Ann Lethbridge (12 page)

Something pressed up along the length of her back. ‘Jenna?’ he whispered in her ear.

Hearing him say her name made a hot lump fill the back of her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. Tears. Now. Not what she wanted. She sniffed, unable to make a sound or breathe terribly well with all that moisture clogging her throat.

He groaned again and this time it sounded full of anger and self-recrimination. ‘Are you all right?’

She shook her head. But of course he couldn’t see any more than she could.

‘Jenna,’ he said. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘Shut up back there,’ the bandits’ leader said. ‘Or you’ll take another nap.’

She tugged on his clothing in warning. He seemed to understand because he slid closer to her, his breath warming her nape, his chest against her back, his legs curving under her. When he didn’t touch her with his hands, she guessed he must also be tied with his hands behind his back. She reached back with one foot and ran it up and down his leg in a silent message. He drew in a swift hiss of a breath.

The sound sent little chills running across her breasts. Thrilling little chills. So thrilling, she felt her breathing shallow and her pulse race. And she was having enough trouble breathing as it was.

She took a deep breath through her nose and inhaled something that tickled unbearably. She sneezed. Once. Twice. Her body jerking against his.

‘Och, you are killing me,’ he breathed softly, and pressed his hot mouth to a tender spot beneath her ear.

She moaned with the pleasure of it. And the pain of being unable to breathe, or speak.

‘One tug for yes, two for no,’ he breathed into her ear.

She tugged. Again that indrawn breath.

‘Are you hurt?’

Two tugs.

‘Thank God. Gagged?’

She nodded, then remembering, tugged once.

He drew back a little and she could feel his lips exploring the back of her head and sometimes puffs of air as he spat out hanks of her hair. It made her want to giggle. She must be light-headed for lack of air.

He closed the distance and once more whispered softly. ‘I can’t find what they have tied around your mouth.’

Oh, so that’s what he was doing. Two tugs.

‘Bastards,’ he said.

They lay still for a moment, rocking against each other with every movement of the cart, her bum in his lap. He huffed out a breath and rolled on his back.

She made a small sound of protest.

He rolled back. ‘You don’t understand. This is driving me mad.’

She didn’t understand and she didn’t care. She needed to feel him right there at her back, solid and warm and comforting. She reached for his clothing with her fingertips and found it, along with something hard pressing into her hand.

‘Oh, God,’ he breathed. ‘Stop.’

And then she had an insight, a flash of understanding as to what she was touching. Heat flooded her face. She immediately ceased her exploration and gave a little sob of embarrassment.

‘It’s not your fault,’ he said.

Not her fault. Of course this was her fault. But for her, he would not be here.

She lay still, trying not to bump against him. Trying not to wonder what would happen next. Trying not to think of anything at all. Even so, she could not deny that the knowledge that he was right there with her, at her back, warm and solid, made her feel a great deal better than she had when she thought she was completely alone.

* * *

The journey continued hour after hour. She knew it was a long time because they had stopped on several occasions. Once she had jerked awake because the cart had stopped and someone got off. She’d been surprised to realise she had actually fallen asleep. The second time they had stopped there had been other voices just beyond the cart. And a lad crying, begging to be allowed to go home. She had the feeling it was daylight. The darkness beneath whatever was covering her was a little less dense. And she could feel Niall moving at her back, small subtle movements.

‘Trying to get the ropes undone,’ he muttered as if he sensed her interest.

And then the men were back on the cart and they were moving again.

Her stomach felt hollow. If it was daylight, it was hours since she’d had any food. Where on earth could these men be taking them? They’d talked about asking for a ransom, but how would they get it if they’d gone so far from Carrick Castle?

Then everything changed. The steady creak and rock of the cart turned into a nightmare of jolts and the crack of a whip at the animal pulling the vehicle. It tilted so much she felt herself sliding forwards. Her head hit something solid. Niall cursed as he slid into her, knocking what little breath she had from her body. The men didn’t notice.

‘Damn you,’ Niall yelled. ‘I’m crushing her.’

Someone pulled off the covering and Jenna closed her eyes, dazzled by daylight and blue sky. But she could breathe. And above her she could see gulls wheeling on the breeze and smell the salt and seaweed in the air. And then there was Niall, looking down at her face. ‘The devil take you,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘She’s suffocating.’

