The Wish Club

by Stella Cameron

  Nearby Max saw one of the wards the countess mentioned. He didn’t know her name, but she was a redhead in a red dress and she gazed adoringly into the rheumy eyes of an elderly, white-haired gentleman in military regalia who swayed at her side and seemed intent on peering down the front of her gown.

  “Very well,” the countess cried. “Come here, my dearest Hermoine. Come along, come along. Here she comes. Isn’t she an angel? Such a lovely, innocent creature, but I cannot keep her for myself forever, so tonight I must be happy to announce her engagement to Max Rossmara, whom you all know and love. Max, I see you there. Come along and let us all raise a glass in a toast to our two lovebirds. Will you also join us Viscount Hunsingore?”

  “We’re getting out of here,” Max whispered. He feared for the countess’s health if he remained another moment.

  “Go up there,” Kirsty said, and she would not move. “Go and allow the people t’drink your health.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Do it. Do it, or you’ll be the fool in front of everyone. And your family will suffer, too. Go, Max.”

  “I tell you, I cannot.”

  “If ye don’t, I’ll never speak t’ye again.”

  He saw how pale she was, how the light had gone out of her. She really believed he would accept Lady Hermoine as his wife.

  A hand slipped into his, twined fingers with fingers, and he found that he stood beside the very woman he wished he might never encounter again. “Isn’t this exciting?” Hermoine said. “The countess has always had a flair for the dramatic. I had no idea she’d planned such an announcement. Smile, darling. Smile so everyone will know how delighted you are.”

  “Smile,” Kirsty murmured. “I’m smiling, and I’ll raise a glass. It’s for the best, Max. Please.”

  An excited hush had fallen, but gradually people started to whisper. Kirsty stood a little apart from him, her eyes downcast. Because of him, she was being humiliated. He must get her away from here.

  A woman’s scream shocked the company to utter silence. Another scream followed, and a man’s shout of, “Stop him!”

  From the corner of his eye he saw a movement. Kirsty saw it, too. Niall Mercer, his face stark, made his way toward them, and against his thigh he held a knife.

  More screams rose, and a swelling buzz of other voices.

  Max made to put Kirsty behind him, but she evaded his grasp and all but ran to her brother. She reached him and put her arms around him, and spoke close to his ear. Niall shook his head violently, but Kirsty continued to talk, and Max saw when the young man got his rage under control.

  With marked caution, several men began to close in. Max cried, “Leave them be.” Kirsty would never forgive him if he did anything to hurt her brother.

  Holding his sister’s hand, Niall bowed his head and let her lead him from the room.

  “Let them go,” Max ordered loudly. “I’ll deal with him outside.” He made a motion to follow, but the company had quickly lost interest in a peasant intruder and closed in about him and Lady Hermoine.

  While the drums rolled again, they stood together, Hermoine gripping his hand so hard his fingers hurt. He strained to see Kirsty and Niall, but they must already have left the ballroom.

  “You will not come to me, so I must come to you,” the countess shrieked, breaking from the crowd into the space that had formed around Max and Hermoine. Max’s father arrived at almost the same time, and there was nothing but concern in Viscount Hunsingore’s eyes. The countess loudly announced, “Let us drink to the health of the future Mr. Max Rossmara and Lady Hermoine Rossmara.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Niall, stop! Stop, now. Where are we going?” The instant they had fled the ballroom, with its loud buzz of excited conversation, it had been Niall who assumed the lead, rushing Kirsty down the front steps of The Hallows and around to the side of the house, to a stand of pines. They hurried into the cover of the trees, and she recognized the small mare Max had given her to ride.

  She saw at once that the animal wore a bridle, but no saddle. “Niall, will ye speak t’me, please. This is no’ the answer t’anythin’.”

  “It’s the answer t’gettin’ ye away from that villain. He’ll pay. I’ll make sure he pays for the terrible thing he did t’ye in there. Makin’ ye a spectacle so they all watched ye dance. Then lettin’ ye be set aside.”

  “He didn’t do anythin’. Circumstances couldna be controlled.”

  “He’s a voice. An’ legs. He could ha’ turned away from them all. But he’s one o’ them, and they cling t’their own.”

