Bride of the Solway (32 page)

'Do I have your word on that?' he retorted with a sneer.

'I am surprised that you would take the word of a woman, James.'

'Ordinarily, I would not. But I do know you, Cassie. Do I have your word?'

'Yes.' What choice did she have? 'That being so, will you not dispense with the gag also?'

'You will promise not to cry out?'

'I will not make any attempt to escape and I will not seek help from anyone on the way back to
Langrigg
. You have my word.' She would keep it, too. As far as
Langrigg
. But she had made no promises about what would happen after that. If she could find a way to escape—with Lucifer—she surely would.

'Very well. Put away the gag, Tarn. Give Miss Cassie her whip and help her to mount.'

They seemed to have thought of almost everything. With a whip, Cassie should be able to ride. She could manage without boots or gloves. She struggled to gain the saddle, but failed. The black dress was not fit for riding in. The skirt was not wide enough. That was one thing that James had overlooked.

'Damn women and their fancy clothing,' he spat. 'Don't know why you're wearing that hideous black affair, in any case. You used to have better taste.' He took a dirk from his boot and reached across to grab Cassie by the arm. Then he slit the skirt down the back. 'That will do. You'll be able to put your knee round the pommel now. But keep that cloak round you. You need to look decent if we should meet anyone.'

Cassie swung the cloak round her shoulders and allowed Tarn to throw her up on to Lucifer's back. She settled herself as best she could, using the cloak to cover the petticoats that foamed out through her ruined skirts. With the strange summer weather, she was going to be very hot indeed under that stifling and rather smelly cloak. She resolved to ignore it. And to ignore her brother. She would think of something beautiful instead. She would think about that stately beech tree.

No! She would think about Ross.

* * *

'There they are!' Ross gestured with his riding whip. A small group of figures was just visible, far out across the firth. They were only a little way from the Scottish shore.

Ross set his heels to Hera's flanks and started out across the sand, paying precious little attention to the pools and eddies.

'Take care, sir!' Fraser yelled. He had quickly fallen behind, for his horse was no match for Hera. 'Remember the quicksands!'

The panic in Fraser's voice was just enough to register in Ross's brain and bring him back to a sense of where he was. He steered round a particularly dubious area of sand. James Elliott had lost his fine grey in the quicksands. And Ross would be no good at all to Cassie if he did likewise.

He leaned low over Hera's neck, trying to get as close as possible to the water so that he could better gauge the firmness of the sand ahead of him. He even slackened her pace. But only slightly.

Was he gaining on them? He thought perhaps he was. 'Good girl. We will catch them. We will.'

By the time he reached the Scottish shore, Elliott had disappeared and Fraser was lagging even further behind. Ross had a moment of doubt. Should he go on, alone, one man against two, and both of them armed? Or should he wait for Fraser, losing valuable time? The thought of Cassie in her brother's clutches decided him. Nothing was more important than her rescue. He spurred Hera on.

The Elliott party clattered through Annan at a fast trot. Cassie, in the middle of the trio, kept her head down, but she heard the comments as they passed. She knew she was blushing. The good burghers of Annan could see perfectly well who she was, and how improperly dressed. She had neither hat nor gloves. And why on earth would a lady be riding dressed in a black bombazine gown and a grey stuff cloak? The voices did not rise above low murmurs—the fierce frown on James's face was frightening enough to ensure that—but their unflattering nature was obvious enough. Miss Elliott had been discovered doing something disreputable. She was being escorted home in disgrace.

Cassie chewed her lip and fumed. Damn her brother. Damn appearances. And damn Ross Graham for failing her when she needed him! If he had followed her into the woods, if he had ignored her pleas to be left alone, none of this would have happened. She would still have been at
Whitemoss
. And safe!

The trio had just reached the first stones of the bridge when she heard a shout behind them. She was almost sure it was her name. She looked over her shoulder. Was that Ross? On his chestnut mare? Surely only Ross would call out her given name in that way?

She pulled on Lucifer's reins, preparing to turn and race back to him. He was going to save her, after all.

James, only a pace behind her, snarled, 'Your word, Cassie. Remember? Your given word.' Then, as if to reinforce the message, he slashed his riding whip across Lucifer's flank.

Lucifer bolted across the bridge.

There was nothing Cassie could do. Even if she could have controlled her horse, she could not break her word, even to James. She had given herself into his power until they reached
Langrigg
. But she must try to catch one more glimpse of Ross. Ignoring the dangers of her horse's headlong flight, she turned in her saddle. She must try to show him, somehow, that she needed him. And that she loved him still, even though she must seem to him to be in league with her kidnappers.

She gazed back at him, pleadingly. Please understand, Ross! Please! I love you! Come to me at
Langrigg
. I will find a way. At
Langrigg
, I will find a way.

A cruel hand grabbed her arm. James was still alongside her. 'Have a care, Cassie, or that damned horse will have you off. Lucifer may kill you if he likes, but that blackguard behind shall not have you alive.'

A laden cart lumbered out of an alley and started across the Annan bridge. Ross was not close enough to get ahead of it. He hauled on Hera's reins. She skittered to a halt, almost losing her footing on the damp cobbles.

Damn, damn, damn! He could barely see them now. They were disappearing, at the gallop, in the direction of the
Langrigg
estate. Ross closed his eyes, remembering Cassie's last look.

Why had she not stopped? Why had she not come to him? James Elliott could not have taken her by force in the middle of Annan High Street. She had had her chance of freedom. She had had the chance to come to him. And she had gone with her brother. Willingly.

