Capturing The Reluctant Highlander (Lasses 0f The Kinnaird Castle Book 3)

by Kenna Kendrick

  Robyn broke the silence. “Miss, I should be getting back to the bakery soon. Me cousin is not tae be trusted for too long tae look after it.”

  “Yes, yes I understand. Just, could you answer me something?”

  “Of course, Ma’am.”

  “Did you know about anything that was happening between Mr. Ferguson and my sister? Did she tell you?”

  Robyn nodded. “Aye, she told me a little but only bits and pieces. She’s a private woman, yer sister.”

  Marianne nodded. “Yes. That she is.” She tried not to let the tears fall too quickly at the knowledge that Ruth had shared with Robyn at least some of what had happened between her and Troy. She had not wanted to share any information with her own sister. “Thank you, Robyn, for coming. I hope the letter will give you some comfort.”

  Robyn stood and placed her teacup on the table in front of her. She walked over and laid a hand on Marianne’s shoulder. “They will find her, Ma’am. And if Ruth feels that she’s in danger, ye know she’ll fight tooth and nail tae get back.”

  Marianne placed a hand on Robyn’s. “I dearly hope so.” With that, Robyn left, softly closing the door behind her. All the sound that was left in the room was the crackles of the fire and the slow breathing of father and daughter.

  “Father. Tell me. What has happened to your finances? Why are you in such dire straits that you must do this to Ruth?”

  Lord Browne stared into the flames. He had grown smaller it seemed in the last few hours. Marianne was no longer afraid of him. She could speak openly and freely, His old, angry bravado and forceful manner was gone, leaving only an old, deflated and defeated man.

  He spoke slowly, with a low, cracking voice. “I was taught that it is essential to promote one’s place in society. You girls never understood that. Never. You needed to be guided to find the right marriage to propel you further. After the Lord Hampshire incident, he took back the money he had given me to pay my debts. My debts had grown because I was losing favor in the House of Lords for my proposed bills, and I attempted to buy my way back into good esteem in more ways than one. Then you and Ruth left, and I started to have to sell things in the house to put food on the table. I was angry. I knew that Ruth would most likely still be available for marriage, so I created a plan to regain all that I had lost. You don’t know what it’s like. A father having been left by his own daughters. He is scorned in the streets.”

  Lord Browne did not look away from the fire, but Marianne could feel the pain in his speech. “Father, you could have simply loved us and encouraged us to find men that would protect us and make us happy. Men we loved. Then we would have not left, and you would not have been scorned or in such a financial state.”

  “You both were too strong-willed. I knew you would have made choices that would not have furthered your status.” He lifted a hand to motion to the house around him. “See? It has occurred as I feared.”

  Marianne felt fiercely protective of the beautiful life that she had built with William. “How can you say that, Father?” She leaned forward, wishing he would look her in the eye. “I am happy. I am blissfully happy with a man that I love, who both loves and respects me. Do you not care about the happiness of your daughter? Does that hold no value in your mind?”

  “You have defied my guidance. You have rejected my efforts as a father to put you on the right path. You both have. What would your mother have said?”

  Marianne touched her wedding ring. It had been her mother Katherine’s many years before, until she had to sell it to leave London to find William. William had heroically bought it back and presented her with it on their wedding day. “My mother would have supported our happiness. She would have come and visited with only good things to say.” Marianne placed a hand on her stomach. “She would have wanted to see her grandchild.” Marianne placed a hand on her father’s wrist, and she felt him slightly wince at the intimacy. “Do you not?”

  “If it is a son, then I congratulate you both. If it is a daughter, then I wish the Lord’s blessing upon you. You will need it.”

  He stood abruptly, surprising Marianne with his sudden movement. “I will leave your house.”

  “Yes, I think that’s best.” Marianne nodded, hurt deeply by her father’s lack of loving-kindness for her unborn child. “I can give you the money you need. Stay in Scotland or return to London. It does not matter.”

