The Highlander's Stolen Bride

by Melanie George

  She narrowed her eyes as she reached out and touched the spot, turning her hand to see a wet red smear on her fingertips.

  Blood.

  She gasped, staring in horror at the statue. Derek had been injured in this very hallway only a few days earlier. Rosalyn told herself not to jump to conclusions, but she wouldn’t be able to quell the sickening feeling inside her until she saw Derek and knew he was all right.

  Lifting her skirts, she hastened down the hallway, her heart racing, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching.

  She was out of breath by the time she reached the main hall. Normally there were servants buzzing about, getting their daily chores done. Now there was not a soul to be found. The sight escalated her fear.

  Rosalyn whirled around at the sound of a doorway opening at the end of the hall. The person was hidden in the shadows until he stepped into a patch of sunlight streaming in through the arched window above the stairway.

  “Ethan!” she called in a relieved voice, rushing toward him.

  He frowned and stopped in his tracks. “Rosalyn? What’s the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “It’s Derek—I think something has happened to him.”

  “Your imagination is getting the better of you, my girl. He’s probably in his office, preparing the guillotine he intends to use on me should I not be gone before the morning meal.”

  “No,” Rosalyn said vehemently. “I found a statue with blood on it in the corridor upstairs.”

  “Blood?” The smile left Ethan’s face. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Something has happened to Derek; I can feel it.”

  “I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation. Ah, there’s Derek’s valet. Surely he’ll know where we can find the old boy. Jamison!” he bellowed.

  Jamison halted and speared Ethan with a haughty look. “Yes, sir? Is there something I can do for you?”

  Ethan tugged Rosalyn along behind him. “Indeed, there is. Where can I find your employer?”

  “May I ask why, sir?” Clearly the man didn’t trust him.

  “No, you may not, you impertinent toad. Just answer the question.”

  The valet straightened his spine. “I have not seen his lordship this morning.”

  “When did you see him last?” Rosalyn asked.

  He turned to her, his expression softening marginally. “Last night, my lady. He had somewhere to go, but did not say where.”

  “When was this?” Ethan demanded.

  “Around nine.”

  Shortly before Derek had met her in the courtyard. “No one has seen him since then?” Rosalyn asked, panic building inside her.

  “I do not know, miss. I’ll inquire, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, please. Thank you.”

  Jamison inclined his head to her, then to Ethan in a less cordial fashion, before continuing on toward the servant’s door.

  “Dawdling bugger,” Ethan grumbled as he turned to her. “Well, it seems King Manchester had important plans last night and did not make anyone privy to them. Perhaps he imbibed too much alcohol at the local tavern and is sleeping off a hangover in some alley,” he joked. “Or more likely, he hit himself with the statue. The lad has never been the brightest candle on the shelf.”

  Rosalyn stared at him. “This is serious. He could be hurt, or worse. Don’t you care? He is your brother.”

  “Half-brother,” Ethan emphasized, just as Derek had once done. “And no, I’m not particularly concerned about what happens to the sod. If you’ll recall, he has requested my immediate departure. One cannot feel inclined to care when one is facing homelessness.”

  “He was just upset. I’m sure he was going to tell you this morning that you could stay.”

  “Really?” Ethan quirked a disbelieving brow. “Now what could have brought about such a miraculous change of heart, I wonder?” His look told her that he knew she’d had a hand in Derek’s reconsideration.

  “Please, you must help me find him.”

  He regarded her for a long moment. “You really care for him, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I really do,” Rosalyn admitted. “Now will you please help?”

  Ethan sighed heavily. “Where should we begin?”

  Rosalyn tugged him toward the stairway. “I’ll start searching the east wing. You look in the west wing. Engage whatever servants you can to assist. Have someone check to see if his horse is in the stable.”

  “You are a rare gem, lass, and Derek is a lucky man to have you. I can only hope that someday I’ll find a woman who will care for me equally.”

  “You’ll find someone. I’m sure of it.”

  Together, they headed up the stairs. They were halfway to the top when the front door suddenly burst open. Rosalyn swung around, hoping she would find Derek standing there.

