Sizzle All Day (36 page)

Gillian rubbed her temples and said, "David intends to go home."

"What? But I'm missing."

"That doesn't seem to matter. He told your mother to gather her things, that you knew your way home. Annabelle, what happened? Why is he being so hard-headed? Did something happen between the two of you?"

She grimaced and dipped her chin. "Maybe. He said something especially mean to me, and I... well... I said something I probably shouldn't have said."

"What?"

"I told him mmpht mmpht mmpht mmpht." She kicked at the carpet with the toe of her slipper.

"Don't mumble, Annabelle. What did you say?"

"I just might possibly have made mention that in comparison to your Jake he comes up a little... short."

Flora and Chrissy looked puzzled. Gillian's chin gaped in shock. "You didn't."

She shrugged. "It's the truth."

"What's she talk—" Chrissy's eyes went wide. "No. Jake? You saw his... no, never mind. I don't want to know."

Gillian rubbed her temples. "No wonder he's furious. Annabelle, what possessed you to say such a foolish thing as that?"

"He compared me to you and it wasn't a favorable comparison. If I didn't like you so much, Gillian, I'd want to shoot you again. I'm very tired of hearing about how wonderful you are."

"Guid fegs," Flora breathed.

Gillian threw out her hands. "Well, we might as well give up. Ah our planning has gone for naught. He's leaving and—"

"You've got to stop him, Gillian." Annabelle clasped her hands to her chest and begged. "You must. I know I can fix the problems if I can get him alone in the dungeon like we've planned. I know I can. I've been practicing with the feathers, just like you told me to do!"

Chrissy and Flora exchanged interested glances, then turned their attention on Gillian.

"Please, Gillian. Stop him from leaving. Do anything, just give me a chance!"

"Oh, all right. I'll try. But I don't know what I'll say. This isn't what we had planned."

"You'll think of something," Flora encouraged. "You always do."

Gillian proved Flora right. She thought of something, just not anything very smart. Her efforts to mend the Macleans' marriage appeared to be causing more harm than good. At least, that's what a furious and tearful Annabelle declared when she learned David had agreed to stay the night at Rowanclere, after all.

He'd agreed to stay because Gillian Delaney had promised to meet him for a romantic assignation in the dungeon bedchamber at three a.m.

* * *

"If he touches you, I'll kill him. In fact, if he looks at you, I'll kill him. Maybe all he'll have to do is say 'howdy' and it'll be off with his head."

"Haud yer wheest, Texas," Gillian said as she adjusted the pleats of the feileadh mor around her husband's hips.

In a temper, he ignored her. "I should have put a stop to this idea of yours the first time I heard about it. I knew it was stupid from the git-go. You're no matchmaker, Gillian Delaney. You're a matchbreaker."

"What a terrible thing to say!" She gave his plaid a sharp tug. "It was a simple plan that would have worked fine had Annabelle not been so cat-witted as to tell her husband his quhillylillie is smaller than yours."

Jake arched a brow. "Quhillylillie?"

"Your manhood."

"Oh." He proudly squared his shoulders. "Of course I'm bigger."

Gillian rolled her eyes, then slapped his behind. "Oh, hush and go haunt Henrietta."

"Aren't you coming? Aren't you gonna watch? This won't be any fun if you're not watching."

"I'll be there. I'll hide in the passageway and watch. I wouldn't miss this for anything. First I want to make a quick run down to the dungeon to check on the chamber room and Annabelle to see if she has any last questions."

"Think that's smart? Last time I saw her, she was angry enough to lock you in."

Gillian sighed. "I know. I hate to admit this, but you may be right. Meddling in the Macleans' marriage might not have been a good idea."

He hated seeing her blue. "Oh, don't listen to me. It'll all work out. I have a feeling that by sunup, Annabelle and her husband will be minus one meddling mother-in-law and well on their way toward reconciliation."

"You honestly think so?"

