An Inconvenient Wife

by Caroline Kimberly

  “Aye,” the man said, spitting on the ground. “But the food ain’t fit for pigs. My wife has just made a pot o’ mutton stew. It ain’t fancy, but it’s warm and fillin’. Yer welcome to some. Name’s Cade MacKenzie.” He turned and yelled into the door, “Ioan. Garrick. Tend the horses.”

  Grif thanked the man and slid off his horse. Two youths close in age scrambled out of the house and up to the small party. Grif handed his reins to one of the lads, who cooed at the horse.

  “He’s a beaut, this one. Wha’s his name?” he asked, stroking the horse’s muzzle.

  “Lucifer. I’m Grif.”

  “Garrick,” the lad said. “And tha’s me younger brother Ioan.”

  Grif glanced at Garrick’s father, then back at the boy. Something told him the younger MacKenzie would be more forthcoming. Amid the clatter of hooves and the men dismounting, he asked quietly, “Tell me, Garrick, has a young lady stopped here recently? Small and slender. MacKenzie hair. Pretty eyes.”

  Garrick shook his head, eyes beaming. “No, sir. I’ve got a good memory for the lassies. Especially those wi’ pretty eyes.”

  Grif pressed a few coins into the boy’s hand and nodded, trying not to feel discouraged. Things would look better after a warm meal. Following Ioan and Garrick, he and Thomas and Conroy took turns at the rain barrel washing some of the grime from the road off their hands and faces. Dreyfus just scowled. He’d managed to stay relatively clean despite the mud—probably because he rode so slowly.

  Grif and Thomas left the other two to attend to nature and trudged to the front of the house. Three more riders, two men and a boy, were just pulling into the courtyard. They dismounted, looking as weary and hungry as Grif’s own little band. Ioan and Garrick immediately dashed up to take the horses, chattering with the men. Apparently they knew the older two. The boy hung back, head bobbing only when someone directly addressed him, his hat covering what no doubt was dark red MacKenzie hair.

  Eyeing the beardless boy, whose true age lay hidden behind the layers of filth and dirt that covered him from his hat to his shoes, Grif was struck by how much the lad’s mannerisms reminded him of Riley Deverill. Grif sighed. The hunger and stress were getting to him, he mused. No doubt most of the folk in this part bore at least a partial resemblance to his late friend.

  Ioan led the boy’s stallion past them. Grif slowed to eye the great beast as it trotted smartly by. A nice piece of horse flesh, particularly for these parts. And that dignified canter spoke of exceptional breeding and training. It reminded Grif of a good-looking yearling Dev had been training to race before they’d left for the Continent. The horse had been too green to take into battle, and Riley had been quite disheartened at leaving him behind.

  What was the beast’s name again? Deplorable that he couldn’t remember something as important as the name of his best friend’s favorite horse. It was something godlike...Hermes or Apollo, if he remembered correctly, because of his speed—

  Grif’s heart jumped. Riley’s favorite horse. It couldn’t be. He turned to get a better look, but his vision was blocked as Garrick trotted by with the other two horses. Grif craned his neck, but the horse was already out of sight behind the house.Slowly, Grif turned back to the newcomers. Cade MacKenzie was pointing at him; the two men were looking at him with something akin to alarm. Something like panic flashed in the boy’s wide coffee-colored eyes.

  Very pretty eyes.

  They stared at each other, completely frozen, assessing each other for the space of a few heartbeats. Grif’s heart thudded wildly in his chest. Fate seemed to be with him today. Seemed to be, he reminded himself, because while he had found her, he had yet to catch her. Not necessarily an easy task.

  An instant later his feet were charging after her of their own volition. She happened to find her own feet at the same instant and was tearing up the road. Her speed almost surprised him. It would have surprised him if he hadn’t spent most of his childhood chasing after her, usually to tan her wretched hide. She was still a nimble little sprite; fortunately for Grif, he’d always been one of the few who could catch her.

  Grif flew past Thomas at breakneck speed, heedless of the muddy terrain. He vaguely heard Thomas grumble, “What the devil, Grif?”

  “The lad is Dev’s sister!” he bellowed.

