Cowboys and Highlanders (30 page)

Elise took a deep breath, then pushed up to a sitting position. Her pulse raced. The movement had been effortless. Could she—she shoved to her feet. She tripped, one foot having landed on the floor, the other on the pallet, and she stumbled sideways, slamming into the wall. She slid to the floor, head swimming.

"Too fast," she told herself between the gasps for breath she prayed was fear and not lasting effects of the laudanum.

Her pulse slowed and she, at last, rose. Her head remained clear, despite the lurch of her stomach with the first step. She halted, waited a moment, then, eyes fixed on the light, she edged forward until her fingers touched the cold steel of the door.

* * * *

Marcus closed the door to Miss Lisa Poteck's cabin aboard the
Josephine
, then followed the narrow corridor to the captain's quarters. With a perfunctory knock, he entered. Captain Garret sat at a large table, studying navigation maps that covered the large oak surface. He looked up as Marcus approached.

"How is Miss Poteck?" he asked in a refined English accent.

Marcus seated himself opposite him. "She will be fit enough for the meeting. All is in readiness?"

"It is, Lord Ashlund."

A loud knock sounded at the door and Steven entered.

Marcus came to his feet when he recognized the man behind Steven as one of those hired to watch Danvers Hospital.

"Ardsley has gone to Danvers," Steven said.

"When?"

The man answered, "I rode the moment he arrived. Less than two hours ago."

Adrenaline coursed through Marcus.

Steven was already consulting his pocket watch. "It is twenty-five past one." He stuffed the watch back into its pocket. "Price did just as you said he would."

"Aye, lad. He had no choice." Marcus turned to the messenger. "Wait for me on deck."

The man nodded, then left.

Marcus waited for the door to shut, then faced Steven. "The board members are ready?"

"They're waiting at a nearby tavern." He shook his head in obvious disbelief. "I thought you were wrong. Had I gone to Danvers as I wanted…"

His brother-in-law had no notion of the will it had taken Marcus to remain idle on the
Josephine
. He, too, wanted nothing more than to catch Price Ardsley on the road to Danvers, but he couldn't chance Elise being hurt in the gunfight. Justin would follow her. If worse came to worst, he would attack and take Elise from Price.

"Ardsley had to be sure you and I were aboard the
Josephine,
" Marcus said. "You can be sure he knows of our continued presence here." Marcus faced the captain. "Captain Garret, please have your doctor prepare Miss Poteck."

"As you say," Garret replied crisply.

Marcus started for the door, Steven on his heels. Once in the corridor, Steven closed the door and called out to Marcus. He halted.

"Did you inform your cousin of your plan not to sail back to Scotland with Elise?"

"Instructions await him on the ship they are to sail on," Marcus replied.

"He will not be pleased. As for Elise—"

"Elise will be well looked after. Justin knows what he's about."

"And if you don't make your ship?"

"I will."

* * * *

Elise's hand shook as she pressed a palm against the iron door. She pushed gently. The door swung open. A cry of surprise rose in her throat before she could stifle the sound. Why was her door unlocked? They believed she was still in a stupor!

She stepped as far as the doorway and peeked into the hall. The long corridor was empty. She stepped from the room and stopped two paces into the hallway. A single light lit the hallway near where she stood. Doors lined both sides of the corridor. She looked left, then right. Both directions turned into what seemed yet another hallway. Which way was out? Out—out to where? Where was she going? Marcus. No. She would not endanger him.

Blood roared through her veins; her head pounded. Panic rose. Which way? Choose a way, any way! She started forward. Her courage grew with each infinitesimal step forward. Near the end of the hallway, the tip of a banister extended out to where the hallway turned left.
Stairs.

A scream shattered the silence. Elise bit back a shout and hugged the wall. Another cry, fainter this time but close, rent the air again. She peered in the direction she had been moving. A door stood three feet from her. She edged toward the room. The door stood slightly ajar and she peered inside.

"No!" a woman wailed in a low voice. "Please, Ramsey, not tonight, not tonight." Her voice trailed off repeating the plea.

Elise jammed her eyes shut.
Ramsey
, the monster who had been watching her.

