Tying the Scot

by Jennifer Trethewey

  Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d had very little to eat today. The uncomfortable fact that she needed to relieve herself also pecked at her nerves.

  “Will we be stopping soon?” she asked Liam.

  “In another hour. I want to put plenty of distance between us and Balforss.”

  “Do you think he will come looking for me?” Lucy asked, aware that she sounded almost hopeful.

  The question amused Liam. “You mean your other puppy, Alex? Yes, I have no doubt your pet will be hunting for you, nose to the ground, just like a dog.”

  Elizabeth doubled over laughing. Monstrous woman.

  Lucy lifted her chin. “He’s not a puppy, and he’s not my pet.”

  “Don’t worry,” Liam said. “I will take every precaution to make certain you reach Dunrobin Castle.”

  At last, the carriage pulled to a stop at one of the rare patches of forested land. The copse of trees popped up out of nowhere, looking out of place amid vast stretches of rolling fields, clumps of gorse, and endless moors. Was this the same spot where they had been attacked? Where she had shot that man? She gazed at the tree line and shuddered.

  Liam and the driver made haste to the trees on one side of the road while Elizabeth and Lucy searched for a secluded spot to relieve themselves on the other. Hercules, concluding his business in short order, must have thought it safe to inspect Elizabeth, for he helped himself to a sniff while she was in a compromising position.

  Elizabeth screamed, “Get away from me, you filthy mutt,” then stood and kicked little Hercules.

  He yelped and scampered into Lucy’s arms. She stomped over to the other woman, bloody murder pounding in her heart. “If you ever touch my dog again, so help me, I will…”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “You’ll what?”

  Lucy wanted to slap the sneer off of her face but resisted. It was more important that she get to Dunrobin Castle without incident. She marched back to the carriage, holding Hercules protectively in her arms.

  Another coach, not as fine, but near as handsome as Liam’s, jangled toward them from the opposite direction and slowed. When Liam emerged from the forest, the coach’s occupant called for his driver to stop.

  “Ulbster!” a man inside the coach shouted.

  Elizabeth muttered a curse. “It’s the Sinclairs from Stempster. Just nod your head and keep your mouth shut.” All smiles, she hurried to the new carriage, calling, “Harriet, George, how wonderful to see you.”

  Once she had climbed aboard, Lucy overheard Elizabeth explain to Harriet and George how it was necessary for them to leave Balforss early.

  “Our dear friend is ill and needs to return to Ulbster. It’s best you not get too close in case it’s catching.”

  The carriage occupants wished Lucy a swift recovery. They said their farewells, but before the coach continued on its way, Hercules erupted into another barking fit.

  “Shut that thing up,” Elizabeth snapped.

  For the next three hours, Lucy tried to make sense of Liam’s investment in her escape. He had promised his friend Langley he would deliver her to him. He couldn’t be all bad if he were Langley’s friend. Loyalty and friendship were good qualities in an individual. If Liam completed his mission successfully and she reached Langley without incident, she would thank him graciously. In the future, she would maintain a good opinion of Liam and forgive him his minor social ineptitudes.

  Elizabeth was an altogether different case. First, she had been rude. Second, she had attempted to embarrass Lucy by calling attention to her illegitimacy. Third, she had intentionally dumped the hot platter on her lap, ruining her gown and almost causing her physical harm. She was a mean, spiteful, graceless woman. Why Alex would be attracted to her was mystifying.

  She remembered something Nounou Phillipa used to say. Penser avec sa bite. Thinking with his cock.

  Lucy’s stomach tightened, remembering the feel of Alex pressing against her body, how he became aroused by her kisses. It had made her light-headed. She missed the Alex she had known before Elizabeth came to Balforss and bewitched him. If only he was the real Alex. She would have been happy with that man as a husband. The thought of Alex pressing himself against this woman upset her.

  She supposed she should thank her for revealing the true Alex before she made the monumental mistake of marrying him. Her pride, however, made it difficult to be civil to the woman, much less grateful to her. The sight of Elizabeth kissing Alex was painfully burned into Lucy’s memory, and it made her angry to admit how much he’d hurt her.

