They halted the horses beside a river when the sun was high in the sky. Taking the soft bread and hard cheese from his saddlebag, along with a skin of wine, Ian sat down in the shade with his back against a tree.
Jamie flopped down beside him and tore off a piece of his bread. “Tell me about the light skirt that is staying at Newburn.”
“She is little more than a whore,” Ian said grimly, “although she is the Earl of Sherrington’s wife.” He went on to tell Jamie of his suspicions regarding her trysts with Wesley and how he, himself, almost came to duel with the earl.
Jamie listened in silence until he had finished. “She wanted her husband dead? A woman that is cunning enough to pit ye against her husband is dangerous.”
“Aye,” Ian replied, “but Newburn set her up to it. I think he hoped the earl would shoot straight and I would be the one turning up my toes.”
Jamie frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“He wants my land. Originally, it was part of his before King George gave it to our great-grandfather.” Ian hesitated. “He also wants to marry Jillian.”
Jamie choked on the last bit of bread he was chewing and hurriedly washed it down with some wine. “What? Does the English church allow a stepson to marry his mother?”
“I doona know. But it seems that this Prince Regent makes laws as he pleases,” Ian said. “It’s grateful I am that the countess has kept Newburn occupied.”
“What does Jillian have to say?”
“She says she will never marry.”
“Does the whore know of this?”
“I doona know. Why?”
“Well, ’twas clear as a summer day that the wanton was fair smitten with Newburn. If she thinks his affection lies elsewhere… We ken what hellcats can do.”
Ian became thoughtful. Did Delia know about Wesley’s boasting? Sherrington had been at the club that night. Would he have mentioned it? He doubted that Delia was the kind of woman who would share her lover, even though Jillian was totally innocent in all of this. Still… What if the shooting hadn’t been an accident? And the bullet wasn’t meant for him at all, but for Jillian? He rubbed a hand across his forehead. The arrow that had whizzed past them…that had occurred after the remarks Wesley had made at the club. Was that also an attempt on Jillian’s life?
Jamie took another swig of wine and handed the skin to Ian. “’Tis good wine.”
Ian stared at the skin as though mesmerized. “Wine.”
“Aye,” Jamie said with a grin. “Are ye entering your dotage that ye are looking at it that way?”
Ian shook his head. “Nae. I am thinking. Delia’s kindness to Jillian these past days…bringing her food, preparing draughts…last night, she poured the wine.”
“Aye,” Jamie said again, looking puzzled. “What is it ye are trying to say? The woman poured wine for all of us.”
“But she went for a new skin before she poured Jillian’s, and then she took it back to the kitchens. I thought that odd at the time since the servants normally do that.” He paused. “Jillian has been feeling ill when she should be fully recovered…”
Even as he said those words, the hair on his nape rose and his head nearly split as the kenning hit him like a broadsword. If Delia tried to get her husband killed in a duel, she wouldn’t stop at trying to do away with any competition for Newburn.
Ian leapt up, spilling the skin. “I should have seen this earlier. I’ve got to go back. I’ve left Jillian in a pit of vipers.”
Jillian groaned and clutched her stomach as she tried to find a comfortable position in the bed. Darcy wiped her brow with a damp cloth.
“Something is wrong, my lady,” she said. “You shouldn’t be having stomach pain because of a head wound.”
“It was probably the fish I had earlier,” Jillian said weakly as another spasm racked through her.
Mari turned away from the window where she was standing. “I had the fish too.”
“Then what could it be?” She closed her eyes as she cramped again and then opened them slowly.
“I think you’re being poisoned,” Darcy said.
Jillian widened her eyes even as Mari gasped in astonishment. “But who…why?”
“I would wager my best bonnet that it’s that she-devil who ought to have left when her husband did,” Darcy said firmly.
“Delia? But she’s been nothing but kind.”
Darcy nodded. “Exactly. Why did she suddenly become your friend?”
“She has a point,” Mari said as she came to stand by the bed. “Since when did that woman ever do anything that wasn’t to her advantage? I remember Maddie’s mother saying that the countess was nothing more than a contriving trollop. Of course,” she added hastily, “I wasn’t supposed to hear that. Maddie and I were hiding behind a tapestry in the parlor that day.”
Poison? The soup that Delia had brought when she came to apologize had been all right, but perhaps that was just a red herring. The question was why Delia would want Jillian dead. The answer came suddenly and Jillian felt her blood chill.
Wesley. Delia was clearly besotted by him. Ironically, Jillian had been grateful that the countess was always by his side. It made life for Jillian so much easier. If Delia thought he was stilling pursuing the marriage idea, or if she realized that Wesley still gave Jillian sly, leering looks when Delia wasn’t watching, she would be ruthless in obliterating her enemy. Even when the enemy kept herself well away from him.
Jillian shivered, even though coals burned brightly in the brazier near the bed. How could she have been so stupid as to trust that woman? Was Wesley collaborating with her? Jillian had rejected him. Would male pride demand that he get his revenge? Poison killed slowly if given in small amounts. Did he wish her to have an agonizing death?