"No," the woman cried again.

Elise entered the room. "Shhh," she said.

The huddled form in the far corner jerked upright. "Who's there?" the woman said. "Sara? You're not Sara."

"No," Elise soothed. She stopped near the woman and knelt.

The woman shrank back. "Ramsey sent you. He wants to know if my monthly flux has passed. Tell him no! It will never pass. Tell him—"

"No," Elise whispered. "Ramsey did not send me."

"Liar," the woman hissed. She jabbed a finger at Elise and Elise scrambled to her feet. The woman began weeping. "Never," she repeated. "My flux will never pass. I won't spread my legs for him again." She fell into a fit of loud wails.

Elise backed up. The poor soul was mad. Tears streamed down Elise's face. Ramsey. She couldn't remember his face—Price had drugged her before bringing her to the sanitarium—but she could imagine all too easily what he was like. How many other women had he abused? She turned and fled the room.

Ignoring the feel of the stiff, filthy fabric, she ran toward the stairs. Her stomach roiled. Still she ran. A noise sounded behind her. She jerked her head around to glance over her shoulder but saw nothing. Another inmate of the many rooms? She faced forward again, slamming into what, at first, felt like a stone wall. She recognized the fingers of steel that gripped her shoulders even before she looked up into the face of Ramsey.

"Release me!" Elise shouted.

She thrashed wildly and Ramsey's grip on her shoulders turned painful.

"Well, now," he said, his Irish brogue sharpened with raucous laughter, "what have we here?"

"Let me go!" She struggled harder, despite the pain of his beefy fingers digging still deeper into her skin. "My husband—" she began, but he cut her off with more foul laughter.

"Your husband committed you, my bonnie girl. So don't bother threatening revenge."

"Price Ardsley is
not
my husband."

"Don't know the man's name. Don't care. He put you here and plainly doesn't plan on you ever seeing the light of day." Ramsey yanked her to him and, with one hand, stroked her hair. "That leaves you and I to sport, eh?"

Elise raised a foot and stomped on the top of his boot. He yelped and leapt back. She whirled and lunged forward.

"Bloody fool wench!"

He seized her from behind and flung her against the wall. Ramsey crashed into her back, knocking the breath from her. He snaked a hand around her waist. Elise wedged her hands between herself and the wall and clawed at his fingers.

"Damn—" he hissed, pulling his hand free.

He grabbed her arms and yanked them back. Her arms felt as though they would tear from their sockets as he crushed her to the wall.

"You're a plucky one," he wheezed in her ear. "Most wenches here are too daft to even know their names. Takes all the fun out of the play."

He pinned her arms between their bodies with one hand, then rammed the fingers of his free hand into her hair. Elise jerked her head aside, but he mashed her cheek against the wall.

"You haven't had a bath since coming here, but Sara kept you cleaned up where it counts." He thrust his hips against her.

Elise's stomach churned, more at the knowledge of the shared intimacy when Sara had tended to her than the feel of his erection digging into the cleft of her buttocks.

"Not a pretty sight," he went on. "Until she cleaned you up, that is. Then," he roughly ground himself against her, "I knew you and I would be spending time together. I was waiting for the right time." He laughed again. "You decided you wanted me now, eh?"

She shoved hard against the wall in an attempt to thrust his body away from hers, but he slammed back all the more brutally, groaning when their bodies jammed together. His fingers tightened in her hair and she cried out in pain.

"Aye, my girl," he rasped. "Scream. In this place, no one will care, and I like it."

He released her hair and forced his hand into the small of her back where his belt had been digging into her flesh. His belt jingled and, for the first time, Elise felt loathing and fear vie in earnest with outrage. Her body trembled and her knees weakened. She twisted, but he yanked back on her arms, and she felt her arms begin to separate from their sockets.

His belt and trousers hit the floor with the buckle landing with a dull clank. He grabbed her skirts and yanked them up. Elise kicked backwards with the heel of her foot, hitting the hard bone of his shin. He grunted, but only spread his legs and thrust his hips into her.

"I will not be another of your victims!" she shouted.