  The puzzling aspect of this whole endeavor was Elizabeth’s presence. Why hadn’t she remained at Balforss? Why would she take part in her escape? She doubted it had anything to do with loyalty to her stepbrother, Liam. They seemed to detest each other.

  Lucy could understand if she were, at the most, indifferent. Was it possible Elizabeth was uncertain of Alex’s affections? So uncertain that she was desperate to rid Balforss of Lucy, thus ensuring the marriage would not take place?

  Merde.

  She couldn’t care less about Miss Damn-Her-Eyes’ insecurities. What rankled Lucy the most about her was that the nasty woman had won.

  …

  Alex gave his mother’s shoulder a slight shake. “Where’s Da?”

  “I ken he’s at the forge with—”

  “I need him. Please, Ma. Get him, now.”

  Flora dashed away, skirts aflutter.

  No matter how deeply he inhaled, Alex couldn’t get enough air. How was it possible to suffocate in the out of doors? “Magnus, Declan, sound the alarm. Gather as many men as can be ready to ride in half an hour. Tell them to arm themselves.” Alex turned to his brother. “Ian, will you help me?”

  “Of course. Go and get ready. I’ll bring Da to the library, and we’ll meet you there to plan the search.”

  Ian’s words steadied him. His brother’s calm presence eased the storm of rage and fear churning in his belly. At last, his breathing slowed. “I’ve got to get her back.”

  “It looks as if she’s left on her own accord,” Ian said.

  “Aye, that’s how it looks. But until I hear it from her lips, I willnae believe it.”

  Alex dressed and armed himself, fumbling with his belt and cursing his trembling hands. He took the painted miniature of Lucy from his table, rubbed his thumb over it, and closed his eyes. “Please God. Let me find her before it’s too late.” He dropped the miniature into his sporran.

  He located Haddie in Lucy’s room and questioned her further. She listed what items of Lucy’s were missing; her jewels, a yellow gown, and the wooden case containing her bow and quiver. She believed Lucy was wearing her hunting costume and described the outfit from boots to black hat.

  Had she been kidnapped, Alex might have ransomed her. But the evidence was clear. She had packed and left willingly. Either the bloody viscount or someone else—possibly Liam acting on Langley’s behalf—had met her and hastened her away. Her life was not in immediate danger. That fact brought him a small measure of comfort. Most likely, she was only in danger of her own misjudgment. Alex’s greatest fear was wrought from the idea that he might never see her again.

  Why make her stay against her will? A week ago, he would have let things be, allowed her to go, and admitted defeat. He would have accepted that she didn’t want him, let her have her lover, and to hell with her. But that was before he had kissed her. Before he had held her in his arms and felt the sincere passion she had for him. Alex knew better. Lucy would not have left him had he not driven her away.

  His father and Ian stood in the library, grim-faced and heads bent in contemplation. Alex expected them to try to convince him not to go after her. He was surprised to find that they were equally determined to find the lass.

  “Her abductor will want to secret her out of the country by ship as quickly as possible,” his father said. “I propose I take half our men and cover the port cities to the north—Thurso, Dunnet Head, and Keiss. Alex,
you and Ian take Declan and Magnus and ride south to Latheron. From there, head east to Ulbster. We’ll meet in Wick.”

  “Agreed,” Alex said. “They’ve got a good half day’s jump on us, but they’ll be traveling at a slower pace.” Alex gave his father a detailed description of what Lucy was wearing, hoping it might help in their search.

  Flora appeared at the library door, wringing her hands in her skirts, worry etched on her face. “What shall I do when the other wedding guests arrive?”

  “Beg their forgiveness and send them home, I’m afraid,” John said.

  “I’m sorry, Ma. This is all my fault,” Alex said.

  Diana’s voice echoed in the entry hall from above stairs. “Flora, what’s all this fuss about? Where is Haddie? I haven’t had my tea.”

  “Go, Flora,” John said. “Keep her upstairs until we’re away. I cannae have her adding to the frenzy.”

  As Flora left, Sir Ranald wandered into the library, looking lost. “I take it something’s gone amiss, John,” he said, eyes roaming around the room. “Ian. Good to see you, man. On leave from the army, are you?”