He slumped in his saddle. He could not believe it. She had said she loved him. How could she, and yet go with her brother? He felt as if some sharp-fanged monster was gnawing his gut. He had lost her. He had lost the woman he loved.

He groaned aloud.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that the people around had recoiled from him, as if he were carrying some terrible disease.

And he was. For his disease was heartbreak.

He had known he cared for Cassie. But he had not been prepared to admit that he loved her, not even to himself. For to love was to take risks. And Ross Graham had long since ceased to be brave enough to take risks with his heart.

His heart had had other ideas. It was given—irrevocably—to Cassie Elliott. And the sight of her straight back, disappearing into the far distance, was enough to place a vice around it and tighten the screw. His whole body ached with longing for her, even though she was lost to him. It was only now—and much too late—that he recognised just how much he loved her. Oh, Cassie! Darling Cassie!

Yet that last strange look... What did it mean? She had galloped away with her brother, right enough, but that look... If she was glad to leave him, would she not have seemed triumphant? Proud? It had been so fleeting, so difficult to read. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to picture her face.

Not triumph. Nor anger. It was.. .oh, God, he could not tell. It could have been rejection. For she had cause. He, by his own neglect, had lost her. She needed him and he had failed her. He was cursed.

In desperation, he tried to edge Hera forward across the bridge. He could not—would not—lose her like this. He had to tell her he loved her.

Why was that confounded cart so slow? There was not room for even a single horse to pass it.

'Sir!' Fraser gasped, catching up at last. 'Where is she? Could you not stop them?'

Ross shook his head, still berating himself for his failure. He had lost her, perhaps for ever. He tried to master the searing pain that lanced through him. 'Elliott forced them through the town at the gallop,' he lied hoarsely. He would follow her. He had to know the truth. He had to—

'I can't see any sign of them, sir.'

That brought Ross back to earth. And to the need for plans before action. 'True,' he said harshly. 'By the time we get across this blasted bridge, Elliott will be well-nigh at
Langrigg
.' He made no attempt to hide his anger and exasperation. 'There is no point in galloping after them now. They are too well defended for a frontal attack. What we need now, Fraser, is guile.'

Cassie dared one more glance over her shoulder, just as they turned into the
Langrigg
estate. There was no sign of anyone following now. He had given up.

She wanted to scream with vexation.

James caught Lucifer's rein to slow him to a walk. 'No need to rush now,
m'dear
,' he said silkily. 'You are home now. And safe in the bosom of your family. Where you will stay.'

Cassie kept her eyes fixed on the road in front of her. She did not dare look at James. He might see, in her eyes, that she was still far from beaten.

'Until your wedding day,' James continued, totally ignoring her mutinous silence.

She stiffened.

'That got your attention. I thought it might.'

'I will not marry any man of your choosing, James Elliott.'

He sat back in his saddle and laughed harshly till the sound echoed round the valley. 'D'ye hear that, Tarn? Your mistress thinks to defy me. A good joke, is it not?'

Tam managed a strangled cackle. 'Aye,
maister
.'

Cassie glowered at him. Tam would see out his days in a prison hulk if she had any say in the matter.

James looked through her. 'When we reach the house, you will lock Miss Cassie in her bedchamber and bring the key to me, Tam. There will be no risk of your escaping, Cassie. And since your faithful Morag is long gone, I can at last depend on the loyalty of the servants. You will stay in your chamber until your wedding day.'

'No! I will not be wed for you.'

'As you wish. Then you will remain in your chamber. For good.' He stroked his whip down his horse's neck. 'Unfortunately, as none of the servants will have a key, it will not be possible for you to be fed. Such a pity.'

Cassie felt her heart stop in her breast. He meant it. James truly would not care if she starved to death. She was not to be allowed to thwart his will. Whatever the price.

For a long time, she said nothing. But, by the time the house came into view, her common sense had overcome her simmering fury. She might never have another chance of placating him. 'Do I take it,' she said hoarsely, 'that you have already chosen a husband for me?'

'Oh, yes.'

'May I ask who?'

He turned to look her full in the face. 'How very polite you are, on a sudden, Cassie. To what do I owe this change of tone?'

She swallowed. 'I do not relish the alternative you offer me.' Her voice was so low and flat that it was almost inaudible.

He smiled, nodding. An acknowledgement, at last. By God, it has taken you long enough, lassie. By rights, I should keep you in suspense. But I am too kind-hearted for that. So I will tell you. Robert Munro, of Newton Douglas, is prepared to offer me five thousand pounds for you.'

Cassie blinked in astonishment. Only days ago, James had been demanding twenty thousand from Ross.

'Not the best price, I admit, but he is an old man. I doubt he will live long. And since he has no children, you will soon be a very wealthy widow.'

But, as a widow, she would be free!

'Oh, no, Cassie.' He had caught the gleam in her eye. 'Don't think you can escape me, even once you are wed. Munro has agreed that I am to be your trustee. Once our husband is safely planted, I shall control every penny of the Munro estate. It will be quite like old times, will it not? Indeed, if I am any judge, I'd say that Munro would be lucky to have strength enough to last the wedding night.'

'Morag! At last!'

The
abigail
bustled into the coffee room of Annan's best inn. 'Och, sir! Miss Cassie! Where is she? She—'

'Hush!' Ross put a finger to his lips and gave a tiny shake of his head. There were too many listening ears around them. He had made his decision. He needed Morag's help for his plans. 'Come outside, Morag. I need to talk to you. Fraser will take your things upstairs.' He took her by the elbow and hurried her out.

He did not allow her to say a word until they were beyond the edge of the town and walking along the open river bank where he could be sure that no one was within earshot. 'I need your help, Morag. I am going to rescue your mistress.'