Mad for the Plaid

by Karen Hawkins

  She opened it quickly.

  Bring two hundred guineas to the Iron Kettle in Kylestrome. The prisoners will be released to you forthwith.

  That was all. The handwriting was awkwardly slanted, as if someone had used his or her weaker hand in an effort to disguise their handwriting.

  She pursed her lips. Forthwith, hmm? And not a misspelling to be seen. Whoever wrote this is educated.

  The village of Kylestrome was in the very northern outreaches of Mackenzie land, in the direction the abductors were taking the prisoners, so that made sense. But why is the note addressed to me and not Arran? It’s his brother who was taken, after all. And everyone knows Arran has more funds than all the Mackenzies put together. Perhaps Arran is trying to distance himself from the abduction in order to appear innocent of subterfuge?

  She frowned. She hadn’t expected a ransom note—indeed, she could have saved Greer the trouble of tracking the abductors had she thought they’d offer a chance to purchase the freedom of their captives. Perhaps this isn’t an attempt to cause a clan war at all, but a simple case of greed. But only two hundred guineas? Why not more? Or is it— Blast it, I’m more confused than ever.

  Her shoulders slumped as her thoughts swirled and then tangled. She’d been so sure Arran had been behind this abduction and now, in one second, her beliefs had been put into question. How do I make decisions for the good of all when I don’t know enough about—

  “Ailsa?”

  She blinked at Gregor and realized she’d been staring at the note for far too long. “Oh. I’m sorry.” She forced a smile and folded the note in half. “I was doing sums in my head.” She placed the note on the corner of her desk. “You know how distracting that can be.” Before he could comment further, she asked, “So what’s brought you to us? I thought you were wintering with the Earl of Argyll.”

  “Ay, yes. Argyll.” A shadow crossed Gregor’s face as he turned toward the fire, where he held out his hands to the warming blaze. “I left, and rather abruptly, too. I’m sorry I didn’t send word I was coming, but there was no time. I rode here; my coach and things should arrive shortly.”

  Ailsa shrugged. “You are always welcome here; you know that.”

  “Of course he is,” Lady Edana said firmly. “But still, you must tell us about your visit with Argyll.”

  Gregor looked bored. “There’s not much to tell. He’s devilishly short-tempered and dresses like a merchant.”

  “Yes, yes, but his daughter.” Lady Edana leaned out to grasp Gregor’s hand as if to hold him in place. “What about her?”

  Gregor flushed as he gently freed his hand from Lady Edana’s. “Ah yes. The most worthy Lady Agnes, of whom I’d heard much, turned out to be as pretty as a flattened mushroom and as intriguing as a dried leaf.” He feigned a shudder as he turned back to the fireplace, the flames reflecting in his boots. “No, thank you.”

  “It’s not about her prettiness or ability to fascinate.” Edana’s voice was uncharacteristically sharp. “Lady Agnes’s dowry is impressive, and you have need of a fortune.”

  “I don’t care what her dowry might be. If I must be chained for life, then it will have to be to a prettier and more lively post than that or I will die of boredom.”

  Edana, red-faced, her mouth set in a belligerent manner, snapped out, “If one needs the funds, one must—”

  “Of course, of course. And when things get desperate, perhaps I will return to Agryll’s house and court his daughter. But not today.”

  An awkward silence emerged between the two and Ailsa wondered how it was that her grandmother had been privy to the reason for Gregor’s visit with Argyll, when Ailsa hadn’t realized the import at all. She cleared her throat. “However it was that you came, Gregor, I’m glad you’re here.”

  He sent her a grateful look. “Thank you.”

  “Of course we are,” Lady Edana said, although a bit stiffly. “When you first arrived, I thought perhaps you’d come because of our misfortune.”

  “What misfortune?” Concern dimmed Gregor’s smile. “Uncle is not—”

  “Nae! ’Tis naught like that,” Ailsa said hastily, sending a dark look at Lady Edana. “’Tis a small situation, but one that will soon be resolved.”

  “We can only hope,” her grandmother interjected. “And it is not small at all. The Grand Duchess Nikolaevna is a very important person.” Lady Edana turned back to Gregor. “She was here, as my guest, and now she’s gone missing.”