  He nodded and moved to return to his room. Before he entered the hallway, he turned around and said, “I did not wish for Ruth to be in any bodily danger. It hurt me so to think that she could have been killed, and by that roguish man himself.” His voice was so soft that Marianne had to strain to hear. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

  He moved upstairs, and Marianne rubbed her stomach, a smile at the corners of her lips. “So, perhaps there is hope for him, after all, little one.”

  * * *

  Ruth jerked awake after a rather large bump moved her out of her seat. She looked around her, trying to remember where she was. She was in a darkened carriage with rain falling hard outside, and the realization hit her. She had joined Dougal and his men on an adventure. She turned to see Dougal, awake as well, and he smiled at her.

  “So lass, how are ye feeling about yer prospects? What do ye plan tae do for yer adventure?” Dougal asked her, moving ever so slightly closer.

  One of the men on the other side of the carriage snorted. Ruth glanced at him and then turned back to Dougal. “I don’t know, as of yet. The sea does intrigue me, but perhaps a ship is not for me at this time. I was thinking of working as a governess on the coast for a while, until I can think of a plan.”

  Dougal nodded. “Aye, ye could do that, tae be sure. But do ye not think that the sea is the most desirable option?” Ruth did not like the way Dougal looked when he emphasized the word desirable. The other man sniggered.

  “Yes, it does have its charms,” Ruth said, attempting a smile. She was grateful that the dim lighting of the lantern hid the majority of her in shadow, so he would not see the worry beginning to appear on her face.

  “Well, we can discuss it together when we stay in the inn just here. ‘Tis nightfall. And I’d like tae get my rest.” He winked at her, and Ruth swallowed. Suddenly, there was a jerk and a sharp twist. Ruth tried to hold onto the side of the carriage for support, but soon it was leaning too far over, and with fright, she felt herself moving to the roof of the carriage. She cried out, and as the horses whinnied in fear, Ruth felt her hands touch the smooth carriage roof as they seemed to fall endlessly, down and down, until they landed with a harsh and painful thud.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Bloody Hell!” Dougal yelled as he held onto his hand, grimacing slightly in pain. The other two men grumbled at the upset but did not make any sounds of pain. Ruth was breathing heavily. She made a mental check of her body, hoping and praying that nothing was hurt or broken. Her mind was leaning more and more towards making an escape, but if she was injured, she would not be able to do so.

  The lantern was still swinging from the side of the carriage, and Ruth breathed a sigh of relief that it hadn’t fallen, but another jerk from a scared horse sent it crashing between the four of them, and it burst into flames. They all yelled, and Ruth hastily yanked her skirts away from the fire.

  One of Dougal’s men stood and kicked the door open, hurrying to escape the growing fire, leaving them all behind as the door slammed shut again. Ruth could feel her lungs beginning to fill with smoke, and she thought to herself, No, it will not end this way! Move, Ruth, move!

  She pushed on Dougal’s back, who groaned and seemed to be tiring from the intense heat that filled the carriage. “Come, Dougal, we must go!” The other man looked to be so shocked that his friend had abandoned him, that he sat still for a moment. Ruth moved and decided to push on the door herself. Luckily, it gave way easily. She scrambled out as best she could into the rain.

  Once she was free, she held the door open, hoping the rain would douse so
me of the fire, which it did. Dougal and his man crawled slowly out. She stood in the rain breathing in deep gulps of air, her dress soaked. She was free. They escaped. She silently thanked God.

  The fire was now out, but it had done great damage to the inside of the carriage, while the fall had destroyed most of the outside of the carriage. Dougal kicked it, holding onto his injured hand, cursing to the air. He turned to the two of them. The other man was nowhere to be seen. “We shall have to wait until this is repaired. I will not carry this cross and a lady across the countryside with naught but horses. We would be asking for trouble. Come!” he said gruffly to Ruth, and not knowing what else to do, she followed him. He pointed to the inn just ahead. “We will stay there, and they will help us find someone to repair the carriage.”