‘Shut your mouth,’ the leader said.

‘She does look a bit blue,’ Pip said. ‘There’s no one to hear her shout, Fred.’

‘All right. Take out the gag. But watch she don’t bite you.’

Scrawny little Pip leaned over the back, while Fred pointed a pistol at Niall. ‘Move back.’

Niall struggled clear and Pip pulled the rag from her mouth. And finally air filled her lungs. Her mouth was as dry as dust and her throat hurt, but she could at last take a deep breath. She looked at Niall. ‘Thank you.’

He grinned. ‘You are welcome, my lady.’

‘Shut up, the pair of you,’ Fred said, ‘or I’ll put it back.’

Niall raised a brow and shook his head. He looked so cheerful she had the feeling he must have worked his bonds free and was just awaiting the chance to break free. She shifted to see where they were going and was surprised to see not only the three men on the front of the wagon, but a red-haired boy staring back at her over his shoulder.

‘William Tearny?’ she said. She glared at him. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, throwing your lot in with these thieves after all Lord Carrick has done for your family.’

The boy cringed.

‘That’s it, miss,’ Jake said. ‘You tell the little prig.’ He clipped the boy about the ear with a large hand. ‘Needs a lesson in manners, ’e does.’

The boy pressed a hand to his head and sniffled, but said nothing in reply.

At that moment, the cart turned a corner and halted at the mouth of a small bay. Bobbing on the swell was a small boat. Alarmed, she looked at Niall. He frowned.

‘Where are you taking us?’ she asked.

‘Somewhere you will never be found,’ Fred answered with a malicious grin. ‘Until I says so.’ He brought the cart to a stop. ‘Now you can either go into the boat on your own two legs, or you can go on as cargo. Seems like Jake knows the way of putting a man to sleep.’

Jenna swallowed the dryness remaining in her mouth. ‘I’d rather walk.’

‘Me, too,’ Niall said. ‘But you’ll have to untie our ankles.’

‘Shackle him up, Pip, then cut the ropes.’

Niall’s shoulders tensed. Jenna made herself sit upright, forcing herself to be ready for whatever came next.

Pip climbed over into the bed of the cart and pulled out a handful of shackles and chains from beneath the sacks in one corner. Niall kicked him behind the knees. Pip pitched forwards, dropping the gun trying to break his fall. Niall grabbed it and turned on his back, aiming at Fred.

The other man, Jake, stared at him, mouth agape. Fred grabbed Jenna by the hair and pulled her tight against his chest, then pressed a pistol against her temple.

Niall brought the gun to bear on him.

‘Looks like we got a bit of a puzzle,’ Fred said, his chest rising and falling at her back. ‘I don’t care if you shoot Pip, but shoot me and the lady dies. Of course you will probably save your own neck.’

Niall grimaced and threw the pistol down. ‘You can’t blame a man for trying.’

Fred pushed her away from him and she fell headlong into the bottom of the cart, banging her nose. She felt something warm trickling onto her lip. A coppery taste on her tongue.

Niall surged towards Fred, rage on his face.

‘No,’ she cried out. Too late. Jake hit him with a belaying spike. He collapsed in a heap. Fred stepped into the back of the cart and kicked him in the torso, hard. Then he glared at Jenna. ‘I’ve got a good mind to toss him into the ocean.’

The Tearny boy hunched deeper into his coat and turned his face away.

‘No,’ Jenna cried out. ‘I’ll do whatever you want.’

Fred looked at her with that malicious grin. ‘He was right, then. You do have a soft spot for the lad.’

Who was right? She didn’t dare ask.

‘Give her that there writing stuff, Jake. What’s under the seat.’ He grabbed Jenna by the arm and pulled her down from the back of the cart and set her on her feet. He pointed to a rock. ‘Sit there and write.’ He leered at her. ‘And don’t try to cheat. Pip there, he knows how to read.’

Pip, busy putting chains on Niall’s unconscious form, looked up and nodded.

Jenna sat down and took the pencil and paper.

Fred paced before her. ‘This is what you say...’