  “Good God!” Gregor turned a worried face toward Ailsa. “You’ve looked for her, of course.”

  “Extensively. And we’ve a tolerable idea where she might be, too.” In a manner of speaking.

  “Tell Gregor all,” Edana said sharply. “Now that he’s here, he can assist us in the search.”

  “How?” Ailsa’s voice cracked a bit. It was irksome that her own grandmother didn’t seem to think her able to handle this situation without the assistance of a male.

  Edana waved her hand. “Your cousin hunts as if born to it. Your papa has said so himself many times.”

  Gregor nodded thoughtfully, as if he’d already given the matter the deepest consideration. “She has a point, cousin. Thanks to the hours and hours I spent tracking hares with Greer, I’m something of an expert.”

  “I was with you every one of those days,” Ailsa said drily. “And I’d call neither of us an expert.”

  “True, but we’re better trackers than most gamekeepers found today. Even your father noted my ability during the hunts we had before the weather turned, and he doesn’t care for me.”

  “Gregor, nae! Papa is quite fond of you.”

  “He tolerates me.” Gregor made a face. “I wouldn’t call it more than that.”

  “You’re exaggerating. Papa is nae the most demonstrative of men.” Which was an understatement, indeed. As much as she loved Papa, she knew he could seem quite cold to those who did not know him.

  Edana nodded wisely. “’Tis true, Gregor. Your uncle went the direction of his own papa, who had too much common sense and far too little emotion for my taste. It was a rare day when Cromartie allowed a smile to pass his lips. As for a laugh, I can think of only a dozen times I heard one.”

  Gregor’s expression softened. “That must have been difficult for you, for you are a burst of emotion and light.”

  “You flatterer!” Edana sent him an arch look, her earlier irritation already forgotten. “You are too kind. I’m glad you’ve come. Ailsa and I have been at wits’ end to decide how to proceed.”

  Ailsa’s jaw tightened. “That’s nae true. I’ve a verrah guid idea how to proceed.” I hope. But with Lady Edana’s words, Ailsa’s nagging worries returned in full force.

  Gregor’s gaze flickered over Ailsa’s face. “So this duchess has gone missing. How so?”

  “She and Lord Hamilton were abducted when on their way from here to his house. Their coach was found abandoned, the servants injured or missing.”

  “Good God!” Gregor’s eyes widened.

  “Indeed.” Ailsa hesitated, wondering if she should tell him everything, but the concern in his gray eyes banished her concerns. “In fact, the note you found by the front door was nae a bill, but a ransom note.”

  “What?” Edana gaped. “We were so sure there wouldn’t be one!”

  “Well, there is one. And it quite changes the way I think of this whole affair.” Catching Gregor’s confused look, Ailsa added, “We thought this incident might be of Arran’s making. He’s been after the grazing lands for decades.”

  “He’s a hawk, too, and enjoys shredding people in his talons.” Gregor’s brows lowered. “How much does the ransom note request?”

  “Two hundred guineas.”

  He frowned. “I expected more.”

  “So did I, which confirms that there’s some other reason for the abduction.”

  “Obviously,” Gregor agreed.

  “Fortunately, I have that much in the safe. I had planned to use it for improvements on
the tenants’ cottages this spring, but that must wait.”

  “Where do you deliver this ransom?”

  “An inn in Kylestrome, which is far north of here. I—”

  The sound of horses trotting up the drive made them all look toward the front window.

  “That must be Arran.” Lady Edana’s voice was heavy with dire prophecy. “I’m still not convinced he’s not behind this.”

  Gregor shrugged. “We’ll just explain the facts and he’ll be forced to accept it. At least publicly.”

  “It’s worse than you know,” Ailsa said. “Someone went to the trouble to implicate us in the abduction. A scrap of Mackenzie tartan was found under one of the wheels. It looks dire.”

  “Who would do such a— Ah. Arran, trying to cover his intentions.”

  “I thought so, but— To be honest, I dinnae know what to think. I fear if I showed the note in an effort to prove our innocence, he’d just say we wrote it ourselves. We are damned either way we play this.”

  “Bloody hell,” Gregor muttered, looking dark. “Who has done this to our family?”