  He was almost across the yard, gaining ground quickly, when he realized her two companions hadn’t moved. That probably wasn’t good. Worse, Cade MacKenzie had stepped out to join them. A few more strides and the larger one plowed hard into him, fists flying. The second wasn’t far behind. As they crashed to the muddy ground in a heap of fists and elbows and knees, he heard Thomas thundering up to tackle MacKenzie.

  Grif landed a few good hits, though he did seem to be taking his share, as well. God, he hated an unfair fight. And where the hell was Conroy? He was the hired thug, after all. Grif managed to shove his fist into the larger man’s gut, forcing most of the air from him in a loud whoosh. He turned his attention to the smaller man, giving him a hard knee to the groin. Normally he disliked fighting dirty. In this case, he chose to make an exception.

  He pulled himself up and turned, looking for his quarry. At that moment, the big Scot lunged at him again. Thomas, however, tackled the brute from the side. The two went down, rolling in the mud.

  “Grif, she circled around back!” Thomas shouted from beneath the bigger man. Grif heard a solid thud, followed by a groan, and realized his friend had probably come to the same conclusion about fighting dirty.

  Racing back to the stables, Grif saw Garrick MacKenzie holding Apollo’s reins and frantically dodging the beast’s rearing legs as Dreyfus whipped the horse’s back end with his riding crop. Conroy was chasing the chit, dodging and weaving, through the sheep pasture; she’d apparently realized escaping on her horse was out of the question with Dreyfus standing guard. Amazingly, Ioan MacKenzie was chasing Conroy. By Kyra’s lead across the paddock, Grif estimated he’d never catch her on foot if he wasted much more time.

  Swearing, Grif lunged at Garrick, yanking the reins from the boy’s hand and pulling him away from the horse’s wild kicks. Dropping to the ground, they rolled out of the way as Apollo skittered away from them, huffing in indignation. Grif tried to catch the upset stallion, but the horse would have none of it. Apollo shied away, but at least he was too well-trained to bolt. Grif looked at the small figure disappearing across the paddock. Unfortunately, there was no time to corral the horse.

  Looking at Garrick, he said, “Stay away from this horse until he calms down. If he bolts, note the direction, but do not follow.”

  Thomas came around the house at full speed, noted the chase across the pasture and immediately changed tack. Grif turned to Dreyfus. “Touch this horse again and I will kill you with my bare hands. Hurt the MacKenzie lad here and I’ll let Harting kill you any way he chooses.”

  Dreyfus sneered and stepped forward with a retort. A shriek from the pasture caught both their attention, however. Conroy appeared to be running out of steam and Ioan MacKenzie had overtaken the lumbering giant. Unfortunately, Ioan MacKenzie hadn’t anticipated what he might do once he actually caught him. Conroy, more than twice the lad’s size, had rounded on him with such a look that the boy had actually yelped. Grif was pretty sure the enormous man would never hurt an innocent boy, but then again, he wasn’t one for taking chances.

  At the far end of the pasture, the figure responsible for this chaos stopped running and turned back to her pursuers. Kyra apparently decided the boy’s safety was more important than her own. She bent down, scooped something up and actually ran at Conroy.

  “Bloody hell,” Grif cursed. The girl would never learn. Without thinking, he grabbed Apollo’s reins, heedless of the horse’s wild kicks. He swung himself up onto the animal’s bare back and prayed the stallion was better behaved than he remembered. The horse reared at the unfamiliar weight, forcing
Grif to dig in with his knees just to remain atop. Hooves hit the ground with a thud and an angry snort; Grif gave him a sound slap on the rump and the horse started toward the field.

  Galloping to the paddock at a ridiculous speed, Grif noticed his quarry was launching rocks at the enraged Conroy. Not surprisingly, her plan had the desired effect. His wrath was soundly focused on the diminutive young lady pelting him with stones. Apparently she saw things much the same way—as well as the very large, very fast form of Thomas Harting hot on her trail—for she suddenly turned and took off at an impressive pace.

  Apollo jumped the fence to the pasture. Grif prayed the horse wouldn’t lose his footing in the muck, or worse, hobble itself in a gopher hold. She’d no doubt flay him if he hurt Dev’s beloved horse.

