Jessie blinked against the needles of heavy rain lashing against her face as she frantically glanced about, unsure of what to do or which way to turn. All around her was chaos. The chairman who had fallen was lying on the road, moaning horribly as he clutched his leg—his ankle was bent at the strangest angle; blood, a protruding bone. Oh God. Nausea swelled within Jessie at the gruesome sight. An overturned cart lying directly in front of her had lost its load. Apples, onions, cabbages and heaven knew what else lay scattered across the streaming cobbles. A wild-eyed horse reared and whinnied. People were everywhere, but they seemed focused on the chairman’s plight, or were diverting approaching traffic. Someone was ringing a warning bell and several men tried to control the horse.
I should break free now and run.
The pistol bit into Jessie’s back again and the vice-like grip of the countess’s hand about her shoulder increased. Lady Strathburn would not be foiled so easily. ‘Keep walking. Move.’
Jessie staggered around the cart and crossed the road, toward Holyrood’s gates. Hope flickered at the thought the constable at the gate-house might notice her plight but then the countess forced her to turn a sharp left toward the Leith Road, away from the melee. Away from any prospect of help. Oh Lord save me. This can’t be happening.
But it was. Jessie stumbled along the edge of the road, beneath the Water Gate, past the public well and the Back of the Canongate until the countess forced her to stop at the entrance to a filthy laneway; a row of tightly packed, dubious looking tenement houses, stables and warehouses stood on one side, and a stretch of boggy plotted ground lay on the other. ‘I don’t know which way to go.’ Jessie’s voice was thick with tears and desperation. She hadn’t realised she was crying.
‘Baird is waiting down there. Hurry up.’
Lady Strathburn pushed her and Jessie started forward, her legs stiff, her feet like lead weights. This couldn’t be the end. She couldn’t let Lady Strathburn get away with this.
I have to get back to Robert.
But how?
A deserted common yawned at the very end of the lane and just to the right, slightly obscured by a small copse of trees, was a plain black hackney carriage and a man … Baird. His dark hair was plastered over one side of his sallow, weasel like face. As they drew closer, his mouth spread into a strange, lascivious smile.
No. Jessie halted and Lady Strathburn crashed into her. ‘I willna go with you.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Where, in God’s name, was Jessie?
Robert paused, his horse on the edge of Auldgate Square, looking frantically up and down the Royal Mile for any sign of his stepmother’s sedan chair. Although the traffic was relatively sparse for this time of the day, his vision was hindered by the bucketing rain.
A torrent of fear coursed through his veins. His stepmother had kidnapped Jessie, he was certain of it. He castigated himself for having sent on Simon’s letter to Strathburn House before he’d returned from seeing off The Phoenix. He should have anticipated that Caroline was capable of acting both rashly and callously, that she would not hesitate to take an eye for an eye. The woman had already demonstrated that she was corrupt to the very core.
And yet again his lack of foresight and judicious planning—brought about by his own arrogant overconfidence—had placed his beautiful young wife, the light that warmed his own dark soul, in imminent danger. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.
Fortunately, Gordon had seen Jessie and his stepmother climb into the countess’s sedan less than ten minutes ago. They couldn’t have gone far in this weather. But where would they be headed?
Robert narrowed his eyes against the icy splinters of driving rain and glanced down toward the end of the Canongate. The White Horse Inn and Holyrood Park lay that way. If Caroline was going to spirit Jessie away—or worse—he guessed she might head in that direction, rather than up the hill toward Edinburgh Castle where the Scots Guard regiment was stationed. Of course, there could be any number of obscure wynds or closes she could have directed her sedan down. If that was the case, it would be near on impossible to locate Jessie swiftly.
Robert angled his horse out into the main thoroughfare. The gutters and cobblestones were aflood—the conditions were indeed treacherous underfoot. The urge to travel faster than a steady trot was strong, but he kept his impatience tightly reined in. It would be easy for anyone, pedestrian or horse alike, to slip over on the road. He pushed down another surge of fear for Jessie. He needed to focus on locating the sedan, not on wild imaginings.