  “I wish I knew.” She looked out the window, where they could now hear men’s voices, low and deep, though indistinguishable. “And now we must face the earl. I’d hoped for a week or more before this meeting. He must have been in his home seat, which is surprising, as he usually winters in London.”

  Gregor strode to the window, twitched back the long velvet curtains, and peered down. “That’s not Arran.”

  “Thank goodness,” Lady Edana breathed.

  Gregor leaned a bit closer to the window. “There are three men on horseback, but none of them wear the earl’s livery. They have extremely fine horses, too, quite unlike the plodders I last saw carrying Arran and that fat son of his.”

  Ailsa joined Gregor at the window. On seeing the men, she muttered under her breath, “The prince!”

  Gregor sent her a surprised glance. “Who?”

  “The duchess’s grandson, Prince Nikolai—I don’t remember the rest of his title.” Ailsa had to admit that the horses were spectacular; two bays and a white gelding, all of them heavily muscled and so beautiful as to draw every eye.

  Her gaze reluctantly went to the men. The prince looked just as she’d expected—he was tall, handsome, and wore an elegant fur-lined coat that was open at the neck and wrists to reveal a touch of lace. He sported a neatly trimmed beard and mustache that gave him a slightly foreign air, although the cut of his obviously expensive clothing was definitely not English.

  His expression was faintly haughty as he looked about the entry of Castle Leod, but he seemed far less antagonistic than she’d expected after bearing the brunt of his caustic letters. Her gaze flickered to the man riding beside him, who was taller, broader, and more heavily bearded—a bear of a man. Everything about him, from his neat uniform to his short, combed beard, shouted “military.” A royal guard, perhaps?

  She flicked a quick glance at the third man, obviously a groom. Dressed in the rough clothing of a servant, a heavy, worn-looking, and shapeless coat draped over his broad frame, he wore a muffler wound about his head that covered most of his face, precious protection from the cold that his companions hadn’t taken advantage of. Taller even than the others by several inches, he sat atop his magnificent white horse with a lithe grace that made her think of a large cat. A lion, no less. He must be riding one of the prince’s horses. Had she a horse like that, she’d have been loath to leave it behind, too.

  The groom dismounted and took his masters’ reins while they alighted. One of her footmen met them, and she let out an irritated sigh. “I don’t know why he’s come; I told him I’d send word once we knew something.”

  “I daresay he’s worried,” Lady Edana offered. “Her Grace spoke often of her grandson. I gather they were quite close.”

  That didn’t ring true with the dismissive tone of the prince’s correspondence, but Ailsa kept the thought to herself. “He’s here now, so I’ll have to speak with him.” She looked back out the window. “They are quite handsome, these foreigners.”

  Gregor’s gaze followed hers. “Prussians dress the same; fur-lined clothing, and very military-style fashions.”

  From behind them, Lady Edana commented, “I do so love a Prussian uniform. Nothing is quite so dashing.”

  Ailsa watched as the two guests walked toward the house, the groom following one of her footmen and leading the horses in the direction of the stables. As he passed under her window, he glanced up, his muffler falling from his face. Their eyes met and, to her surprise, he didn’t look away. Indeed, he stared, boldly and without hesitation.

  In her experience, servants did not boldly stare the way this man did. But what a man, though. Thick black hair framed the sort of face only a sculptor could create. Thickly lashed and slumberous dark eyes framed a bold and straight nose, his cheekbones high and proud, his mouth as brazenly perfect as the rest of him. While the others were bearded, he was not, his firm jaw clearly in view where not covered by the muffler.

  But it was his expression that held her attention. No one had looked at her in such a direct manner, as if she were a display at a museum created for no other reason than to be gazed upon and then—to her instant irritation—dismissed when he looked away, apparently disinterested.

  At Ailsa’s side, Gregor tsked. “The groom is bold for a mere servant, isn’t he?”

  “I would nae know. I was looking at the horses.”

  Gregor chuckled. “Ah, cousin, such a lie! I— Ah. There comes my coach. I’m glad to see it, as I’m sure our grandmother will insist I dress for dinner.”