  He passed Thomas in a trice. Conroy wasn’t long after that. But when he got close to the object of his pursuit, the damned girl whirled and changed course. Before he could slow enough to whip the horse around, she was winding her way back to the farm—heading directly for Conroy. Grif bore down on them both, but once again she darted away an instant before he could nab her. He found himself almost running down his own hired thug, who just managed to jump out of Apollo’s path as Grif pulled the horse up short.

  Grif fought to get Apollo under control, telling himself that at least Thomas would make short work of her. Again, however, he underestimated Kyra. She charged headlong at Thomas, who had slowed with the misguided notion of attempting to catch her as one would normally catch a lady—straight in one’s arms. Instead, the little baggage launched a rock at his head, catching him in the temple. It was enough to make Thomas yelp and stagger. Without missing a beat, she threw herself at the stunned Thomas with all her might, knocking him to the ground and stumbling over her own feet. Like a cat, she rolled gracefully away, shook her head and took off again—all before his friend even knew he’d been vanquished by a mere slip of a girl.

  A low rumble sounded at his side. Conroy was laughing at the spectacle. Grif might have laughed too, except that he was too hungry, too tired and too frustrated to laugh. He wanted to end this. Besides, it would be much more amusing to laugh about it with Thomas over brandy and cigars.

  Right now, however, he felt like throttling one very troublesome chit.

  He prodded Apollo and tore after her again. She was nearing the outbuildings. This time when she dodged, he was ready. He passed her and pulled hard on the reins, stopping abruptly a few feet in front of her, then dropped to the ground before she could change course again. She stopped short and they stared at each other, each taking the other’s measure. They both knew she couldn’t outrun him. Likewise, they both knew he would never intentionally hurt her, no matter how violent he might feel, though he would ruthlessly wrestle her to the ground without a second thought.

  Under the ridiculous hat, her pretty eyes narrowed. Grif took a step forward; she took one back. She raised her chin defiantly—then dove into a narrow, muddy crack in the foundation of one of the outbuildings.

  Chapter Four

  “Bloody hell!” Grif exclaimed, kicking the side of the building. Thomas and Conroy came to stand by his side. The fact that both men were snickering between gasps did nothing to assuage his temper. “Get out of there this instant!”

  “Will you take me back to Edmund?” the foundation asked.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied, hoping she’d come to her senses.

  “Then I will do no such thing.”

  Grif swore and pounded his fist against the rickety building. While the worn boards groaned satisfactorily, there was no sound from the chit underneath it. Well, a direct order and an impressive display of masculine temper never did have much effect on her. He needed to think things through. Taking several deep breaths, he reined in his anger and frustration and forced himself to calm down.

  “Thomas,” he stated calmly. “Stop grinning and check the building from inside. Conroy, go ’round the other side to make sure she can’t slip out.”

  Dreyfus slithered up behind them. “What do you think you’re doing, Griffin?”

  “Lady Kyra seems to have outmaneuvered Grif here by taking up residence in this, er, hole,” Thomas said. At Grif’s daggered look, Thomas and Conroy both trotted off to check for other exits, leaving Grif the unsavory job of dealing with a sniveling Dreyfus.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Dreyfus ordered. “Get her out.”

  “And how do you propose I do that?” Grif drawled.

  “Go in after her,” Dreyfus announced imperiously.

  Grif shook his head, trying to ebb his building temper. “A mathematical impossibility, I’m afraid, as I am roughly twice the size of that hole.”

  “Then reach in and grab her,” Dreyfus insisted.

  “No, thank you. I happen to know she bites.” When the other man sputtered stupidly, Grif said pointedly, “You’re welcome to reach in and grab her.”

  “This is ridiculous!” the smaller man exploded. “It cannot be this hard to catch one stupid girl.”

  Grif folded his arms across his chest. “That ‘stupid girl’ has managed to outsmart you for nearly three weeks. Of course, that’s probably not saying much.”

  Thomas returned, shaking his head. “The floor is solid. There’s no way to get in above her. We may just have to wait her out.”

  “That’s all right,” Grif drawled. “Dreyfus here was just going to reach in and grab her. He is, after all, the one my uncle hired to retrieve her. We’re just the hired muscle. Go ahead, Dreyfus, start retrieving.”

