In the Heart of the Highlander (25 page)

Chapter

35

Monday, June 13, 1904

A
t some point, Mary must have fallen asleep, for here she was, waking. Which was good, for her dream had been filled with crowded city streets, noxious air, cars backfiring, horses whinnying desperately—worlds away from the peaceful stone house. London awaited, and judging from her jangled dream, she was not anxious to go back to the chaos.

She was alone, a dented pillow the only sign that Alec had ever been beside her. The bedclothes were pulled up and the curtain on the little window mostly drawn. There had been no hanky-panky in the night—Mary’s nightgown was still buttoned up to her chin and her lips remained unkissed. She was as well-made as Alec’s half of the bed.

She sat up and listened, hearing nothing but birdsong and the hiss and crackle of the parlor fire. It was chilly, and still early, the pale lemon light slanting through the wavy glass onto the bare wood floor. She sniffed, and did not detect the aromas of coffee or bacon.

Mary sensed Alec wasn’t in the house—it was just too still. He must be in the privy, so she found the ironstone chamber pot under the bed, then washed her hands and face. Alec had brought in water while she slept, as well as started the fire. He had been so quiet she hadn’t heard a thing, so maybe she
would
find him on the sofa, waiting for her to wake up.

But he was not. The parlor was empty, yet cozy from the fire. Mary resisted standing before it in her dressing gown, for there were things to do.

Alec had spoken of a surprise, but she could surprise him, too. Mary more or less knew her way around a kitchen, at least when it came to the basics, although she was very much out of practice. Mrs. Norris, her cook in Town was too fabulous to interfere with, but here was her chance. She would put together something from the hampers for their breakfast and do her part.

He’d thought to light the fire in the old range before he left, too, and she pumped water into a kettle for tea. The shelves were stocked with simple ironstone, and she set the table. She found the diminished ham, sliced it into a pan to fry. There did not seem to be any eggs, but there was bread and jam and cheese. Her stomach rumbled in an unladylike fashion, but she would wait for Alec to return.

The edges of the ham curled up, and still Alec did not come back. Mary moved the pan to a back burner, then took it off the stove altogether. The tea leaves had been steeping in the pot for quite a while, too.

Goodness, what if he was ill in the privy? Or worse, had gone for a morning constitutional and tripped over a root or something? She pictured Alec unconscious on a woodland path. She’d never be able to drag him home, even if she could find him. Raeburn Court was a vast estate, and the road to the main house miles away.

It was not like her to borrow trouble, but Mary had had enough practice at the Evensong Agency to anticipate possible problems and their solutions.
A stitch in time saves nine
and all that. She just couldn’t remain at the table waiting. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to step out into the garden and call for him? She didn’t want to disturb his privacy, but if he needed her—

Mary didn’t bother to find her slippers or comb her hair. Alec would have to take her as he found her, just as he’d have to consume the dry ham and stewed tea. The grass was wet beneath her feet, and she noted with some dismay clumps of it stuck to her as she walked toward the small outbuilding in the corner of the walled garden.

“Alec? Good morning!”

There was no response. She knocked on the blue-painted door, and it swung open, revealing the empty wooden seat and a neat stack of toilet paper beside it. There was a small book on the earth floor that Mary did not think had been there last night. She picked it up—Shakespeare’s sonnets, unusual bathroom reading material, in her opinion—and tucked it into the pocket of her robe. It would be ruined if it remained on the damp ground. She really should have worn some shoes.

“Alec!” This time her voice was louder. Birds rustled in the bright green leaves, but Alec did not pop out from behind the bee skeps or scraggly rosebushes in the brick-walled garden.

He might be tinkering in the stable. The door was closed, so it was possible he hadn’t heard her. She opened it and looked in. Alec’s car was still covered with the tarp, but the sliding door to the estate road was open. He must have gone for a walk along the bumpy track. Determined now to eat her breakfast, she turned to leave.

And then something moved to her right.

“Don’t move, Fräulein Arden.”

Mary stood stock still. There was no question of who was in there with her.

What could she say that would sound calm and rational? Not, “What have you done with Alec, you bastard?”

She found that out soon enough. Bauer stepped out of the shadows and threw back the tarp with one hand, a remarkably shiny silver pistol in the other.

She would not scream. Would not. Alec lay crumpled on the seat of the car, his shirtless torso pale as snow. There was matted blood in his hair, and his eyes were closed, but she thought she saw his chest rise.

Did she really, or was that wishful thinking?

Bauer was disheveled, as though he’d been sleeping rough. Gone was all trace of the smooth seducer. She had never found him attractive, but now she wanted to claw his pale blue eyes out.

“Why did you do this to me, Mary? Were you in his employ all along?”

“I d-don’t know what you are talking about.” Let him think she was witless. She scanned the stable for anything she might use against him. The rusty rake hung back on a wall, and a shovel lay next to the car. Bauer must have used it on Alec. She had no confidence she could reach either before he shot her.

“You set me up. Was it for money?”

“Wait just a minute! You set
me
up! You drugged me in order to rape me—I don’t think you’re in any position to cry foul. Just how many women did you trick that way? I suppose you had to—no one else would have you otherwise.” Mary had let her temper get the better of her, but she enjoyed watching his mouth drop open.

Her enjoyment was brief. He stepped across the shed and slapped her face. She stumbled backward, tripping on the phonograph beneath the ratty quilt, and landed on her bottom. She couldn’t very well beat him with the wax cylinders that rolled to the floor, but she clutched at the faded cotton fabric, thinking hard.

Her position was disadvantageous, to say the least. Bauer towered over her, the gun pointed at her head with an alarmingly steady hand.

“Why don’t you just shoot me?” Mary asked. It really was a very good question, and she wanted to know the answer.