  “Aye, sir.” Ian spoke louder for Sir Ranald’s benefit. “It’s good to see you, as well.”

  Alex wanted to be off. They were wasting time blethering when they should be looking for Lucy. Hardly able to contain himself, he cast a look of distress his father’s way.

  “Sorry, Ranald,” John said. “We cannae stay. Alex’s bride Lucy is what’s gone amiss. We must look for her straight away.” John abandoned Sir Ranald and asked Alex, “One thing more before we leave, son. What can you tell us about this Langley fellow?”

  “Langley, did you say?” Sir Ranald startled the other men with his question. Usually, Sir Ranald grasped half of what anyone said and only when one shouted directly at him. Alex suspected Sir Ranald Ulbster wasn’t quite as deaf as he let on.

  “You know the name?” Alex asked.

  “Yes. I believe so,” Sir Ranald said. “I’m trying to recall where I’ve heard the name. Oh, yes, of course. The Earl of Bromley. Yes. Yes. Langley is an acquaintance of Liam’s. They met at school.”

  Alex, Ian, and their father exchanged looks. Bloody Liam was the culprit who took Lucy from Balforss.

  “Why?” Sir Ranald asked. He dodged aside as all three men rocketed out of the library, calling after them, “Have I said something wrong?”

  …

  Lucy woke when the carriage jolted suddenly. It must have hit a large stone in the road. Her neck ached from having slept in such an odd position. She rubbed it with one hand while patting the seat cushion next to her with the other, mildly alarmed to find it empty.

  “Hercules?”

  Liam and Elizabeth were dozing on the opposite bench. She lifted their lap blankets and searched.

  “Hercules?” She made another desperate search around the inside of the carriage. “Stop the carriage. Stop the carriage!”

  Liam roused himself enough to ask, “Why?”

  “Hercules is missing. Stop the carriage now.”

  Liam lowered the glass window and banged on the side of the door. The carriage lurched to a stop. She flung open the door, jumped out, and ran back down the narrow road calling to the dog. “Hercules!” She kept running. Kept calling. Running and calling over and over. She refused to believe her dearest companion was lost. If she called his name loud enough he would come, wouldn’t he?

  Lucy stopped to listen for his familiar bark, her chest heaving, unable to catch her breath. Nothing. Silence. From her vantage point, she could see miles and miles down the road until it disappeared into the horizon. No Hercules. Lucy felt her knees buckle as her loss sliced its way into her heart. She wept bitterly.

  “Lucy, get up,” Liam ordered.

  She couldn’t. She was bereft without her little man. Hercules was her only friend, and now he was out in the open, abandoned. How frightened he must be. He could be hurt or hungry.

  “Lucy, get up, I say. We cannot tarry.”

  “Turn the carriage around,” Lucy screamed, her voice ragged from calling for Hercules. “Turn it around now. We have to look for him.”

  “I’m sorry you lost your pet, but we can’t.”

  She got to her feet and glared at him. “You’re not sorry at all.”

  Elizabeth poked her head out of the carriage and called, “What the devil is going on?”

  “You did this.” Lucy pointed an accusing finger at the evil witch. She marched back to the carriage, fists clenched and shaking with rage. “You hated him. You’re a cruel hag, and I hope you die a horrible, painful death. Just like my—oh God, Hercules.” Lucy covered her face and sobbed.

  “Temper, temper,” Elizabeth taunted.

  “Quiet, Elizabeth,” Liam shouted. “Don’t make matters worse.” He put a hand on Lucy’s shoulder to comfort her, but she batted it away.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  “Get in the carriage, Lucy.” Liam’s normally saccharine tone turned ugly. “We must be on our way. There’s no time to lose. Langley is waiting, but he’ll only wait so long.”

  “No. I’m going to find Hercules. I’ll walk if I have to.”

  “No, you won’t.” Liam grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, spun her around and shook her once hard, making her neck snap painfully. “Stop your nonsense and get back in the carriage before I toss you inside!”

  Dazed from his abuse, Lucy climbed back into the evil conveyance, sat down, and stared blankly at the empty space next to her. Hercules was lost. She was alone. Completely alone.