  “Good Lord, what are you doing here?” Ethan demanded in a surly tone as he stared down at Megan Trelawny, who stood in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily and staring up at them. “Have your brothers taught you no manners? You’re still an unruly hoyden.”

  Rosalyn noted how pale the girl was and knew something had happened. She rushed down the stairs and took Megan’s cold hands in hers.

  “What’s the matter?” Rosalyn asked urgently.

  Megan fought to regain her breath. “Derek,” she finally managed to say.

  Rosalyn’s grip on Megan’s hands tightened. “You’ve seen Derek? Where is he? Is he all right?”

  “Aye…I mean, no, he…”

  “For the love of God, woman, spit it out.” Ethan came to stand beside Rosalyn. “We haven’t all day.”

  Megan pulled away from Rosalyn and lunged at Ethan. “Ye’re a heartless swine!”

  “Please control yourself,” Ethan drawled, easily restraining her. “I’d rather not have your talons mar this face. Some women find it quite pleasing.”

  Megan struggled against Ethan’s hold, but he would not let go. “The devil will find it pleasing, since that’s where ye will go for what you’ve done.”

  “Megan, please,” Rosalyn beseeched anxiously. “Do you know where Derek is?”

  The girl slid angry, tear-filled eyes in Rosalyn’s direction. “He’s with my brothers.”

  Ethan groaned. “Her brothers hate Derek. They don’t want any man, especially my brother, defiling their darling sister. They were not very happy when their father betrothed the two. I’m lucky I was the bastard of the family, or I would have been sacrificed to this hell-raiser,” he grumbled, hitching a thumb at Megan.

  She slammed the heel of her boot down onto his toes.

  With a growl, Ethan clamped her arms behind her back with one hand and clapped his free hand over her mouth. Muted screeches spewed into Ethan’s palm.

  “I should have tanned your backside years ago. In case you’ve forgotten, dear heart, I’m the one man who will not kowtow to your tantrums. Save that for your brothers and my sibling.”

  “Ethan.” Rosalyn laid a hand on his arm. “Stop this. Let her talk.”

  He deliberated for a moment. “All right, but if she abuses me again, I’ll toss her into the moat.” Glaring down at Megan, he said, “Do you understand?”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits, but she nodded.

  “Good.” Ethan removed his hand from her mouth and wiped it on his trousers.

  “Derek’s in trouble,” Megan said. “My brothers have him in the solarium tied to a chair. His head is bleeding.”

  “Hence the bloodied statue,” Ethan said.

  Rosalyn turned to Megan. “What will your brother do if we show up at your home?”

  “I don’t know; I’ve never seen Kerry like this. When I found out what he had done, I tiptoed downstairs after everyone was abed. I found Derek tied to the chair, a rope around his chest. When I got closer, I saw the gash on the back of his head and blood on the collar of his shirt.

  “I didn’t know what to do. I hurried to
untie him, but I knew I couldn’t even hope to move him. Then the door flew open and Kerry was standin’ there. He ordered me out. When I told him I wouldn’t go, he had three of his men take me away bodily.

  “To my shock, Kerry locked me in my room and wouldn’t let me out, no matter how loudly I yelled or banged on the door.”

  “How did you get out, then?” Ethan inquired, folding his arms over his chest.

  “I shimmied down a drainpipe by my bedroom window and ran across the moor.”

  “Is there any way to get into your house without being spotted?” Rosalyn asked.

  Megan shook her head. “My brother’s men at arms would see us. It was pure luck that I wasn’t stopped. The guard at the back of the house was otherwise occupied.” She flushed.

  “All right. Then we go through the front gate. We will just have to tell Kerry that we know he has Derek and we want him released. We’ll bring all Derek’s men, if we must.”

  Ethan shook his head. “Bad idea. Highlanders take a legion of soldiers appearing on their doorstep to mean a fight. You don’t want that. It’s better if we go alone.”

  Rosalyn opened the front door and looked toward the tip of the Trelawnys’ castle, visible over the trees that separated one estate from the next.