Chapter Nine

D
amnation, he was cold. Niall reached out for the covers, felt a sharp pain in his chest and heard the clanking of chains. What the...? He cracked open his eyelids and met Jenna’s worried gaze.

Oh, yes. They’d been abducted. He frowned as the events of the past few hours flooded back. His temples began a steady throb.

‘Thank goodness,’ she said. ‘I was beginning to think you were never going to wake.’

Trying to look less fragile than he felt, he pulled himself upright. Agony. Lancing through his chest. He couldn’t stop the grunt of pain, or from pressing one hand to his ribs. He swallowed a curse.

‘He kicked you,’ Jenna said. ‘After they knocked you out.’

‘Sounds like something they would do,’ he said, trying to breathe slowly and evenly in what appeared to be the dying rays of the sun stabbing the shadows of a rocky cavern. He looked her over. Her face was pale. A trickle of blood had dried beneath her nose and her hair was falling around her face and down her back in a glorious tangled mass of burnished gold and copper, but her expression showed only anger.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

She nodded and held up her hands. ‘I’d be a whole lot better if I wasn’t tied up. Apparently, they only had one set of shackles and they thought you deserved them.’

He glanced down. Chained hand and foot, like a criminal. Slowly he eased himself into a sitting position and looked around him at the sandy floor and rock walls. Beyond the entrance he saw an endless sea and heard the sound of the waves. ‘Do you know where we are?’

She shook her head. ‘Not far from where we boarded the boat since we were not at sea for very long. I have no idea which direction they took. They covered us in tarpaulins again.’ She wrinkled her little red nose and shook her hair out of her eyes. ‘And now all I can smell is fish.’

It was the least of their worries. ‘What happened after they knocked me out?’

‘They made me write a letter to Carrick telling him I was safe and to await further instructions. Fred, Jake and the boy went off to deliver it. They said they will be back before morning to take us to our destination,’ she said bitterly.

Something about what she had said didn’t make sense. ‘Are you telling me they did not demand a ransom?’

‘Not in the letter I wrote. From what I overheard, they are to take us to the person who is behind all of this. In the note, they threatened to kill me if anyone tried to follow them. I suppose that is Pip’s task, if they don’t return.’

‘There is something very odd about all of this. What on earth can they be after, if it is not money? Although I suppose we are lucky they didn’t ask for a fortune and then dump us both overboard.’

Her eyes widened and her face grew paler. ‘Perhaps they aren’t after money. Or they know Carrick won’t pay up until he is sure they mean business. If at all.’ She bit her lip and winced. Now he looked at her mouth. He could see it was split. Fury rose in his veins, hot and angry. Anger at himself for scaring her and fury at these
Sassenachs
who held them captive. He clenched his fists and the chains chinked unpleasantly. ‘Carrick will pay up. How could he not? And they know he will go after them, if we are not returned whole and well.’ Or her, anyway. He was of no value, except perhaps as a means to ensure her cooperation. But why not demand the money right away?

‘If only we could escape before they come back,’ she said, looking around.

He looked at his shackles and her ropes. ‘I certainly think I can untie you. You can go for help when it gets dark.’

She grimaced. ‘They left Pip as a guard down on the beach. We might be able to go up the cliff.’ She looked at him with sympathy. ‘Though from what I saw they are rather high and quite sheer.’

Of course they were. His stomach slid unpleasantly sideways. It wasn’t the only such cove along this shore. There was one very like it near Dunross. The cave there had been carved out by a river and its tunnel led up to the headland. This one was barely worthy of the name ‘cave’. It edged only a few feet into the rock and had no back door.

Feeling like the worst kind of coward, he took a deep breath. ‘We should look at all the options before attempting anything.’

She nodded her agreement matter-of-factly. ‘Before we can do anything, we have to get you out of those chains.’

‘Perhaps we can undo the lock with a hairpin. I think I still have a couple left.’ She moved closer. ‘Can you look and see?’