She grit her teeth and jerked her head backwards. The back of her head struck Ramsey's hard skull. He shrieked, yanking hard on her arms as he fell back a pace. Pain reverberated through her head. Elise bit her lip to halt the pain as he unexpectedly leapt back from her. Iron fingers seized her arm and she barely registered the difference in this and Ramsey's hold as she was spun her around.

Elise gasped.

Price Ardsley stared down at her.

* * * *

Two hours after the messenger arrived informing Marcus that Price had arrived at Danvers, a messenger arrived at the
Josephine
directing Marcus to come immediately to Price Ardsley's home. Half an hour later, Marcus was shown into his private study. A fire crackled in the hearth and Price sat behind the mahogany desk he had occupied when they had explained Elise's situation to Landen Shipping's board of directors. A tumbler of whiskey sat before Price. How would this man explain Elise's situation when the board members appeared here later this morning?

"Please," Price motioned to the chair in front of the desk, "have a seat."

Marcus sat.

"Would you like a drink?" Price asked, straightening.

"Nay."

Price leaned back. "Word will arrive any moment that Elise has been safely deposited aboard the
Josephine.
"

"You had until this evening. Why bring her so early?"

"I thought her speedy return would please you."

"Her not being abducted would have pleased me."

"Rest assured she is safe. So long as she—you both—remain in Scotland. You've said nothing about the boy." Price sipped his drink.

"He is no threat to you."

"He won't take lightly that I kept his sister prisoner."

"I have convinced him to accompany us to Scotland," Marcus gave the planned answer.

Price seemed to contemplate this. "The longer the stay, the better."

"Aye," Marcus agreed.

The sound of boots on carpeted floor were heard, and Price said, "That would be our young friend now."

As if on cue, the door opened and Steven entered. "Elise is safely on the
Josephine.
"

"She is well?" Marcus asked with as much calm as he could exert.

Steven turned his glare to Price. "She has a dislocated shoulder and looks as if she hasn't bathed since her abduction."

Marcus jerked his gaze back to Price and barely managed to check the compulsion to lunge across the desk.

"Your brother-in-law will now take a message to the captain that he is to set sail before the hour is up," Price said.

"I will not leave," Steven shot back.

"Aye, you will." Marcus prayed the boy wouldn't pull the pistol he'd noticed stuffed into his waistband. "You have pen and paper?"

Price produced paper from a desk drawer and laid it before Marcus as he scooted the quill, sitting at his left, up alongside the paper. Marcus wrote the note instructing the
Josephine
to set sail immediately, then folded the missive and extended it toward Steven.

"Anyone can deliver this," Steven protested.

Marcus shook his head. "You take it, lad, and be on the ship when she sails." This Marcus had
not
discussed with Steven, for the boy would not have agreed. Chances were, he wouldn't obey now.

Steven looked from Marcus to Price, then snatched the note from Marcus's grasp. He settled his gaze on Price. "We aren't finished."

Price nodded with a sigh and Steven faced Marcus. "You shouldn't have come here."

"Take care of Elise," Marcus said.

"That I will," he said, and left.

Marcus focused on Price. "My father, the Duke of Ashlund, will be waiting for the
Josephine
when she arrives. If anything happens to Elise or Steven, if any attempts are made to harm either of them, someone will set sail from Scotland before I step onto Scottish soil."

"I have no intention of harming Elise."

Aye, neither will you harm her brother,
Marcus silently added
.
"How long am I to wait here?" Marcus asked.

"Until word arrives that the
Josephine
is well out of Boston Harbor. I estimate two hours."

"A guard stands outside this door?"

Price gave a single nod.

"I would have preferred to wait at one of the harbor taverns," Marcus said, not feeling the slightest twinge of guilt at the lie. He had planned all along to be here when the men of Landen Shipping arrived on Ardsley's door about the same time the
Josephine
left Boston Harbor.

"Shall I have refreshments served?" Price asked.

"Nay," Marcus replied. "I dine only with friends."

Nearly two hours of silence later, there came a quick knock on the library door. Price looked toward the door as it opened and Simons entered.

