He balled his hands into fists. “He said it was only right to show Christian charity to a suffering man. He told Mother that the earl would pay once he finished his grieving. But then Father died and the war ended and the cattle—”
“I know. I heard that prices fell drastically after Waterloo .”
He nodded grimly. “I came home to find Rosscraig in shambles. Yer father had turned his land over to sheep farmers, sohe was sitting pretty down inLondon, but Mother and I refused to do that to our crofters.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he leaned forward, planting his hands on his knees. “We needed the money your father owed, and he didn’t give a bloody damn. I wrote him letters. He ignored them. I traveled to London to see him—”
“You did?” she said suspiciously.
He bristled. “You were at school then.”
“But he never said anything.”
“Haven’t you heard what I’m saying? Yer father’s a scoundrel—he’ll not tell you that he threw me from his house for demanding that he repay his loan.”
“I don’t believe you. Papa’s an honorable man; he would never do that.”
Her persistent faith in her father, despite what he’d told her, infuriated him. “Ask him and see what he says.”
“Let me go home and I will,” she shot back.
“Oh no, lassie,” he snapped, “you’re not going anywhere until yer father repays that money. Until he looks my mother and my clansmen in the eye and admits that he took advantage of my father’s friendship and the lack of papers—”
He caught himself, but it was already too late. Her pretty green eyes were sparking anew with temper. “Lack of what papers?” When he sat there mute, she said, “There’s no proof of this loan, is there? If there had been, you would have taken the matter to the courts. Your desperate mother trumps up this tale—”
“It’s the truth, damn you! Your father admitted it when I went to London !”
“Oh?” She folded her hands primly in her lap, the very picture of a lady who thought she was too good for the likes of the Ross clan. “What did he say?”
He stiffened. “That my father forgave the loan.”
“There, you see?”
“And when I demanded evidence of it, he had me tossed into the street. Because he knew he was lying.”
“Or he didn’t want to deal with an irrational fool demanding money.”
“Come now, lass, you’re no idiot—do you really think my father would forgive a thirty-thousand-pound loan? Because yer father was grieving?”
She swallowed. Clearly even Princess Proud could see it was unlikely. “But you still have no proof.”
“I have my mother’s word. Father may not have told her where he hid the papers, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Did you never hear how he died?”
Her eyes big and solemn, she shook her head.
“He went to help a crofter get his bull out of the burn, and the bull gored him. He was dead within minutes—nothing anyone could do.” He gritted his teeth. “And no chance to tell my mother anything, either.”
“But Lachlan —”
“If yer father isn’t guilty of this treachery, why has he never reported me to the authorities for robbing his friends? He must have known I was the one, taking what I needed since he wouldn’t give me what he owed. I know he knew—that’s why he sent men to kill me.”
Her expression hardened. “Even if I believed this tale about the loan, I couldn’t for one minute believe Papa capable of plotting murder. Why should he, if he knew who you were? Why wouldn’t he just have you arrested?”
“Because he knew what wrong he’d done, damn it!” Fury seized him. “Devil take you, lass, I promise you he sent men to kill me. Why do you think I can’t—”
He caught himself before he admitted his physical difficulties. Bloody hell, she was like a priest, she was, wheedling more from him than he should say.
“Can’t what?” she asked.
“Nothing. It’s between me and yer father.”
Her eyes turned cold. “Clearly, it’s not just between you and him, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“Blame him for that. If you’d been my daughter, I would never have let you set foot anywhere near the highways where the Scourge rode.”
Her lower lip trembled. “He thought you were dead.”
“And now he’ll know I’m not, won’t he?”
She jerked her head away to glance blindly out the window. “I suppose you’ll send a message to summon him to Scotland .”
“Aye. He should receive it in a few days. And there’s a note for yer aunt in Seton’s carriage, as well.”
“My aunt!” Her gaze swung back to him. “Oh no, she’s stuck on that mountain with the colonel! They’ll be waiting for me to come, and I won’t—”
“They’ll get down one way or the other. At the very least, Seton’s coachman will go look for them when they don’t return.”
She got dangerously quiet, clearly working through something in her head. “Colonel Seton is part of this, isn’t he?”
Holy Christ, she was too canny for her own good. “Are ye daft? I’d be a fool to conspire with a king’s soldier, wouldn’t I?”
“You were a king’s soldier.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sure that’s where you met the colonel.”
“I was with the Ninety-third in New Orleans, and he was with the Seventy-third on the Peninsula . So how the devil were we supposed to meet?” Of course, once the war ended, they’d both returned to Scotland, but he wasn’t about to point that out.
“Besides,” he went on, “a man like the colonel takes his service to England seriously. I just wanted to escape the Highlands . Joining the regiment seemed the best way.”
After a childhood of Father’s admonitions—to control his temper, swallow his pride, do as the kirk preached, and not drink whisky or consort with whores—it had seemed a relief to flee from home.
Especially after Father’s betrayal.
No, he wouldn’t think of that.
Besides, in the end Lachlan had returned.
After the Battle of New Orleans, where he’d watched hardened soldiers call out for their families while they bled out their lives on the field, he’d realized how fragile life was, how important things like home and hearth really were.