  They arrived at the doorway to the inn, dripping huge puddles of water onto the stone floor. A servant girl came to them and took their wet coats, eyeing them with interest. Ruth noticed Dougal give the girl a wink, despite having grumbled all the way from the carriage to the doorway about his injured hand.

  Dougal moved to a side table, and the three of them sat. “I hope Hawkins dies out there,” the other man remarked sullenly. “Leaving us in the burning carriage like that.”

  Dougal nodded. “At least he has not received payment, yet, Darin. He will get his comeuppance when the time is right. All blaigeards do,” he said smirking. “Including Captain Bloody Ferguson, Ruth. Has he not been sufficiently punished?”

  Ruth nodded, droplets of water, coming off of the ends of her hair. She felt so exposed and so conspicuous in this setting. It was a rather damp and dark place, with all sorts of characters sitting about and drinking in the main room in front of a warm hearth. She had never been in such a place. It seemed so ordinary. She felt afraid though, afraid that she had lost her tie to anything familiar. How would she continue without her anchor of familiarity? She thought sadly, about Troy. What an anchor he could have been, rooting her deeply, while at the same time setting her free. But his image was tarnished in her mind. Tarnished by Dougal, who now drank an ale smugly, celebrating his victory, forgetting all about the pain in his hand.

  Ruth was given an ale as well, and she brought it to her lips. At least Dougal was not going to treat her like a fragile lady. That was one benefit. After a few swallows, Ruth asked him, “Dougal, did you tell Troy about the cross?”

  He chuckled, “Aye, I left him a letter. Me ma said I always had a flair for the dramatic. I left one for yer father as well.”

  Dougal regretted the words once he’d spoken them. “What did these letters say? And why did you leave one for my father? You are but only newly acquainted.”

  Dougal glanced at his friend and then began to laugh nervously. “I thought he might like tae know that he would not be winning. That ye had escaped him.”

  Ruth nodded, although it seemed strange. Surely, if someone was going to write Lord Browne a letter about such a thing, it should have been her. “What did Troy’s letter say?”

  Dougal seemed to relax at the cessation of her questions about her father’s letter. “I told him that he deserved whatever he got. I took the cross, and ye have left with me as well, of your own accord. I knew he’d be hurting at that.”

  Ruth felt an unexpected sadness for Troy, despite everything, at having to open such a letter. “I see. Well, I hope, then, that he has learned his lesson. And that he feels his pain true enough.”

  Dougal clinked his glass with hers. ‘That he does, me Lady. That he does. And now, ye can forget about that lying minister and focus on yer sea voyages ahead.”

  Dougal’s eyes moved slowly over her face and below, and Ruth had the urge to cover the bodice of her soaked dress with her hands. But he soon turned away and began making conversation with Darin, laughing loudly and ordering more ales from the barmaid. Ruth sipped hers slowly, grateful for the beverage, as it eased her nerves, but also hoping that the night would never end, so that she wouldn’t have to figure out where she would be staying.

  * * *

  Troy and William were galloping, through the rain, yelling to each other to be heard over its roar.

  “We must stop, lad!” William yelled, “or else these horses will make a wrong move and snap an ankle!”

  Troy grit his teeth, clutching tightly to the reins. He hated that he was being impeded, and Ruth was slowly moving away from him. It seemed like they would never catch her. Troy replied over his shoulder. “There is an inn nearby! If we can just ride until there.”

  William said “Aye!” and they pushed onward, the soggy sounds of hooves on grass filling their ears. Troy heard nothing except the repeated phrase that kept going in his mind: Lord, keep her safe. If she doesnae want me, it doesnae matter. Just keep her safe.