“That would be much too easy. No, my dear, your baron is going to shoot you, and he will go on trial for your murder as he did not do for his poor wife.”

“Alec did not murder Edith,” Mary said.

“That is just what he has told you, you stupid thing. He pushed her out the window.”

Mary shook her head. “She jumped. She took her own life, because she was carrying your child, and the thought of any part of you inside her disgusted her.”

Bauer turned purple. “You lie! She was in love with me, and wanted us to run off together like some idiotic romance.”

“But you are married.”

Bauer raised a brow. “You know a lot about me.”

“I make it my business to know about people. You’ll never get away with this. Alec would never shoot me.”

“Who says I’ll wait for him to do the job? It will only look as if he has. The gun will be found in his hand, your lifeless body beside it. It is his pistol, by the way. So easy to gain entrance to Raeburn Court with no staff about. If Raeburn awakes, let him explain
that
away. I will be long gone before you are discovered by that useless brother of yours. It is good you shall be dead, not having to live with the shame of his proclivities. He was kissing Raeburn’s valet the last time I saw him.”

Poor Oliver. To be held in contempt by such a piece of slime like Bauer was insupportable.

“How did you find us?”

“It wasn’t hard to monitor the comings and goings, all the back and forth by the valet and the other brother. Evan, isn’t it? Soon to be the baron. And I watched your little show last night. The naked dancing. It was—what is the word in English?
Touching
. You would have been better off to go home.” He paused, giving her a wicked smile. “But then my plan might not be quite so entertaining. There is symmetry, no? First Raeburn tries to ruin me, and now I ruin him.”

Bauer’s words would not taint the beauty of what she and Alec had shared in the twilight. Mary’s heart beat too fast. She took a breath, then tried to center herself. She was not at the feet of a madman, and Alec was not lying injured—possibly dying—in the car. She was Mary Evensong, clever fixer. Godmother to people much older than she was.

“He’s rich. He can give you money to go away, to take your whole family. To go back to Austria, or wherever you want to go. I can persuade him.”

Bauer shook his head. “No, that won’t do. My reputation is in tatters.”

“You should have thought of that before you took advantage of so many young women.”

“I admit I made a mistake with you. And you are not really that young now, are you?”

Why argue with him? He spoke the truth.

“Were you even a virgin?” he asked.

“I
was
.” Mary looked up at him, defiant.

“Then Raeburn has a lot to answer for. The hypocrite.”

“I gave myself to him willingly. Which no rational woman would ever do with you.”

“Shut up!”

Mary’s tongue was running away with her. It was really rather remarkable that the man had not shot her already and called it good. But she thought if she kept arguing with him, he could not resist trying to dominate her. Maybe by some miracle, Alec would wake up or she could throw dirt in Bauer’s eyes or
something.

The ground proved too well packed. Mary would die with dirty fingernails.

“Will you shoot me where I’m sitting, or may I stand?”

“What does it matter?”

“I’ve read about firing squads. Aren’t the men lined up against a wall? So much easier to take proper aim for you.”

Bauer shrugged. “If that is what you wish. You English are mad.”

“Will you not give a hand like a gentleman to help me up?” Mary wasn’t sure she could rise on her own. “It is the least you can do.”

Another shrug. His left hand extended, the right still training the gun at her head.

She wouldn’t have much time, and it was apt to be awkward. She had been working the quilt away from the phonograph since she’d tripped over it. One good tug, and it might get free.

And Bauer would provide the tug.

Mary imagined she was bowling a cricket game. The quilt arced in the air and landed over Bauer. She hoped his mouth was open in surprise and some mouse droppings landed inside.

“Scheiss!” Bauer screamed, batting at the blanket.

Precisely.

She stuck out a bare, grass-covered foot, which the temporarily blinded man stumbled over.

The gun went off as he fell, and Bauer hit the ground. For a few long seconds, he struggled under the quilt, then didn’t move.

Mary raced to the wall and took down the rake. It looked much more lethal than the shovel, and she had no qualms whatsoever about using it.

Alec, Alec, please wake up
, she prayed. She raised the rake over Bauer, flipping the tine side away at the very last moment, and brought it down with a satisfying swoosh. She didn’t dare lift the blanket to see where he was injured. He was mercifully still—hopefully, he’d given himself a mortal wound and would be of no further threat.

Mary was shaking uncontrollably now, but held on to the rake as if it were a lifeline.

Then she hit Bauer with it again.

Perhaps she’d go to hell, for this and so many recent activities, but she hoped not.

“You’ve been busy, lass.”

Alec’s voice was faint, but audible. She turned to see him sitting up in the Pegasus, blood trickling from his scalp.

“Alec!” she cried.

“Not so loud. I’ve got a devil of a headache.” He pointed toward Bauer. “The good doctor, I presume? I never saw who hit me. Is he dead?”

“I don’t know. I daren’t look. I hope so.”

“Such savagery from a sweet little lady such as yourself. Help me get out of the car, Mary. Please.”

Mary offered her arm and Alec nearly fell out. “Seeing double. There are two of you, but what a bonny sight. Sorry I failed you.” He was unsteady on his feet, leaning against the wing.

“You didn’t fail me. Who could have imagined he’d come here?”

“I should have. We have to make sure he’s dead, Mary. Give me the rake to lean on.”

Mary wasn’t certain she could release her grip on it—she was as unsteady as he was. Her fingers uncurled with reluctance and she passed it to him, wondering what would hold
her
up.

Alec was barefoot, too, clad only in trousers and blood. He stepped across the floor, leaning heavily on the rake.

“You’re going to have to bend down and lift the corner of the quilt, Mary. I canna, or I’ll fall down. Dizzy.”