  As they awaited the carriage Ethan had called for, Rosalyn realized that someone must have been working on the inside to have taken Derek unaware.

  But who?

  Darius appeared in the doorway. “What’s all the commotion?”

  “Ah, uncle,” Ethan intoned. “Here you are in a nick of time to save the day.”

  Darius blinked. “Huh?”

  “Derek has been kidnapped by the Trelawnys,” Rosalyn told him.

  Darius shook his head. “Not possible.”

  The coach arrived, and a limber young man jumped down from the box.

  “Ready to go, miss?” he asked, popping open the coach door for her.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Rosalyn told Derek’s uncle, hoping she was right.

  “I’ll stay in case the lad returns,” Darius replied.

  Megan climbed inside next to Rosalyn, and Ethan sat across from them, his arms folded, his expression far from welcoming.

  Talking was nearly impossible as they sped over the uneven road that bounced them every which way. Rosalyn held on to the strap above her head for dear life.

  “Bloody hell, that boy is going to kill us all,” Ethan griped as he saved Megan from falling face-first into his lap. “Can’t you stay in your seat, woman?”

  Megan’s gaze narrowed. “I assume you could do a better job?”

  Ethan turned and glared out the window.

  Highgate was nearly as impressive as Castle Gray, but not as big, and the view of the ocean was blocked by the woods.

  The drawbridge lowered, and the horses’ hooves clattered across the wood planks. Noticing the amount of disrepair to the bridge, Rosalyn held her breath until they entered the inner bailey.

  The massive front doors of the castle were flung open, and a mountain of a man with fiery red hair and a beard descended the stairs like a bull, six men in full battle gear behind him.

  Ethan helped them exit the coach, then leaned against it, looking unconcerned. “And here’s the pompous ass himself,” he sighed.

  “Megan Anne Trelawny!” her brother boomed.

  “Kerry, I can explain,” she said in a mollifying tone.

  He stopped in front of her, his face nearly as red as his hair as he scowled down at her. “Oh, ye’ll be doin’ much more than explainin’. Ye nearly did in me and the lads!” He gestured to the men behind him, all equally as big as their eldest brother. “When I found ye missin’ and realized ye had gone down the drainpipe, I could have murdered ye with me own hands. Ye could have been kilt, ye little twit.”

  For such a petite thing, Megan had a huge temper. She jabbed her brother hard in the chest. “Don’t call me a twit, ye mutton-headed buffoon. Ye locked me in my room as though I was a child in need of discipline!”

  “I won’t have ye interferin’ in my business.”

  “This concerns me, too!”

  “So ye’ve brought reinforcements, have ye? ’Twill do ye no good. I’ll let the mon go when I’m good and ready, and not a moment sooner.”

  “Not a good idea, Merry,” Ethan said, the nickname causing the ruddy flush on the man’s cheeks to scorch a path down his neck. “If Derek’s men get wind of what you’ve done, they’ll be at your door shouting for blood.”

  “And ye think I’m frightened of them?” Kerry sneered. “Ye are no true Highlander, with your fancy English ways. Ye should be ashamed to step foot on Scottish soil.”

  Rosalyn could tell by the tensing of Ethan’s shoulders that the barb had struck home, but his tone gave away none of his anger. “I’ll take that under advisement. Now, if you don’t mind, these ladies would like to see your captive. If you’d be so kind as to lead the way?”

  The laird of Clan Trelawny stood there bristling, his gaze measuring Ethan for a shroud as a muscle worked in his jaw. Finally he said brusquely, “Come.” He jerked his head toward the castle and walked away.

  Megan’s other brothers closed in around them as they were led across the bailey.

  Seventeen

  D ust motes danced in the sunlight as they stepped into the vast stone hall. The interior was dim, unlike Derek’s home, where the sun brightened every hallway and room. The castle harkened back to another time, when women dressed in kirtles and the men braided their beards and fed mutton to the hounds whining at their feet.

  “Charming,” Ethan muttered as they followed Megan’s brother down a winding corridor toward the farthest reaches of the house.