"Princess, I'm of a mind to be a damned convincing ghost, and as far as the reconciliation goes, well... if you taught that girl how to handle a feather half as good as you, then ol' David doesn't stand a chance."

* * *

Gillian carried a lantern as she hurried down to the dungeon. After the rough start to her plan, she wanted to be certain this next part went as smoothly as possible. She had grown to care about Annabelle and she'd always have a soft spot in her heart for David. She truly hoped that tonight's events would guide their marriage back on course. In fact, the success of the plan had become rather important to her. She couldn't put her finger on why, exactly, except that she thought it somehow involved the notion of leaving Scotland on a positive note.

"You're as crazy as Jake claims," she muttered to herself, making her way down the dungeon stairs.

David wasn't due for another hour, but she expected to find Annabelle already in place. From the first, the idea of a dalliance in the dungeon had been Annabelle's favorite part of the plan. They'd spent quite a bit of time choosing a gown for her to wear—or not wear, as the case may be. They'd collected rose petals to spread across the bed, stashed champagne and scented candles and a fresh batch of chocolate icing—Chrissy Morgan's contribution to the proceedings.

Gillian had half a mind to swipe that last supply for her own use tonight. After all, Annabelle wouldn't want to overwhelm the man. From Gillian's experience, the feather trick would certainly get the job done.

With such sensual delights on her mind, Gillian was understandably shocked to walk into the dungeon chamber and discover supplies of another type entirely on display and ready for use.

David's wife sat in a bedside chair, polishing a torture device with a cloth. "Annabelle? What are you doing with that Cat's Paw?"

"Cleaning it. Really, Gillian, the housekeeping in your dungeon is appalling. I had to clean spider webs off the branks and oil the thumbscrews. The headcrusher is rusted in two and completely useless."

Gillian closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose. "What happened to champagne and rose petals? What happened to chocolate icing?"

Annabelle paused and looked up. "I won't be needing them."

"Oh, Annabelle," Gillian said with a sigh.

The young wife threw down her polishing cloth and tossed the Cat's Paw onto the bed. "I'm done with him, Gillian. He's gone too far. I'm missing and in danger, and all he can think about is resuming his love affair with you. Well, I won't stand for it. He's going to pay for hurting me. I have the thumbscrews warmed up and ready for him, only it won't be his thumb that I'm putting the screw to."

"Now, calm down. I think I've figured out what's happening here. It's something he said tonight about how you liked to play games. I think he knows you're not missing. I think he's playing games just like you. That's part of what's wrong with your marriage, Annabelle. Too much game-playing and not enough truth."

"Well, the games are just beginning." Annabelle folded her arms, angled her head, and studied Gillian for a moment.

"What? What is it?"

"I've an idea. Perhaps I won't need to torture him after all?"

Oh, no. It was Gillian's experience that whenever Annabelle started thinking on her own, trouble threatened.

Standing, Annabelle walked over to one wall and lifted an iron manacle. "I'll use the shackles. It won't hurt him one bit. Come see how I fixed it, Gillian. I want to show you."

"No. You canna do this. I won't—"

"Oh, come on. I want you to see how smart I was. I fixed it so David won't even feel it." She held the manacle out. "See?"

Gillian indulged her, mainly because she was trying to come up with an argument to cool the young woman's temper. "How did you fix it?"

"I'll show you."

Before Gillian quite knew what had happened, Annabelle slapped the cuff around Gillian's wrist and snapped it shut. Gillian pulled on her arm, not believing what had happened. She expected the bolt to pull loose from the wall. It didn't.

"Annabelle!"

The young woman actually laughed. "I was right, wasn't I? It won't hurt David a bit because I'm using the irons on you instead."

She grabbed for Gillian's other arm and wrestled it toward the wall and the iron cuff. Gillian struggled, but Annabelle had an advantage in both height and weight. Soon both of Gillian's arms were chained to the dungeon wall. "What in heaven's name is going on here?"