He had travelled perhaps only a hundred yards down the Canongate when he noticed a commotion ahead, not far from the gates of Holyrood. Voices shouting, a warning bell clanging, the distinctive neigh of a terrified horse.
What the hell had happened? Instinct told him it had something to do with Jessie.
Ignoring the risk, he kicked his horse forward toward the chaos in the street. And then stopped short of what could possibly be a tableau from his worst nightmare. Between the wheel shafts of a splintered cart and the legs of the gathering crowd, he caught the fleeting glimpse of someone on the ground. Moaning horribly and writhing.
Oh no, no, no. His heart hurtling against his ribs, Robert leapt from his horse and pushed through the shocked bystanders.
Not Jessie. Thank God. It was a man—a sedan chair bearer by the looks of him—with a shocking ankle fracture. He winced in sympathy before scanning the faces around him.
Still no sign of his wife.
Then he saw it. Close by, beside the toppled cart, stood his stepmother’s sedan chair, the door hanging open. Hell, was Jessie inside? Injured?
Fear knifing through him again, Robert forced his way through the crowd and rushed over to the sedan.
But there was no one inside.
Holy hell. Robert didn’t know whether to curse God or thank him.
He straightened and turned around, scouring the dark openings to all of the nearby closes and wynds, then beyond the scene of the accident to the Abbey Close and Holyrood Park. Down Horse Wynd. Toward the busy road to Abbey Hill and Leith. Jessie must be close by. It was almost as if he could sense her presence.
There. Farther along, well past the Water Gate. He could just make out two female figures—one slender and redheaded he’d wager—rounding a corner into another street.
Caroline must be armed. Jessie would never have gone with his stepmother, unless she had been compelled to. Thank Christ he’d thought to bring his own weapon—a pistol. Tucked into the waistband of breeches at the small of his back, his greatcoat hid it from view. Being seen with a proscribed weapon certainly wouldn’t do him any favours if the Town or Scots Guard were about. Or the High Constable stationed at the main gate into Holyrood. His probation could be revoked for even the most minor of transgressions. And that could not happen. Not now he had a life worth living.
After relocating and mounting his horse, Robert manoeuvered the gelding through the crush of on-lookers, then spurred him into a fast trot, down Leith Road to the side street.
Yes. There they were at the end of the lane, heading toward a stand of trees and the edge of the wild common leading up to Calton Hill. Not wanting to waste time, but keenly aware that a silent approach was in order, Robert slid from his horse halfway along the narrow thoroughfare and handed the reins and a crown to an urchin boy lurking in the shadows between two boarding houses. He would follow on foot. Observe, then take action as required.
The sheeting rain continued unabated. It obscured his gaze, but it also masked the splash of his footfalls as he traversed the muddy lane. Although his heart thundered in his chest and his belly twisted with anxiety, he couldn’t afford to give into thought-robbing panic. He needed to keep a clear head. For Jessie.
On reaching the copse, he halted and took cover, listening.
‘I willna go with you.’
Jessie. His gut instincts had been right.
His stepmother spoke, her voice dripping
with malice. ‘Ah, so you obviously want a bullet in you right now then—’
‘You bluff, Lady Strathburn. You will no’ have a hope of ever seeing yer son again if ye kill me. Robert will see to tha’, ye can be sure.’
Good lass. Stall. Robert chanced a glance around the trees. There was a carriage. A tall, greasy looking, but slightly built man seemed to be in the process of unlatching the carriage door and putting down the steps.
Then Caroline’s next utterance reached his ears and his blood raced, hot and angry through his veins. ‘Well, perhaps Baird can provide you with some incentive to cooperate. You’ll get in the carriage or I’ll get him to fuck you right here, right now while I watch.’
Over my dead body. Dispose of Baird, then deal with Caroline. They wouldn’t be going anywhere if there was no one to drive the carriage. Taking advantage of the fact that everyone currently had their backs turned to him, Robert bent low and dashed over to a bedraggled clump of gorse bushes and a broken wooden fence to his left. Closer. Jessie was less than a few yards away now. He caught a glimpse of Caroline’s weapon—a duelling pistol by the looks of it—pressed into Jessie’s back as she was roughly pushed toward the carriage. Shit. He prayed his stepmother didn’t have itchy fingers.
