and his alone. Any man who dared try to claim her would meet a swift end by the tip of his sword. He exhaled slowly.
“Oh, Lady Emma, I’m sure His Lordship will be so pleased to hear you’ve come around in your thinking,” the maid said, as William clenched his teeth. “I’ll go to him at once on your behalf.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Briddle,” Emma replied. William found himself in awe of the bonny lass’ bravery in facing the woman, and by proxy, her brother.
Once he heard the click of the door, signaling they were once again alone, William let out the breath he was holding and slipped from beneath the bed. “Lass, ye handled the woman beautifully. How much time do we have before she’ll return to fetch ye for dinner?”
“Not long, mayhap within the hour. She was so pleased to think I had changed my mind, she’s most likely racing to see my brother as we speak.”
“Then we need to get ye out of here and fast. Do ye have a traveling bag?” He was surprised to see Emma pull out an already packed valise from behind a side chair.
“Lass, that will nay fit on the horses. Do ye have a smaller bundle? We’ll only have room for the necessities.”
“Oh my,” she replied. “Um, yes, certainly. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can find something smaller.”
He wanted to chuckle at her innocence but was reminded of the bravery she had just shown with the housekeeper. Coupled with the fact that he was uprooting her life, he thought better of it.
“Lass, when all this is over, I’ll make sure ye only travel in style. I promise.” She hadn’t been able to tell him what the message she wanted to get to him was, but one look at her, so bonny and willing to run away with him now, filled his heart with joy. It was Emma’s turn to smile, and William thought the light in her eyes could brighten any night.
He walked over to the window, and let out a low whistle. Goraidh moved from his cover under a close-by tree, two saddled horses held by the reins. William smiled. Goraidh thought of everything. The man was a genius. “We’re comin’ down.” His friend gave one solid nod, as William turned back to Emma.
“Me lass, we’ll need to go through the window.”
“I understand. Where will we go?”
“Somewhere safe until we can figure out what’s goin’ on, lass. I heard ye scream and nearly lost me mind. I canna leave ye here to face yer brother alone, especially not now that I ken he plans to marry ye off to another man.” He thought he saw fear pass across her gaze, but she quickly masked it with determination.
“Well, then, I guess my only other question is how will we get down?” She looked over the edge of the balcony and saw William had not used a ladder to climb the manor house wall.
“Well, lass, for that,” he said, giving her a little chuckle. “For that, I’ll need ye to trust me.”
He picked her up. She was light in his arms, yet still managed to fit perfectly. She let out a gasp, and William felt his heart clench. If he had to guess, he would think a lady of her caliber had never been lifted off her feet with such ease before.
“Now lass, doona fash, place yer arms around me neck and I’ll swing ye around to me back. Whatever ye do, doona scream. We need quiet and nightfall on our side. Once yer on me back, wrap yer legs around me waist, like so.” William gripped Emma’s waist to show her exactly where. Her sharp intake of breath made his stomach tense with acute desire.
He had bedded women before. But he never had such a reaction to a woman. It seemed where Emma was concerned everything was hap
pening rapidly and as if for the first time. “Do ye understand, lass?”
She nodded, and William positioned her for their decent. Climbing down the wall proved a tad more difficult than climbing up, when his fear for Emma and drive to get to her had assisted. Now he had her wrapped around him, feeling very aware of the precious cargo he carried. He did not want to fall and possibly hurt the lass.
They dropped down to where Goraidh waited. “Me lady,” the other man greeted Emma with a deep bow, draping his hand across his waist in a flamboyant flourish.
Disciplined by the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 10