  In a few minutes, they saw a dark, rectangular shape lying on the ground. Once they got closer, they realized it was an overturned carriage, and they halted their horses in order to help. Troy jumped down and yelled, “Sir! Madam! Is anyone hurt?” He ran to open the carriage door. No one was inside, and it was all blackened with soot, the fabric burnt to a crisp.

  Troy felt his stomach drop at the thought that this could be the carriage Dougal was using to convey Ruth, and he glanced at William with concern in his eyes. “She could be hurt somewhere, lost in the wilds.”

  “No way, lad. Ruth is a strong one. She will have found her way tae the inn.” William laid a hand on Troy’s shoulder and pointed. We have come tae it now. Let’s go inside and speak with the owner.”

  Troy nodded, and he made to get up on his horse again when he saw the shadow of something lying in the grass. He ran over to inspect it, and saw a small cloth bag, wrapped around something hard. He opened it up and began to laugh.

  * * *

  Dougal and Darin were most definitely drunk, Ruth thought. Maybe that was for the best. They wouldn’t try to do anything as she went to sleep. Or so she hoped. She had finished her ale long ago. Her eyelids were feeling heavy with fatigue, and her legs itched mercilessly from the wet skirts clinging to her skin. She wished more than anything that she could lay her head down on some comfortable bed in front of a large hearth in warm clothes and rest after all that had happened.

  But she was afraid to fall asleep in such a place. And with such company. Darin and Dougal had begun to blather on unintelligibly for some time, and Ruth had remained silent, fixing her gaze on the other guests around the room, attempting to piece their stories together.

  The man in the corner with the dark beard sipping his drink was definitely a spy, she thought with humor. His eyes roved about the room, and he seemed aware of everything and everyone. The woman near him with another younger woman might have been running away with her ladies’ maid to some new location. Like me, I suppose. But, I do not have the comfort of Margrete with me. In her tired state, Ruth’s heart ached for home. And it ached for Troy. Or at least the Troy she thought she knew.

  Her stream of thought was broken by the mention of Troy’s name from Dougal. His sentences were slurred, but he began to speak excitedly, mentioning Troy’s name often. She tried to listen in.

  “That bastard got what he deserved, ye know. That Troy Ferguson. Now, he’ll be lickin’ his wounds after I’ve taken his whore from him. She’ll be mine o’ course!” And the two of them laughed together, swaying in their seats.

  His thick Scottish brogue became more pronounced with his drunkenness, but Ruth could not deny what she’d heard. “His whore?” Ruth whispered, her heart filling with dread with each passing second.

  Dougal turned to her then for the first time in hours. His face looked different now, she thought. Its features were relaxed from the alcohol consumption, but there was something she’d never seen before. There was a brazenness to them. She had always found him handsome and sensual, but she thought he was kind as well. Friendly. Now he looked hard and cruel. It looked as though his mind was full of devious thoughts just waiting to come out.

  “Aye, lass. Whore. Think nothin
g of it. ‘Tis what women are good for. ‘Tis what they are made for.” His voice lowered in an attempt to be sensual, but it came out as a rough growl. His hand slid underneath the table and touched the top of her knee.

  She froze. No, no, no, Ruth thought. Never would I have come if I had thought that this would be the outcome. Forcing herself to be bold, Ruth pushed his hand away roughly, saying, “You’re drunk, Dougal. Perhaps it is time you went to bed? You will feel much better in the morning.”

  Dougal chuckled and looked at Darin who leaned back, laughing as well. “Aye, lass. Let us go tae bed. What a relaxing night ‘twill be, with ye in mine.” And he erupted into a new fit of laughter. Ruth’s whole body tensed, her mind racing, trying to find a way out of this. A way of escape.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  She wished Troy was there to slay them in a sword fight. No, he was a traitor, and she would have to try, try her damnedest, to forget about him. Forever. Instead, she wished William was there. He would punch Dougal and Darin and rescue her. No, don’t be ridiculous! She chided herself. I am a strong woman, and I will not become prey to these two drunken men. There has to be a way out.