  Gregor’s coach, a frivolous thing in shiny black with the Mackenzie crest over the door, and pulled by a matching set of grays that must have been too dear for a man of limited means, swept up the drive and pulled to a halt at the front door. A footman ran out to assist, and a man alighted, dressed in the sober clothing of a servant. “Who is that?” Ailsa asked.

  “My valet.”

  “What? Did Valjean leave you?”

  “Valjean had the ill manners to break his leg, so he sent a cousin in his stead. The man is named—” He bit his lip. “Good lord, what is the man’s name? I can never remember it. It is something with a lot of ‘r’s in it.”

  “He looks more like a prizefighter than a valet.”

  “He’s all thumbs, too. I shudder to think what my cravats look like now. But poor Valjean begged me to take him on, and was almost in tears while doing so, so I could not say no.”

  “You are a slave to your kindness.”

  He nodded glumly. “It is a curse.”

  A knock heralded the entry of MacGill. The butler bowed. “Your ladyship, the prince’s advisor and a guard have come to ask aboot Her Grace’s disappearance.”

  Ailsa couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. “So that was nae the prince? Is he following, then?”

  “Nae, Your Ladyship. Lord Apraksin was sent here by His Highness, who has taken ill and is unable to leave his bed. His Lordship brings with him the master of the guard, a Mr. Rurik, and a groom.”

  “How rude that the prince did not come himself!” Lady Edana declared. “If I am ever abducted, I hope someone from this family will go and see what’s happened to me, and not send some sort of servant.”

  “Never fear on that score,” Gregor said gallantly. “I would leave no stone unturned, ill or not.”

  Ailsa barely heard them. So the prince is using an “illness” to escape his duties, is he? She was not surprised and, actually, was a great deal relieved. It was one less complication in a situation already far too rife with them. “Very good, MacGill. Pray bring Lord Apraksin and Mr. Rurik to us here. And ask Cook to serve tea for five in the small sitting room in a half hour.”

  The butler, looking relieved to have been given some direct duties, bowed and left.

  Gregor turned a quizzical gaze her way. “What will you tell them?”

  “The truth. Or some of it. I’ll inform
them we’ve already set a plan in motion for the rescue, although I’ll provide verrah few details. Hopefully, that will be enough.”

  Gregor didn’t look convinced. “Perhaps we should share our information and ask for their assistance? They were both well armed, for I saw high-quality rifles and a brace of pistols strapped to each saddle.”

  Lady Edana looked up at this. “Oh dear. Do you think there will be violence?”

  “Of course nae,” Ailsa said soothingly, though Gregor didn’t look completely convinced. “Now that we have the ransom note, all we’ll need to do is deliver the funds to the proper place, and Lord Hamilton and Her Grace will be released.” That’s how it usually works, isn’t it? She longed to ask the question, but knew it could appear as a sign of indecision, so instead, she looked at Gregor. “It’s best if we handle this on our own.” Of that much, at least, she was certain.

  He started to argue, but a quick look in Lady Edana’s direction made him close his mouth and shrug. “As you wish.”

  A noise sounded outside in the hallway, and MacGill could be heard approaching. Ailsa smoothed her gown and checked her hair in the mirror over the fireplace. “Come. Let’s put on brave faces, for I’ll nae have it said the Mackenzies cower.”

  “Of course,” Lady Edana agreed, lifting her chin.

  Though Gregor nodded, he still looked concerned, a feeling Ailsa shared.

  It would take all her newfound skills to lead the family out of this mad coil, and she was determined to do just that.

  Chapter 4

  Dusk settled in, dulled by cold gray skies that carried the taste of more snow. Outside the stables, Nik placed his bucket of tools by his horse, D’yoval, who was tied to the paddock fence.

  The horse whickered softly as Nik patted the animal’s muscled neck. “Look at you, snorting at this cold. Have you been away from Oxenburg so long that you’ve forgotten how a proper winter feels?”

  D’yoval snorted as if outraged at the idea.

  Nik chuckled. “I thought not. Well, I found an apple, and you shall have it once Apraksin arrives to report on his findings. Hopefully that will settle your dislike for this damp chill.” It would have been nice to be able to meet his men in the stables, for it would have been warmer, but the other grooms were a loquacious group and were too enthralled with the horses—D’yoval in particular—to allow for privacy of any sort.