Tired of the wenching and gambling and empty pleasures he’d pursued whenever he wasn’t drilling or fighting, he’d sworn to live a better life, a steadier life. Tired of yearning for the Highlands, of missing the heather and the glens, the cry of the curlew on the moors, he had pledged to return to the Highlands and his clan. To make peace with his father.
He’d never had the chance. Father died before Lachlan reached home, and his vow to live a steadier life vanished in the wake of the disaster his father had left behind.
It was either save his estate and clan, or watch his crofters flee to Nova Scotia or Virginia like the others who could no longer scrape together a living in the Highlands . He should be thankful that his rigid father hadn’t lived to see him running illegal stills. Or riding as a highwayman to get funds for the equipment and barley. Or dragging an upstanding fellow like Colonel Seton into his activities.
“Colonel Seton isn’t part of this,” he repeated, determined to convince her. “He’s too good a man for that.”
“Then aren’t you worried about him sending the army out after you?”
“He can send out whomever he pleases—they won’t find us.”
“Then my father will send—”
“He won’t. Not when I have you.” He settled back against the seat. “And even if he does, I’m a hard man to kill, lassie. God knows yer father’s men tried. Best remember that the next time you want to sink yer teeth in me. Between the war and yer father’s treachery, I’ve no soft parts left. I’m rough as old timber, with a head solid as stone. Try to hurt me again, and I’ll make you regret it.”
She blanched, but didn’t yield. “Oh, don’t �
�fash yerself,’ sir,” she said, her tone heavy with mocking. “You’ve made it quite plain that the Lachlan Ross I knew, the one who would never hurt a woman, is no more. The Scottish Scourge killed him and took his place. And that scoundrel is capable of any villainy.”
The word “villainy” raised his hackles. He’d known she would react this way; he’d known she’d be as stubborn and sure of her lofty place as her father. But it still rankled to have her act as if he was in the wrong.
“Aye,” he said coldly, “I’m liable to do anything, my lady. As long as you realize that, we’ll get on just fine.” He leaned forward to fix her with his fiercest gaze. “Because you’re not going home until I say ye are. And that won’t be until yer bloody father comes to Scotland .”
“I tell you, something’s dreadfully wrong,” Maggie said as she paced the path beside where the colonel sat on a boulder.
He mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “See here, my lady—”
“Don’t try to deny it again. Venetia should have returned long before now.”
His frown seemed to concede the point. As well he ought—the sun sank lower by the moment, and they were still trapped on this cursed mountain.
At first, she hadn’t minded it. After Venetia had left, the colonel had grown surprisingly quiet, less outrageous than usual. He’d scarcely even flirted with her, and since he’d flirted constantly since the day she’d first met him and Lucinda at Mrs. Harris’s school, it was refreshing to have him refrain.
Well, not entirely. Try as she might, she did feel a twinge of disappointment.
What was she thinking? His flirtations were absurd for a man his age. The only reason he was behaving like a gentleman now was because of his pain.
She slanted a glance at his pale face. He must be suffering greatly. He’d allowed her to examine his heel, and she had cringed at the wicked scar that cleaved his flesh. A ball had shattered his heel, he’d told her, so the bones sometimes gave him pain if he stressed them too much. Why, it seemed a miracle he could walk at all.
Maggie sighed. How she wished they’d never gone on this outing. She didn’t want to know about the colonel’s suffering; it made it harder to dislike him.
And now Venetia was missing. “Do you think she has lost her way?”
“There’s only the one path. If she lost her way, she’s a fool.”
Maggie strode to the crest of the hill to look down again, but she saw nothing of her niece. “I shouldn’t have let her go alone,” she said as she came back. “If she doesn’t return before dark, she’ll never find us without a lantern.”
The colonel uttered a heavy sigh, then stood. “If it’s that worried ye are, then we should try to go back.”
“You needn’t come along. I’ll just go myself.”
“No, you won’t.” He wavered unsteadily on his feet. “If you’ll let me lean on you a bit, I can hobble down. I’ve had a long rest now—I should be all right.”
She hesitated, but she really didn’t wish to descend the mountain alone, especially when she wasn’t certain what had happened to delay Venetia . “Very well.” Hurrying to his side, she let him drape his arm about her shoulder.
It had been years since a man had done so, and the pleasure she took in the feel of his fit body astonished her. Alarmed her. Heavens, she was softening toward the old fool, and that wouldn’t do. She had no desire to wreck her perfectly comfortable life as a widowed countess by taking up with an aging soldier.
As if he’d read her mind, he said, “It was good of you to wait with me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better entertainment.”
“Nonsense. I don’t need entertaining. I’m a grown woman, for heaven’s sake.” She actually liked him better when he wasn’t trying so hard to amuse her. Usually, he did everything to excess.
They’d been walking in pained silence for an hour when they were met by the colonel’s coachman. He was alone, which struck her right to the heart.
So did the man’s cry as he approached and spotted his master’s limping walk. “God save us, sir, what has happened?”
“Have you not seen my niece?” she asked, her stomach sinking. “She was supposed to be fetching a horse for the colonel, who has injured his foot.”