"Give me your feet." Gillian started kicking when Annabelle went for her leg, but the blows failed to deter the younger woman. Moments later, Gillian found herself completely shackled to the wall. She was breathing heavy as a result of her struggles, but her tone nonetheless reflected bewilderment as she said, "Annabelle?"

David Maclean's wife looked at her, tears swimming in her big brown eyes. "I want him to choose me, Gillian. Not you. One time, I want him to choose me."

She started sobbing, then, her tears flowing like whisky at the foy. Gillian rolled her eyes and sighed. "There's a handkerchief in my pocket."

"Th-th-thank you."

Gillian waited for a few moments for the waterworks to subside, then asked, "Honey, I understand what you want of your husband, but explain this, please? How does chaining me to the wall present David with a choice?"

"I don't exactly know. It's just they were there and you were here and it seemed like the thing to do."

"It's uncomfortable, Annabelle. My arms are beginning to ache a bit. Please, fetch the key and let me loose."

"No. I'm sorry. I'm not going to do that. I'm going to find some way to restrain myself so that we're both in trouble. There's a rack in one of the other rooms. I wonder if I could somehow fasten myself to it. We'll both wait for him, Gillian, and then he must choose. He must choose between us, and he must choose me. I must know once and for all that he truly does want me and not you. Otherwise... well... I just might use the thumbscrew after all!" With that, Annabelle sailed out of the chamber room.

Gillian leaned back against the cold rock wall, she raided her chains, then exhaled a tired sigh. "They were here. I was here. A simple plan. To borrow a phrase from Jake, 'Sometimes, Gillian, you don't have the sense God gave a goat.'"

Chapter 16

Jake waited in the passageway outside Henrietta Lehrman's room for half an hour, but Gillian never arrived. It made him grumpy. He was doing this for her, after all. The least she could do was show up to watch. He'd been practicing his accent too. He'd wanted to impress her.

She was probably down in the dungeon holding Annabelle's hand. Ol' Maclean had his hands full with that one. The girl was pretty and fun to be around, but her mind traveled different paths than most folks'. Though he'd never say so to Gillian, the more time he spent with Annabelle, the more he wondered if helping the Macleans' marriage was more a vengeance instead of friendship.

He waited ten more minutes, then decided he'd waited long enough. The black face paint was beginning to itch and besides, he was worried a bit about Gillian.

Without an audience to play to, he wasn't much for dragging this haunting out. Still, he wanted to do a good job and redeem himself for his poor showing at haunting Harrington. He marched over to the bed and moaned, "Woo... woo... woo."

When she opened her eyes, he grinned evilly and said, "I'm the Headless Warrior of Rowanclere and you are my chosen one."

Damned if she didn't pull a gun. "Get away! Get away! I'll shoot you!"

Idiot woman
. "Why the hell would you do something dumb like that?" he said, grabbing the revolver away from her. "I'm a ghost. I'm already dead!"

"Oh. That's right. It's just that I'm frightened."

"You should be frightened. That's why I'm here. That's what ghosts do. We frighten people."

"M-m-mr. Delaney said you k-k-kill people."

"Aye, I scare them to death. I haunt viper-tongued harridans who cause trouble in their daughters' marriages. I'm a fine ghost, Henrietta Lehrman. You will look forward to dying by the time I'm through with you."

"Now that's an awful thing to say. Why I..."

Jake quit listening. In deference to her gender, he had intended to keep his haunting as tame as possible and still get the job done. Judging from the unending stream of complaints emerging from her mouth, he'd need to step up the threats or he'd be here all night.

Besides, he was worried about Gillian and he wanted this job done.

"Enough!" he yelled at the same time he secretly pulled a trio of strings at the ready. A vase flew off the mantel. A chair tipped over and one of the bed curtains came loose from its mooring and floated down on top of Henrietta Lehrman. "Consider this your only warning, madam. In order to save your life, you must leave Rowanclere at first light, and Scotland within the fortnight. Otherwise, I'll haunt you daily until you give up the ghost, so to speak."