  Dreyfus snorted in disgust and walked over to the muddy crack. Kneeling tenderly so as not to muss his clothes any more than necessary, he reached in and felt about. A moment later his whole arm disappeared into the crack and Dreyfus screamed. He yanked his hand out, shaking it wildly and hopping around in pain.

  Grif shook his head. “I warned him she bites.”

  “Impudent, isn’t she?” Thomas murmured. “I’m beginning to like her, though, especially now that she’s chomped Dreyfus. I’ve wanted to chew him up for weeks.”

  Conroy’s mission had also been for naught. There was no other way in, or as in Lady Kyra’s case, no other way out. There was nothing to do but wait.

  “So it’s a siege, is it?” Thomas plopped down on the grass, stretching his long limbs. “I hope she holds out an hour or so. I could use a rest after all that chasing about.”

  Instead of relaxing, however, Thomas’s back stiffened. “Ah, Grif,” he said, pointing back in the direction of the house, “it looks as though the welcoming committee wants a rematch.”

  Cade MacKenzie, his two sons and Kyra’s bodyguards were striding toward them, bloodied and battered, but with renewed vigor. Of course, they hadn’t been chasing the damned chit up and the down the field for the last quarter hour; they’d at least had the advantage of a little rest.

  MacKenzie brandished a pistol, pointing it at Grif’s heart. “Leave the gel alone,” MacKenzie growled. “And get off me land.”

  Grif nodded, but refused to look cowed. “We will leave, Mr. MacKenzie. But the girl is coming with me.”

  “She’s MacKenzie,” Garrick stated proudly. “We protect our own.”

  “Quite right,” Grif agreed. “But I happen to have a letter from the MacKenzie himself that says she’s to come with me.”

  “What?” the foundation shrieked. “Uncle Cam would never do that!”

  The big Scot he’d kneed earlier stretched out his hand. “Le’s see this letter.”

  Slowly, Grif reached into his waistband and produced a mud-spattered, but thankfully still legible, letter. He handed it to the big man, who eyed it suspiciously.

  “It’s the MacKenzie’s seal, all right,” he acknowledged to his mates. Much to Grif’s relief, Cade dropped his weapon. The man read it to himself, a faint smile on
his lips. “You Lord Griffin?” he asked Grif.

  At Grif’s nod, the man handed the paper back to him. “He ain’t lying, boys.” He stuck out a big, beefy hand. “I’m Lachlan. That one what ye pummeled earlier is Dougal. Cam charged us wi’ keeping the gel safe.”

  “What does Uncle Cameron’s letter say?” the foundation squeaked.

  Lachlan grinned. “Cam said that if this here fellow, Griffin, manages to catch ye fairly and without hurting ye, and while ye were still on MacKenzie land, he could have ye, with Cam’s blessing. Provided the bloke takes full responsibility for yer safety and reputation, that is.”

  “Which I do,” Grif said sweetly. The foundation cursed.

  “It also states,” Lachlan continued loudly, “that if yer able to outrun Griffin and return to yer uncle, Cam will see ye wedded to the suitor of yer choice. He’s included a list of names with a note that says, ‘Choose one’....”

  Grif snatched the letter from the Scotsman and folded it back up. “That hardly seems relevant, considering she’s stuck in a hole and I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Sorry, lass,” Lachlan said good-naturedly. “He cornered ye fair an’ square. We ain’t allowed to interfere.”

  A face peeked out from the opening of the crack. “Well, he hasn’t exactly caught me, now has he?”

  Grif growled. Looking at the youngest MacKenzie, he said, “Think you might nip under there and—”

  Lachlan shook his head, stopping the boy with a meaty hand on his shoulder. “Cam said not to stop ye. He didn’t say te help ye. And lass,” he called to the foundation, “we’ll be sticking around in case ye manage to lose this lot. Cam din’t say we couldn’t wait and help if ye escaped.” To Ioan, he said, “Now, why don’t ye show us where to wash up and we’ll have some of yer ma’s stew.”

  Grif cursed as he hunkered down by Thomas and sent Conroy for their packs. No doubt Mrs. MacKenzie’s stew would be a far cry better than the dried beef they’d be munching on, again, thanks to the chit’s willfulness. Why couldn’t they have found her after lunch? Well, at least they had something to eat; Dev’s sister was under that foundation with no water and no food. She couldn’t last long.