The coachman shook his head. “I fell asleep on the perch, but I could hardly have slept through her taking a horse.” He reached into his pocket. “When I got worried about you and went to see if Lady Kerr’s walking stick was still gone, I came upon this. Perhaps it’s a note from the girl. It’s addressed to Lady Kerr.”
The colonel reached for it, but Maggie snatched it first, opening it hastily. What she read there made her blood run cold.
Mindful of the coachman’s curiosity, she pulled the colonel aside. “The Scottish Scourge has taken Venetia ,” she whispered. “Or someone claiming to be him, anyway. He’s supposed to be dead.”
“Yes, I read that in the papers. But the papers are sometimes wrong.”
Her chest hurt. “I should have known such a devil couldn’t be killed.”
“What else does the letter say?”
She thrust the note at him.
The colonel scanned it quickly, then met her gaze. “He won’t hurt her as long as you don’t speak to the authorities and send no one after her. He says he only wants what Duncannon owes him.”
“And you believe him?”
“Surely even a scoundrel like him wouldn’t kill a lady.”
“He doesn’t have to to destroy her life. Once people hear of this, she’ll be ruined. She’ll never be able to marry.”
“Then people mustn’t hear of it, must they?”
How could he be so calm and controlled when her niece was in such danger? Who knows what horrible things Venetia was suffering even now?
“You must send men after her,” she said hotly. “I don’t trust the Scourge not to hurt her. We must ride into Edinburgh at once and gather soldiers—”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Stop, lass, and think. They say the villain has eyes all over Scotland. If you amass an army to go after him, you only risk her life. And her reputation.” A frown knit his brow. “Thanks to my trouble on the mountain, he has quite a start on us. By the time we could reach town and organize soldiers, he’ll be halfway to the north.”
“The north? What makes you think he’s headed there?”
“I…well, people claim he’s from the Highlands .”
“Only because Lowlanders think all thieves come from the Highlands,” she snapped, then wondered why she bothered to defend her childhood home. “Do you really think that’s where he took her?”
“Damnation, lass, I don’t know. In any case, it doesn’t matter. Going after her could get her murdered, and I know you don’t want that. If it’s ransom he’s wanting, then he’d be a fool to hurt her. He says he’s sent a letter to London for Duncannon. So we should wait for the earl’s arrival in Scotland .”
She gaped at him, part of her convinced by his argument, part of her outraged that he’d even consider standing by and doing nothing. “I thought you were a man. What man refuses to act when a scoundrel has kidnapped a woman?”
Steeliness entered his gaze. “A smart and careful one.” At her expression, he muttered a foul oath. “Fine. If you want me to try getting her back, I’ll arrange for men to search secretly, without telling them what girl they’re looking for. But I’ll pick the men myself.” He squeezed her hand. “Will you trust me to do that for you, my lady?”
What choice did she have? He was right about the risk—the Scourge had murdered Lachlan Ross, so why balk at murdering Venetia? But the colonel had resources beyond her, and he had seemed eager to please her.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I’d be most grateful.”
“Good, I’ll arrange it at once. You go back to London, and—”
“I shan’t budge from Edinburgh until I know my niece is safe.”
His face clouded over. “You can preserve her reputation easier in London —tell people
you left her at her father’s estate.”
“No. I’ll claim that she’s ill—that’s good enough. No one in Edinburgh will pay attention to the absence of one woman with all that’s going on right now.”
“Now, lass—”
“Absolutely not.” She jerked her hand from his. “I’m staying here, and that’s final. So you’d best get used to having me around, Colonel. Because I mean to make sure that my niece returns in one piece, no matter what it takes.”
Chapter Seven
Dear Michael,
Lady Venetia, who’s been sending me daily accounts of the king’s visit, has stopped writing. I know she’s probably just too busy, but it isn’t like her to be so lax. I worry she has met some unsuitable Scottish fellow she won’t tell me about, and that has made me snappish.
Your woefully peevish friend,
Charlotte
Venetia had spent the past few hours in silence, hoping that the carriage motion might lull her companion to sleep and give her a chance to escape.
No such luck. Lachlan sat like a soldier, rigid and alert, keeping his gaze trained outside the window. What he was looking for, she couldn’t imagine. Enemies behind every bush? Lord knew he was cracked enough for that.
Him and his tale of abandoned debt! Papa was gruff and proud, but honorable. He would never renege on a debt, and he’d certainly never let his friends be plagued by the Scourge if he could stop it.
She scowled at Lachlan . To think she’d actually cried over his supposed death! Devious devil.
He’d always chosen the most reckless path. Running off to join the regiment when he was barely old enough to shave, riding the roads, and now this kidnapping. He didn’t think things through.
Did he really believe that nonsense about an unpaid loan? Or did he simply resent Papa for making his own estate profitable by improvements while the Ross clan slogged along in the old ways?
And even if Lachlan was right about the loan, how could it justify what he’d done? Why, his first kidnapping had been of her best friend Amelia and Major Winter, Amelia’s husband—another attempt to get money from Papa. If not for the major’s clever escape, who knew what might have happened to them?
Beware a Scot's Revenge Page 6