  “Right this way,” the laird said in a smug tone, waving them into a room with a dirt floor and weedy vegetation growing in the corner.

  Derek was still tied to a chair in the center of the room, his clothing torn and blood dotting the collar of his shirt.

  Rosalyn’s temper soared, and she advanced on Kerry Trelawny. “Untie him immediately!”

  Megan’s brother stared down at her with black, cold eyes, unmoved by her demands. “Ye’ll keep quiet if ye ken what’s good for ye.”

  “You can’t treat him this way.”

  “I can treat him anyway I please, considering what he did to my sister.”

  “What are ye goin’on about?” Megan demanded. “He didn’t do anything to me.”

  “Are ye blind, girl?” Kerry snapped. “Right afore your very eyes, he brings home another woman. He disrespected ye! He cares naught for his pledge to become your husband.”

  “He never pledged to become my husband! That was Papa’s idea, never mine, and certainly not yours. He can do whatever he likes with his life; he owes nothing to me. He never made me any promises, nor I to him.”

  “If ye were a true Trelawny, you’d never let such a slight go unpunished. Did ye know that your beloved has been sleeping with this woman?” He stabbed a finger toward Rosalyn and said, “Have ye no morals, girl, to be takin’ away another woman’s husband?”

  “Husband implies marriage, and that hasn’t taken place. So technically, both parties are free to do as they please,” Ethan pointed out.

  Kerry swung his pointed finger at Ethan. “You stay out of this.”

  Ethan raised his hands. “I’m merely stating the obvious. By the by, have you given the old boy any water today? If he dies, all of this effort would be rather pointless, don’t you think?”

  Kerry frowned, as though he had not thought of that possibility. He snapped his fingers and grumbled something at one of his brothers, who came forward with a pitcher of water. The man raised Derek’s head and proceeded to tip the pitcher to his lips. Liquid poured out the corner of Derek’s mouth until he started gagging and shaking his head.

  “Stop it! You’re going to drown him.” Rosalyn leapt forward to grab the pitcher from the man’s hands, but Kerry gripped her around the waist and lifted her feet f
rom the floor. “Let me down!” she demanded.

  “Stop fighting, ye cantankerous hellion,” he bit out, grunting when her booted foot connected with his shin. “Damn ye, woman. He’s fine. Look!”

  Rosalyn stopped struggling to find Derek’s eyes open and trained on her. “Derek,” she whispered.

  “Leave her alone, Kerry,” he said in a hoarse voice, “or I’ll snap your neck like kindling.”

  Kerry guffawed. “And how do ye intend to do that lad? I have the upper hand here, and that won’t be changin’ until you’ve done right by my sister.”

  “Blast ye, Kerry!” his sister cried. “Are ye daft? I don’t want to marry him. You don’t want me to marry him.”

  “I’m protecting ye from shame,” her brother retorted stiffly. “Ye should be thankin’ me. He will marry ye and make a respectable woman out of ye today, or by tomorrow he’ll be dead.”

  Rosalyn anxiously paced the antechamber she had been put in, a short distance from the solarium. Much to Megan’s shrieking protests, she and Ethan had been taken to another room and locked away.

  Rosalyn hugged herself and flopped down on the window seat, which was barren of any cushioning. The room was devoid of all furnishings, in fact, and dust had settled on every curtainless windowsill. Clearly the Trelawny brothers didn’t feel any frills were necessary. Poor Megan, growing up amid such a bunch.

  Rosalyn only hoped Megan and Ethan didn’t do each other in before rescue arrived. Certainly Darius would worry about their prolonged absence and send help?

  She didn’t know what to think. The word traitor kept running through her mind. It was hard to believe any of the loyal servants or members of his clan would plot against Derek. Could this have something to do with her? Caroline had warned her that people would not like her presence, but certainly none of them would have taken their anger out on Derek?

  Rosalyn rose from the window seat and paced the perimeter of the room. What was going on? What were they doing? She prayed Derek was all right.

  The door suddenly opened and one of Megan’s brothers stood there, a scowl on his rugged face. His hair was in desperate need of scissors, and his cheeks begged for a shave.