"Sir," the butler said out of breath, "Mister Brentley and the other gentlemen from Landen Shipping are downstairs. They are demanding to see you—" A pounding of footsteps in the hallway intruded into Simon's speech. "There they are, sir. I feared they would not wait."

Brentley appeared in the doorway. The rest of Landen Shipping's board of directors piled up behind him. Brentley stepped inside the room and looked at Marcus, who rose.

"We have just come from the
Josephine
," Brentley said.

"The
Josephine
?" Price asked evenly.

"Yes," Brentley replied, and the room broke out into a babble of voices. "Gentlemen," he shouted. "Gentlemen, please!"

Another figure appeared behind the men. The din quieted as Steven pushed past them and halted beside Marcus.

"You should have sailed on the
Josephine
," Marcus said.

"As should you have," Steven replied.

"Price," Brentley said, "we have just spoken with Miss Poteck and Elise."

"Miss Poteck?" Price said as if he had never heard the name in his life.

"Don't," Brentley cut in, his quiet voice harsh. He produced two folded pieces of paper from his front coat pocket. He unfolded them and held up one. "This is a signed affidavit from Miss Poteck, explaining in detail how you paid her to impersonate Elise Kingston." Price frowned, but Brentley went on. "This," he lifted the other document, "is Elise's statement." He continued in a half strangled voice, "She swears you kidnapped her in Scotland and brought her to Boston against her will, then incarcerated her in Danvers Hospital." Marcus's heart raced as if hearing this for the first time. Brentley lowered the papers. "If I had been given this information without the benefit of witnesses, I would put a bullet between your eyes."

A murmur circulated through the men. Surprise flickered across Price's impassive face. Marcus had the sudden urge to slip the knife from his boot and throw it at him. However, the mental image of Price's fine white shirt darkening with his blood dissipated when Brentley said, "As it is, I will have to satisfy myself with the punishment allowed by the law. As you may know, Judge Quinley and I are well acquainted. I will see to it he takes a personal interest in this case. I have always known you were a scoundrel, but this"—Brentley faltered—"this goes beyond anything I could have imagined."

He shook his head, his blue eyes clouded with disbelief. "The things Elise claims in this document…" He paused and held Price's gaze. "It's a wonder the girl survived." He looked at Marcus. "You have my deepest sympathies, Lord Ashlund."

Marcus's gut twisted. What more was wrong with Elise than Steven had admitted? What had Brentley seen that the younger man hadn't? Marcus gave a single nod and, once again, everyone began talking. He glanced at Ardsley. Price met his gaze with the same unruffled expression he always wore. A chill passed through Marcus. He turned and left the room.

A moment later, Marcus and Steven stepped from the mansion out onto the front steps. Marcus looked from the boy who stood at the bottom of the stairs holding his and Steven's horses across the trees surrounding the mansion to the sky that hinted at dawn. He and Steven strode down the steps, mounted their horses and urged them into a walk. They rode in silence until passing from the gates.

"Elise is safely sailed on the
Surrey
?" Marcus asked.

"Justin smuggled her off the
Josephine
. An easy feat with the
Surrey
docked only two slips down. I watched the ship sail. No one suspected a thing, including Brentley and the others."

Marcus allowed the first breath of relief since Elise had gone missing. Autumn was just beginning. The journey would be an easy one. "Steven," he said in a quiet voice, "is she truly well?"

"As I said, her shoulder is dislocated and she hasn't bathed since leaving Scotland."

"Otherwise?"

Steven hesitated, then said, "In a way, she's the Elise I knew; in a way, she isn't." He paused. "She has passed through fire since I last saw her, but losing Amelia changed her, and there is her marriage to you."

"We were wed but a night when Price took her."

Steven blew out a breath. "You didn't mention that."

Marcus looked at him. "She is my wife. It doesn't matter whether for a day or a year."

"I suppose not." Another moment of silence passed and Steven said, "She had no idea you were coming for her."

Marcus jerked his gaze onto Steven.

"I believe she had hoped you wouldn't come."

"Bloody hell," Marcus burst out. "Why?"

"It's easy to see she lied to you."

"She didn't tell me about Ardsley."