Baird stood to the side, near the traces, smirking as he stroked his groin with one hand, his attention on Jessie as she began to lift her skirts to climb into the carriage. Bastard.
Robert pulled his pistol out from the back of his breeches, and focused his concentration, preparing to strike. A nice, clean hit to the back of the cur’s head with the butt of his weapon would do.
Five fast paces, a short cracking blow and Baird was down. ‘Step away from Jessie, Caroline,’ he growled as he trained his pistol straight at his stepmother’s head, ‘or you’ll be dead before you know what’s hit you.’
Caroline shrieked, and hauled Jessie up against her own body. The bitch might be trying to use Jessie as a shield, but at least her pistol was now aimed at him. ‘What have you done with my son?’ she screeched, her aim wavering wildly as she spat out each word. Her face was white except for two ugly blotches of red, high on her cheekbones.
Jessie whimpered, her eyes were wide, terrified. ‘Robert—’
Caroline yanked cruelly on her hair with her free hand. ‘Shut your mouth,’ she screamed.
Hell, the woman was more unstable than Robert had realised. He swallowed past the tight, ball of fear suddenly jamming his throat. God knew what his stepmother would do. ‘Put the pistol down, Caroline and I’ll take you to, Simon. I assure you, he’s fine.’
‘Liar. I don’t believe you.’ There was a click; the distinct sound of a weapon being cocked.
Christ.
‘No!’ Jessie twisted in Caroline’s grip, attempting to wrest away the pistol.
‘Let go, you bitch.’ Caroline’s face had contorted into an ugly, hate-filled mask; for the space of a heartbeat, the two women grappled with each other to gain control over the weapon.
Sweet Jesus Christ, no. If anything happened to Jessie … Robert lurched forward just as the women slipped in the mud and toppled to the ground, Jessie on top of Caroline. A shot rang out.
No, no, no. ‘Jessie!’ Terror ripping through him as surely as the bullet that had just been discharged, Robert lurched forward and eased Jessie away from his stepmother. Blood. On both of them. ‘Jessie, love?’
‘I’m all right, Robert.’ Jessie reached for him and he fell into the mud, holding her, rocking her in his arms as she sobbed against his neck. ‘I didna mean fer the pistol to go off, but I thought she would kill you. Thank God, you are all right too.’
Yes. Thank God. As head-spinning relief swept through him, Robert stroked Jessie’s dripping, tangled hair and her shuddering back. Safe. His beautiful wife was safe. He could scarcely fathom it. Not wanting to, but knowing that he had to, he then glanced down at his stepmother. She’d been shot in the chest. Left side. Stone dead.
We need to get away from here. ‘Jessie, lass. We must move. If anyone finds us with Lady Strathburn …’
Jessie sucked in a sharp breath and pulled back from his tight embrace. ‘Oh, my Lord, you’re right. You especially canna be seen here.’
As they both clambered to their feet, Jessie’s legs buckled momentarily. Robert swore and pulled her against him. After he’d pushed his pistol into the waistband at the front of his breeches, he shrugged off his greatcoat and wrapped it around her shaking body. He then swept her into his arms. ‘Hopefully my horse is still where I left him.’
Thank heavens the young boy he’d entrusted was reliable. The lad accepted another handful of coins without a word, flashed Robert a gap-toothed grin, then scurried off into the murky shadows of one of the tenement houses. After placing Jessie on his mount, Robert swung up behind her and turned his horse in the direction of the Canongate again.
‘Are we g-going home?’ asked Jessie through chattering teeth.
Robert pulled her close against him as they trotted down the lane. ‘I’m afraid we’re going to return to the scene of the accident, mo chridhe. There will be the Scots Guard, or at the very least the Town Guard looking about the place by now. They will notice that Caroline’s sedan chair is there and when questioned—and we undoubtedly will be—we will both attest that you have been there the whole time, and that I came upon you by chance after I’d farewelled The Phoenix. I’m counting on the fact that confusion is still reigning and no one will have noticed our comings and goings.’