How she wished Ian were here. She remembered the look he had given her this morning when he rode away. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he’d said. Would she still be alive? She longed to feel his powerful arms around her, holding her safely against his strong, hard body. She wished now that she had given in to her desires and let him pleasure her with slow, deep kisses and caresses that made her body tingle everywhere. But he was gone. She must do this on her own.
If she started getting her food directly from the kitchens and avoided what was placed in front of her, could she survive? Or would she arouse suspicions to such a point that Delia and Wesley would take other action? It would be only too easy to arrange an accident. Wesley had mentioned at dinner that the three of them take a ride tomorrow. Was the poison not working fast enough?
With an effort, Jillian pushed back the covers and sat up. “We must leave.”
“It’s night,” Mari said worriedly. “Where will we go?”
“To Cantford,” Jillian answered and tried to stand, only to slump back against the bed as another pang pierced her middle.
Darcy caught her. “My lady, you are in no shape—”
“I’ll be in worse shape tomorrow.” Jillian took a deep breath and slowly stood. “Help me to get dressed. Quickly. Before Delia comes to bring me another draught.”
Darcy set her lips in a thin line, but did as she was asked. Jillian gritted her teeth several times as the pain gripped her, but she remained silent. She could not let Darcy know how weak she really was.
“Can you get to the stables without anyone seeing you?” she asked the maid.
Darcy nodded. “One thing about the likes of the countess and Lord Newburn. They don’t take notice of servants.”
“Good. Have Finley saddle three horses and take them to the gates. Tell him he’ll need to distract the guard.”
“I can distract the guard myself,” Darcy said with a small smile, “but how will you get out of the house?”
“There’s a secret passage out,” Jillian answered. “The ancestor who built this house must have been an admirer of medieval castles. He had a hidden staircase put in.”
“Where is it?” Darcy asked.
Jillian hesitate
d a moment. “In the master chamber.”
Darcy’s eyes went round. “But that’s Lord Newburn’s room.”
“I know. We’ll just hope he and Delia haven’t gone to bed yet.”
“I don’t like it,” the maid said. “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait?”
“I don’t think we can afford to,” Jillian answered. “Now go…and be careful.”
She took Mari’s cold hand. “Are you ready? We must be very quiet.”
Her sister nodded, although her face was white and her eyes huge.
They slipped out into the hallway and proceeded up the stairs to the third floor where Wesley’s room was. Jillian paused in front of the door, listening. There was not sound from within. If she were lucky, Wesley would be in Delia’s room, not paying any attention to the rest of the household. She put her hand on the doorknob and twisted it slowly, hoping the door wouldn’t creak in case Wesley were in there.
The door jammed. Jillian muttered an unladylike curse under her breath.
“Good evening, your lordship, your ladyship!” Darcy’s voice rang up the stairwell from below.
Dear God! Ian and Delia were on their way up here. How could Jillian explain her presence on the third floor? Frantic, she lurched against the door with her shoulder, ignoring the pain to her arm. The door flew open and she stumbled through, pulling Mari along.
She could hear the footsteps climbing closer. Quickly, she shut the door and went to the far wall and ducked behind the tapestry. Her hands felt for the slight seam that would indicate where the door was. Outside, in the hallway, Wesley laughed at something that Delia said.
“Hurry,” Mari whispered from behind her.
“I’m trying,” she whispered back, all too aware of the sound of the doorknob being turned. She almost cried with relief when she found the seam, Crouching down, she felt for the wood plank in the floor that would be loose. She lifted it and pressed the release lever and the door swung inward. A gush of cool, damp air wafted up, just as Wesley entered the room.
Jillian held her breath. If he noticed the bulk in the tapestry…
“What is that nasty smell?” Delia asked as the dank air flowed into the room.
“The only thing I smell is your lust,” Wesley answered and then there was the sound of clothing rustling and the bed creaked as the illicit lovers sank into it.
Slowly, Jillian let out her breath and tugged at Mari’s hand silently. They stepped into the dark stairwell and she pushed the door shut, hoping the small click that it made wouldn’t be noticed.
Even as she took the first step down, she heard the sound of a hand slapping flesh and Delia’s stifled scream as more slaps followed.
“What are they doing?” Mari asked in hushed tones.
Jillian shuddered, recalling all too well how those slaps had felt when Rufus dispersed them with the strap.
“You don’t want to know,” she said.
Ian slowed the horses to a walk as they approached the entrance that led to Newburn Hall. He wasn’t concerned about getting past the guard at the gatehouse for he planned to tell him that they had simply turned back. He wasn’t sure though that Newburn or that whore-bitch would believe him. Newburn had made it quite clear that Ian was to go to his own place when he did return.
“Ye remember what to do?” he asked Jamie for the fourth or fifth time.
“If ye ask me again, I shall knock ye on your arse,” Jamie replied.
“Just tell me,” Ian growled.
“I am responsible for getting the maid and Mari safely to Cantford,” Jamie replied, “though I doubt the ungrateful lass will thank me for separating her from her sister.”
“Doona matter. If ye have to throw her over your shoulder, do it.”
“Hmmm. I hadna thought of that, big brother. Do ye think she might be impressed with my braw ways?”