Her hair was a mass of curls, and thick and soft despite the tangles. The colour of autumn leaves, russets and reds and browns. He wanted to feel it slide through his fingers and see it spread over white pillows. Hell, why could he not remember the woman was betrothed to another man? Forcing himself to feel nothing, he fumbled through the silken mass and found two finely worked tortoiseshell pins. He set one down between his knees and worked the other one into the padlock at his ankles. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’ he said, trying to keep positive. Not that he knew much about picking locks. It wasn’t something he’d ever needed to learn. ‘I need to get a look at the lay of the land before it gets dark.’ Hopefully, there would be another option to climbing those cliffs. The pin snapped the moment he twisted it.

‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you cut my ropes with this?’ She held out a sharp-edged shell. ‘Then I can help pick the lock.’

‘It would be better not to cut the rope. We might need its full length if we do have to climb, but I am not ready to give up on these irons.’ He eased the second hairpin into the padlock.

The sun was sinking fast. If he did not get these chains off, he was going to have to find their way out of here blind. The second pin snapped. He cursed. He could not walk in these chains, let alone scramble over rocks, or swim. ‘That’s it, then. You will have to go alone. Come back for me when you find help.’ He grasped her arm. ‘But be careful who you trust. The best thing to do is find your way back to Carrick Castle.’

Her eyes widened in horror. ‘I can’t leave you here.’

‘You must. Come closer and I will see if I can undo these knots.’

She shifted closer, holding out her wrists. ‘Oh, if only I had worn my steel pins this morning.’

Steel pins might have helped. ‘You should have guessed we would need them,’ he said, grinning at her worried face.

She made a half-hearted attempt at a smile. Hell, the woman was brave. As tough as any Highland lass he had ever met, despite her tiny stature. Perhaps tougher.

Steel pins would have indeed been handy, but a knife in his boot would have been better. Not that they would have let him keep it. He lifted her small hands and set them on his knee so he could get at the knots. Small hands, delicate fingers, wrists rubbed raw. He wanted to kill Fred and his men for hurting his little faery.

Faery. Damn it all. He had a pin: the silver one he’d bought from the gypsy. He put his hand inside his pocket and pulled it out. ‘Let me try this first.’ He inserted it into the lock, jiggled it, felt it bite and pushed harder. The shackle fell open at his feet.

‘Oh,’ Jenna said. ‘You did it.’

‘Shhh.’ He unlocked the one at his wrists and put the pin back in his pocket. ‘Now let me have a look at those ropes.’ The knot was tight and firm, but easy to untie and he now had about three feet of good strong rope. Not nearly enough for climbing.

‘Now to check out our avenues of escape.’ Please let there be some other way besides those cliffs. ‘Wait here.’

She nodded and stayed still while he edged towards the mouth of the cave.

Down on the beach their guard sat cross-legged on the sand beside a fire. Good. The light from the flames would make it hard for him to see much in the shadows as long as he did nothing to attract his attention.

He stood with his back against the rocks and scanned the cove.

It was little more than an inlet and surrounded on all three sides by cliffs at least sixty feet high. It was low tide and the waves crashing against the base of each headland made escape that way impossible. Behind the cave, the cliffs were jagged at the base, with lots of hand and footholds. Higher up they were sheer, except for a narrow vertical fissure that ended very close to the top.

Not a terribly difficult climb for someone with experience, but for a man who suffered from vertigo it was nigh impossible. Yet there wasn’t a choice.

His stomach churned as he looked up. His head spun. Well, it would be dark when they went up. The only thing in his favour. Carefully, he retreated back into the cave.

‘Can we do it?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘Oh, aye. No trouble at all,’ he said and swallowed his bile. ‘But we will need to do something about that skirt of yours.’

‘Perhaps I can cut it shorter.’

He unknotted his cravat and handed it to her. ‘Tie this around your waist and loop up your skirts the way the lasses do when digging for cockles.’

She nodded. ‘When do we go?’

‘When it is fully dark.’

‘Then there is nothing to do but wait.’

‘Aye.’ He stretched out on the sandy floor and she dropped down beside him. He felt her shiver. ‘Cold?’

‘A little.’

‘Put your cloak over both of us and lie close. Two are always warmer than one under the covers.’

‘I suppose you speak from experience.’ Her voice was warm and teasing in the growing dark. He forced himself to remember how afraid she must be. How this was bravery on her part. How he had to keep her at a distance.

‘Many experiences.’