  “He was as confused as I was. As confused as ye are. And now ye’ve made the bigger fool o’ me. I should ha’ stood my ground wi’ my head high. Now they all think I’m pinin’ and runnin’ away.”

  Niall gripped her waist, and she struggled. “We canna ride like this, w’out a saddle.” He ignored her and with no concern for her beautiful gown, plunked her on the horse’s bare back. He scrambled up behind her, and Kirsty was certain his boots must drag the ground. He breathed in rasping sobs, and she felt how shudders passed through him.

  “On wi’ ye, foolish creature,” he told the mare, jerking and flailing his feet. “On wi’ ye, I say.”

  The animal trotted forward and Kirsty could see Niall’s feet flying high and driving back against its flanks. As far as she knew, he’d never ridden before; he’d certainly not had the benefit of careful instruction from Max.

  She would not cry.

  How could she ever have imagined that the end of their tale would be any different? Now was the time to go onward and make the best of whatever came her way.

  In the trees, darkness was almost absolute. When they emerged to open ground there was but a little more light. The moon hid behind layers of cloud and gradually grew more dim. Kirsty smelled an approaching storm.

  “Damn them all,” Niall railed. “I’ll kill them, for this.” His boots rose and fell, and despite the weight of the inexperienced riders on her back, the mare made a valiant attempt at more speed.

  Fear gripped Kirsty’s throat. Her young brother wasn’t himself. His impotent anger had overcome his reason.

  She could tell they headed north. “Niall, will ye listen t’me, please?”

  “I’ll no’ listen to a foolish wench wi’ no sense. Moonin’ after a man who wants ye for nothin’ but a boon t’his lust. I’ll kill him for it, I tell ye.”

  “Ye’re no’ yoursel’,” she told him, grappling to wrench the reins from him. “Let me, Niall, before ye murder the horse and kill the two o’ us.”

  He was too strong for her. “I’m takin’ ye where he’ll no’ find ye.”

  “Where’s that?” she asked, her heart pounding.

  “I’m takin’ ye there, then I’m away back t’kill him.”

  For the first time since they’d left The Hallows, Kirsty felt mortally afraid. “If ye kill him, ye’ll kill me,” she told him.

  “Ye’ll get over him,” Niall said. He coughed, and coughed, and fought to catch his breath. “Ye’ll meet one o’ your own and forget Rossmara. Please God, help me do what I must do.”

  Riding sidesaddle—minus the saddle—Kirsty squirmed within her brother’s arms. “I want ye t’let me down, Niall. Ye’re frightenin’ me.”

  He took a hand off the reins and forced her back into position.

  Dutifully doing what her rider seemed to want, the mare veered to the right. Niall cursed and gained his full grip on the reins again.

  “Where are we going?” Kirsty cried, clutching Niall’s sleeves. “Please tell me, Niall.”

  “I canna.”

  “Why?”

  “Because ye’d fight me the harder if I did.”

  • • •

  There was only one place they’d go, Max thought, home to their parents.

  “Come back,” Struan said, striding behind him past stalls in the Kirkcaldy stables. Horses shifted and nickered on both sides of them. “You’ve insulted the countess and Lady
Hermoine. We should go back and beg forgiveness—plead a case of the nerves. Anything.” They’d returned to the castle in the same carriage. All the way Max had listened to his father’s pleas for “common sense.”

  “The countess was warned not to announce a betrothal to which I had not agreed. She thought that if she announced it in a public forum, I would bend. She was wrong.”

  “The countess is a foolish woman. But the fault is as much yours.”

  “How so?” Max entered the tack room and hefted down his saddle.

  His father reached for another saddle. “You flaunted your feelings for Kirsty Mercer in front of everyone. You danced like a man possessed and drew the attention of everyone in the room.”

  “You don’t need a saddle,” Max said. “You’d best go back to the lodge and get some rest. I expect we’ll be besieged with visitors from The Hallows come morning. We shall all need our wits about us.”

  “I’m coming with you. Regardless of the decisions I’d rather see you make, you are my son, and I stand with you.”