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Ian would have laughed. His brother was trying to sound as if he didna care, but Ian couldn’t remember a time when a lass had actually turned Jamie down. “Just be careful she doona kick ye where it wilna matter if she be impressed or not.”
Jamie grunted. “I still doona know why I canna come with ye. The girl will be safe enough at your place.”
“Perhaps. But I doona want to leave my lands without a Scot to oversee them. The staff seemed friendly enough, but I have done naught to build their trust in me yet. ’Tis why I need ye there.”
Ian turned to look up at the house. Convincing Jillian to come to Scotland with him wasn’t going to be easy. It went against every one of Society’s proper rules and, though Jillian had made some concessions in that regard, leaving with an unmarried man would ruin her reputation, even though she was a widow. Ian planned to squelch that scandal by marrying her upon their return. He would do it in Scotland, but he wanted everything to be legal under English law. He knew it was important to Jillian that the blasted ton know that she wasna a scarlet woman.
Laughter wafted down the driveway from the gate. Peering into the darkness with only the slight sliver of a new moon, he tried to make out what was happening. A woman who looked suspiciously like Darcy was enticing the guard away from the gate to take a walk. Ian cursed. Of all the times for the maid to take to meandering off for a tryst… Jillian was ill and all alone with Newburn and that unscrupulous witch. He lifted the reins, about to yell the Macleod battle cry and charge forward to storm the house in a full Highland-style raid, when Jamie’s iron grip on his forearm stayed him.
“We doona have time to dawdle, brother.”
“I know. But something is moving by the gate.”
Ian squinted, wishing for a full moon. Three large objects loomed out of the darkness and then he heard the muffled sound of a horse stamping its hoof. He watched as two hooded riders led another horse towards the woods nearby. Moments later, he saw Darcy racing across the small clearing towards them. He looked back at the empty gatehouse and saw a man move back into the shadows. He nudged his stallion forward and saw the master of horse making his way back to the stables.
“Finley.”
The man turned and then hurried toward him. “My lord, it’s glad I am that you returned.”
“What goes on?”
Finley shook his head. “I don’t know for sure. The maid came to me and said Lady Newburn wanted three horses saddled and no one to know. She didn’t look good when she came to the barn. I told her she was not fit to ride—”
Ian didn’t wait for the man to continue. He turned his horse and kicked him to a full gallop, riding after the woman he loved.
Jillian clutched the pommel of the saddle, thankful that she was riding astride, for it allowed her to bend over the horse’s neck and keep from falling when the spasms came. The deer trail they followed through the woods was narrow and winding, but she dared not take the main road so close to the house. She just prayed Wesley would remain occupied until they were well away. With luck, he wouldn’t realize she was gone until morning and they would be safe at Cantford.
“These branches are tearing my dress,” Mari complained.
“That’s the least of our worries,” Jillian chided her.
“But it’s the only thing I have. We didn’t have time to pack.”
She sounded almost petulant now that they had made it out of the house undetected. Mari was not used to riding and the lateness of the hour was making her tired and irritable. Jillian tried to keep her own irritation out of her voice. “I’m sure Mrs. Ferguson can find something for you to wear until we can have some gowns made. I’m just grateful we were able to get out.”
At once, Mari was contrite. “I’m sorry, Jillie. I didn’t mean to complain. I—”
“Shhh!” Darcy said suddenly, and both of them turned to look at her in surprise.
“What is it?” Jillian asked in a half-whisper and strained her ears.
“It might be nothing, but I think we’re being followed,” Darcy answered. “I’ve heard branches breaking behind us.”
“We must keep moving,” she whispered back and resisted the urge to make her horse trot. It was too dark and the way too obscure to risk endangering the horse. She just prayed whoever was behind them could move no faster either.
They continued in silence for excruciating long minutes. Jillian was beginning to wonder if she had taken a wrong turn somewhere and was leading them in circles when they finally broke through the trees and on to the road that led to Cantford. Ignoring the cramps that still continued, she urged her horse to canter. They’d soon find out if they had been followed or if some animal had been hunting.
Jillian barely finished the thought when the clatter of horse’s hooves sounded behind them. She leaned forward, giving the mare her head and the animal leapt into a full gallop. She glanced once over her shoulder to make sure Mari was holding on tight and then directed her attention to the road. They were still a good mile from Cantford. Could they outrun whoever Wesley had sent?
The sounds grew louder. She thought she heard someone yell for them to stop. It sounded like Ian, but that was ridiculous. He was a day’s ride north of here. She was imagining him or maybe the poison had taken effect on her wits as well.
“Faster!” she called to her horse and the animal stretched flat out. Still, the noise behind her didn’t decrease. It became louder as her would-be captors caught up. Her mare was beginning to slow, her sides heaving and her breath huffing. Jillian didn’t dare push her harder. She knew she had to slow down when the mare stumbled.
It took only a moment more for the band of men to surround them. She felt a strong arm reach around her waist as she was pulled from her horse and across the rider’s lap. This was it then. She was caught. She lifted her head to look the man in the eye.
Rogue of the Highlands: Rogue, Book 1 Page 25