  Grief stricken, she fought back bouts of weeping. Her tears amused the witch. She seemed to feed on other people’s misery. In all her life, Lucy had never known a more loathsome person. London Society teamed with despicable people. Most of them women who, whether from envy or boredom, entertained themselves by spreading wicked lies about others. But she had never known someone who would deliberately harm an innocent creature. Her hatred of Elizabeth doubled.

  They reached an inn before nightfall, the one she had visited on their way to Balforss. Lucy refused supper, unwilling to be seated at a table with her tormentors. Instead, she went to her room and locked the door.

  Once there, she felt the loss of Hercules acutely. Were he with her, he would jump on the bed and make himself comfortable. When she retired, he would snuggle close to her, and they would share their warmth. She was never frightened when Hercules was with her. Tonight, though, she started at every footstep, every creaking floorboard, every muffled voice.

  She removed her jacket, boots, and hat, then washed her face and brushed the road dust from her clothing. Lucy had little appetite. She nibbled on the bread and cheese Mrs. Swenson had given her. This morning felt like a hundred days ago.

  For the first time, she began to doubt the wisdom of her decision to run away. If she had stayed at Balforss, Hercules would still be with her. Had she been rash? Prideful? Dear Lord, was her foolish pride the reason Hercules was lost to her? Fat tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked.

  Memories of Alex holding little Hercules in his arms soothed her anguish. Alex had been kind to Hercules, treated him like the treasure the dog was to her. Once, she had come upon Alex unawares. He had allowed Hercules to stand in his lap and lick his face. No doubt the dog had wanted to taste his handsomeness. Alex had laughed and called Hercules “wee beastie.” The little man had looked so tiny in Alex’s big hands.

  She closed her eyes and touched her lips. She missed Alex—his voice, his smile, his smell. She even missed his temper. But it had all been a lie right from the start. The effort it must have taken to pretend to want her. How could she have been such a fool? Was she so desperate to find a kind and loving husband that she had overlooked his deceit? And yet, there had to be some truth behind those kisses. No one could act a part that well. Perhaps he had, after all, liked her a little.

  The image of Alex kissing Elizabeth, the image that had permanently burned itself into her memory, drifted to the front of her
mind. She pounded a fist on her thigh. Stop it. Stop imagining that he ever cared for you.

  Feeling too vulnerable to change into her nightrail, she lay down on the lumpy bed fully clothed. Tomorrow, she kept telling herself, tomorrow she would see Langley. He would sweep her into his arms, tell her how much he missed her, and beg her to marry him. Tomorrow, they would sail away to England, to Maidstone Hall, to Papa, and George, and Phillipa.

  But try as she might, she could not remember what Langley looked like.

  …

  Alex gave Goliath his head and raced south toward Latheron. He swore to himself he would beat Liam Ulbster until his face was unrecognizable if he had harmed a hair on Lucy’s head. If Lucy lost her life on this escapade, he would see both Liam and Elizabeth hanged. In any case, he planned to remove Langley’s arms and legs, one by one, once he found him. What kind of a scoundrel steals another man’s bride, days before his wedding?

  He felt better than he had earlier today when he’d had no idea where Lucy was or how she’d disappeared. He was certain now that Liam and Elizabeth were taking Lucy to the viscount. Most likely, they would meet him at their estate in Ulbster, or the docks in Wick. Nevertheless, his father took Uncle Fergus and three men to cover the ports along the northern road. Alex, Ian, Declan, and Magnus headed south. Two hours into their race to Ulbster, he confirmed they were on the right trail when they met George and Harriet Sinclair of Stempster on their way to Thurso. Alex summarized his current dilemma. George Sinclair said they had indeed encountered stepbrother and sister in the company of a dark-haired woman with a dog.

  Four hours later, the sun hovered over the western ridge. They were still twenty miles away from Latheron. Alex wanted to press on.

  “We cannae ride this road in the dark, man,” Ian said. “One of our horses is like to go lame.”

  “Just a few miles farther before we stop. There’s still light.”

  “Alex, please. The horses need rest and water. We must stop now.”

  Alex pulled back his reins. His brother was right. They had ridden hard all afternoon. They would be doing themselves no favors by riding their horses until they collapsed under them. With reluctance, he called for his men to dismount and make camp.