  Max faced his father. “No. No, you are not coming with me. Thank you, but I know what I have to do, and I’ll do it alone. It cannot be done in any other manner.”

  “I should like to be at your side.”

  His father meant what he said, Max would never question that. “Knowing that you want the best for me will give me strength. But if you were in my shoes, you would not do this differently.”

  Struan, Viscount Hunsingore, replaced the saddle and faced Max, his almost black eyes inscrutable. “You’re right. I would not do it differently. I would have fought dragons for your mother—and I would have accepted no man’s help. But I ask you one last time to reconsider.”

  Max carried his tack to his horse and saddled him.

  “Max?”

  “No. And if you could be honest, you would admit that you wouldn’t respect me if I did reconsider.”

  His father laughed, a hollow sound. He said, “You have me there. I fear for you, but I applaud you. Even if I could turn my back on you, your mother would never forgive me. I assure you I have no intention of risking such an unspeakable fate.”

  Max mounted and turned the Thoroughbred toward the yard. “Trust me to do what is right.”

  Looking up at Max, his father told him, “God go with you, my son.”

  • • •

  Clouds finally snuffed out the moon completely, and within minutes the first large raindrops fell.

  “Where are we going?” Kirsty asked yet again. Niall had been silent for a long time while the mare made slower and slower progress in a northerly direction. “Please answer me. It grows so late, and I dinna know where we are. I’m scared, Niall. Please listen t’me.”

  He urged the horse onward.

  Soon the raindrops fell faster and thicker. A wind picked up and drove the rain sideways to cut through the flimsy stuff of Kirsty’s bodice. Her voluminous skirts began to sag and cling to her limbs. They’d traveled perhaps two hours, but Kirsty didn’t think they’d covered much ground.

  “I will kill him,” Niall muttered.

  Kirsty shook her head and wiped rain from her face. “Ye aren’t yoursel’. And ye are wrong-headed. Max hasna done anythin’ t’hurt me. I’ve made my own decisions. He’s no’ forced me at all.”

  “If he hadn’t spread his enticin’ promises before ye like gold before a beggar, ye’d be at home wi’ all o’ us yet.”

  “Where are we going?” Kirsty came close to screaming at Niall. “Ye must know.”

  He pulled the horse to a halt.

  Kirsty tried to see something familiar. There was nothing. She was drenched now, and chilled. “Niall—”

  “I dinna know, I tell ye,” he said, his voice breaking. “I dinna know where we are, or where we’re goin’ except t’the north and the sea, where I’ve always heard it said a man can earn his way fishin’. All I know for certain is that we’ve got to be away from this place. We’ve got t’be where I can do for ye what he wouldna. I’ll work and make a place for ye, and ye’ll never know want or shame again. And I’ll find a way t’let our parents know we’re all right.”

  With a heart that swelled with sadness, Kirsty caught her brother’s dripping hands and brought them to her cheek. From when he was a wee laddie he’d talked about fishing in the north. She kissed his big knuckles, and said, “Ye’re the best brother a girl ever had. Please God we can get us safely out of this place.” Then she’d concern herself with trying to put things right for both of them.

  A sound reached Kirsty, a sound that terrified her much more than not knowing where they were.

  “Someone’s coming,” she cried to Niall. “Following us. How can that be?”

  Hoofbeats, at first distant but rapidly growing closer, warned that a rider approached at high speed.

  Niall drove his heels into the mare’s sides. She whinnied, but didn’t move.

  “Hold still,” Niall said into Kirsty’s ear. “Mayhap he’s just passin’ this way and he’ll no’ see us.”

  “The lone horseman, d’ye think?” Kirsty asked, her heart thudding so hard she opened her mouth to breathe and try to quiet herself.

  The man on the other horse wasn’t just passing this way, or if he was, he’d sighted them. Kirsty strained to see around Niall as a big beast bore down on them, its rider bent over its neck.

  “Kirsty? Kirsty, is that you?”

  “Go back, Max,” she shouted the instant she heard his voice. “Turn about. I don’t need your help!” Then, more quietly to her brother, she used a calming voice. “It’s all right, Niall. I’ve told him t’go, see. We’ll no’ worry about what he’s in his mind. We’ll just wait for him t’leave again. Don’t say anythin’ or do anythin’.” She knew she babbled but couldn’t stop the tumble of words.