Jessie nodded. ‘I pray that’ ye are right.’
As they approached the foot of the Canongate, Robert could still see a huge flurry of activity around the accident site. He estimated they must have only been gone ten minutes. With any luck, no one would have looked for Jessie or the countess yet. He dismounted, then helped Jessie to alight. He took her hand. ‘Do you think you can walk from here?’
She nodded and gave him a tremulous smile ‘Yes.’
Within half a minute, they’d reached the Royal Mile again. Robert secured his mount and then drew Jessie into the dark entrance of a nearby close so he could gather her into his arms. He could still barely believe she’d survived this nightmare unharmed. Crushing her body against his, he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. Tears escaped from his eyes and mingled with the rain on his face and hers as he showered light kisses across her forehead and eyelids and cheeks. ‘Are you sure you’re not hurt, my love?’
‘I’m fine,’ she murmured breathlessly, reaching up to push his wet hair away from his face. Her eyes locked with his, but he could see their expression was more solemn than relieved. She couldn’t hide from him. The shadows of her ordeal still lingered in their depths and most probably would for some time to come. ‘You probably gathered yer stepmother was trying to kidnap me—to ransom me for Simon’s return. I dinna know how ye found me …’
‘Gordon saw you leaving with my stepmother. Then, the accident caught my attention. It’s unfortunate, but if it hadn’t been for that … I’ll make sure the poor chairman and any family he has are well compensated.’
Jessie nodded, then closed her eyes briefly before she focused her gaze back on him. ‘What about Baird?’
Robert felt the muscles bunch tightly in his jaw. ‘I’m sure that he’s already come to, and if he has any brain at all, he’ll beat a hasty retreat. He can go to hell, along with Simon and my stepmother. It’s no less than they all deserve.’ As much as it grated, he was inclined to let Baird skulk away. And as Simon was now gone, he doubted he’d ever see the man’s face again. Baird was just damned lucky the terms of his probation tied his hands in meting out any form of real justice.
The clanging of another bell drew Robert’s attention to the street. Reluctantly letting Jessie go, he turned around. An ambulance cart had at last arrived and the injured chairman was being moved onto a stretcher. A pair of Scots Guard soldiers and a few of the Town Guards could also be seen in amongst the other members of the crowd. In fact, the uninjured
sedan chair attendant speaking with one of the dragoons suddenly pointed Jessie’s way. Robert’s heart rate kicked up a notch. It wouldn’t be long before someone would want to question her. And they would most certainly ask about the whereabouts of Lady Strathburn.
‘Despite everything yer stepmother did, I’m verra sorry tha’ things have ended this way,’ Jessie murmured. Emotion had thickened her voice. ‘For yer father’s sake at least.’
Robert turned back, amazed at Jessie’s capacity for compassion and forgiveness. She truly was a beautiful soul. He drew her into his arms again to not only offer her comfort but to reassure himself she really was safe … and that was when he felt the butt of his pistol pressing sharply into his hip bone.
Damn, bloody damn. If the Scots Guard or the Town Guards saw it, he was done for. As surreptitiously as he could, he slid the pistol behind his back and tucked it into his breeches, praying his woollen riding jacket would be enough to conceal the suspicious bulge. He had nowhere better to hide it; his greatcoat was still draped around Jessie’s shoulders, and she clearly needed it; not only for warmth but to cover the blood stains on the front of her drenched blue gown.
To think he’d nearly lost her …
‘I don’t care about anything else except for the fact that you are safe, and with me,’ he murmured, gently pushing strands of damp hair away from her eyes. He cradled her lovely face in his hands, brushing his thumbs lightly along her cheekbones where traces of her tears and the rain still lingered.
‘Kiss me,’ she breathed.
He found himself drowning in the warm glow of her whisky-brown eyes. Dear Lord, how could he resist? ‘Whatever my lady desires,’ he whispered.
The Master Of Strathburn Page 32