‘Oh.’ A sound filled with embarrassment, but still she covered him with her cloak, then slipped beneath it, hard up against his side. He had an urge to roll over and enclose her within his arms. To warm her with kisses. He gritted his teeth and stayed where he was. ‘Better?’

‘Yes.’ She snuggled closer, making his heart beat a little too fast. No, a lot too fast.

‘I was so glad you were there with me in that cart,’ she whispered. ‘I was terrified. When I heard your voice, I was so relieved.’

‘I was of little use.’ As little as he had been at the Tearnys’ cottage. He’d let his guard down. Never imagined that a scurvy bunch of ruffians would come up with such a devious scheme. Even now, he could not quite believe it. ‘I’m going to make Fred and his lads wish they had never been born, when we get back to Carrick.’
If
they got back to Carrick. The thought of climbing the cliff was his worst nightmare come true. Thank God it would be dark when they made the attempt.

‘I wonder what Mr Murray is going to make of all this?’

Murray. Now there was a thought. No doubt if he was here he’d be shinning up the rocks and enjoying himself. ‘He’ll be glad to see you brought back, safe and sound.’

‘I expect you are right.’

She didn’t sound hopeful.

‘He can’t blame you for being abducted.’

‘No. But people talk. They make assumptions... I will have spent two nights unchaperoned. He might not be so pleased to marry a woman whose virtue is in doubt.’

‘A man worth marrying won’t listen to unfounded gossip.’

She didn’t reply. In the dark, he had no way of telling if his words had the desired effect. Not that he cared about Murray. But from the tension in her body, he could tell she did. And with good reason. Her future was at stake.

If they managed to escape in one piece.

Better not to think about what might happen. It was like worrying about cards one hadn’t yet been dealt. It didn’t help. In fact, if he thought about the climb, his teeth might start to chatter.

‘Tell me about your home,’ he murmured. ‘About Braemuir.’

‘Oh,’ she said on a sigh and he felt her relax right away. ‘I haven’t been there for years.’

‘But you remember it.’

‘Of course. I grew up there. It was just me and Father, after Mother died.’ There was a long pause and he thought she wouldn’t say any more, but then she did and there was a smile in her voice, heart-stopping joy, and he wished he could see her face.

‘It is not a large estate, compared to Lord Carrick’s holding. A small park in a glen surrounded by hills. Everything is so green in the summer. And the winters are so fierce sometimes the road to the village is impassable for days.’

‘And you didna’ mind being cut off?’

‘It was more of an adventure. Father and I used to hunt, though there was always plenty of food in the larder and wood and peat for the fires. Enough for a few days, anyway.’

Pretty much the way they survived at Dunross when the weather turned bad. ‘Has your family lived there long?’

‘There have been Aleynes at Braemuir for centuries. The current house was built for my mother’s grandfather by the Scottish architect James Smith. They kept the great hall and built the new house around it. I loved it as a child. Hearing the stories of my ancestors from my father. Seeing their portraits and collections. He spent hours with me, teaching me everything he knew.’

‘It is a rare father who spends so much time with a daughter.’ His own father had spent little or no time with his younger sons.

‘He planned to marry again, once he was done grieving my mother. It took a long time. But finally he felt he was ready. The night before he was to depart for Edinburgh, he collapsed. Apoplexy, the doctor said.’

‘And now you are to carry on where he left off.’

‘Yes. I’ve been gone a long time, but I’ve never forgotten my promise to my father to do my best for Braemuir.’ Her voice lowered into a whisper. ‘It was too soon, when he died. I wasn’t ready.’

Damn. Now he’d stirred up unhappy memories. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘But I am ready now. My aunt, Mrs Blackstone, taught me all I need to fulfil my duty.’

It sounded like a cold future. ‘So you will be pleased to go home at last?’

‘I will. Braemuir needs its own lord again, though Lord Carrick has been assiduous in his role as trustee.’

Had he? Niall recalled the entries in that damned private ledger. Payments listed as coming from Braemuir. He had no idea of their legitimacy. Nor should he have seen them.

‘And what about you?’ she asked. ‘Do you love your home?’

‘Ours is a slightly different tale, I am afraid, though it ends well enough. The Gilvrys lost Dunross Keep after ’45.’