  Niall’s response was to leap from the mare’s back and stand close to her head. “Ye’re the one t’say nothin’,” he said to Kirsty. “Leave it all t’me.”

  The night became a frantic blur of rain and flying mud, of angry voices and the spatter of lather from the powerful beast Max rode. Kirsty put her hands over her ears and fought down the panic that gripped her stomach and pummeled her temples. Niall was no match for Max. He had his knife, but Max might well have armed himself with a pistol.

  “Ye had t’follow,” Niall said in as close a thing to a sneer as Kirsty had ever heard from him. “Ye couldna just let her go, even though ye’ve torn her good name apart in front o’ the whole countryside.”

  “I want you to be silent, cub,” Max said, jumping to the ground. “And be grateful if I don’t thrash you for bringing Kirsty out in this. If she sickens, God help you.”

  “How did ye find us?” Niall said, his voice different, distant. “Ye couldn’t know we’d made it away, so how did ye come here?”

  “I owe you no explanation. But you weren’t at your parents’ home, and Robert told me you’d always spoken of the north and making money fishing. Then I discovered the mare was gone. The rest was luck, luck that I chose the right path, in this direction first, and luck that the mare couldn’t possibly carry two people far.”

  He pushed Niall aside and reached to take Kirsty from the animal.

  “Ye’ll no’ touch her again,” Niall shouted. “Take your filthy hands off her now.”

  Max’s fingers closed about her waist and he lifted her into his arms.

  Niall seemed to dance before them. He spread his arms and bellowed his rage and his disbelief.

  With fury a silent force that Kirsty felt in his hard body, Max carried her, and set her upon his own mount. “Your parents are beside themselves with worry over both of you,” he said, and Kirsty’s heart soared. “I had to stop Robert from coming with me. They want to know you’re safe.” He flung the reins across the horse’s neck and put a boot in the stirrup.

  “What the blazes?” He flailed and swayed backward as Niall grabbed him. “Damn you, Mercer, for the fool you are. Let go, d’you hear me? Let go.”<
br />
  Laughter, Niall’s hysterical, scaling laughter, caused Kirsty to come close to vomiting. She gulped air and began to slide from the horse. Despite her efforts to steady herself, she failed and landed on her hands and knees in rock-strewn mud.

  Cries rent the soaked night. Niall’s broken yells that verged on screams, and Max’s shouts for his assailant to come to his senses. The two hit the ground together.

  “Stop it!” Kirsty drew up her skirts and circled the squirming mass of arms and legs. “Stop it, I tell you. Get up. Please, get up.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” Niall promised Max.

  The flash Kirsty saw fulfilled her nightmare. Niall had managed to draw his knife. Max grabbed for Niall’s wrist and held the knife hand above his head. Niall was strong, stronger than Kirsty had known, and with the righteous anger that drove him, he was stronger yet.

  The two men rolled over, and over again. Niall rose on top. With his left hand he found Max’s throat and squeezed while he struggled to wrest his right wrist free.

  Max made a gurgling sound.

  “Let him go,” Kirsty screamed. “Niall, let him go.” She made a dash at her brother, but even in the madness he saw her coming, and kicked at her. He kicked her hip and sent her sprawling, the wind knocked from her. Pain burst from the blow.

  “Niall—”

  Again they rolled over, and Niall lost his hold on Max’s throat. Slowly, but surely, Max forced his foe’s knife hand toward his body. Kirsty saw when the point of the blade turned toward her brother’s chest, saw when it inched down, down, and came to rest there.

  She could do nothing. She could not even cry out. With rain beating into her face, she stood with her arms hanging at her sides. Feeling receded from her limbs, and from her brain.

  “Drop it,” Max said, loudly, but evenly. “You have no cause to make trouble with me, Niall Mercer. I have always been your friend, your family’s friend. Drop the knife.”

  Kirsty took a shaky breath, and said, “Do as he says, Niall. Quickly.” Except for the glint of his eyes, she couldn’t see her brother’s face. “Do it!”