Taken by the Laird (27 page)

“Y
ou’ll never get away with this, MacGowan!”

Brianna cried, tasting blood. “My husband will find you—”

“Can’t you gag her, MacGowan?” asked Roddington, his voice maddeningly casual.
Bored.

“No need. It’ll all be over before long.”

They’d come to a cellar at the bottom of the steps, and Brianna knew the caved-in pantry must be just above it. Or, no, ’twas beside it. MacGowan shoved her through the cavernous room, past all its rotting wooden arches until they reached a group of large barrels, stacked one on top of the other, against the far wall, and covered in dust and cobwebs. “Open that cask on the end, Roddy.”

Roddington picked up an iron bar and pried open the top of one barrel that had nothing on top of it. MacGowan shoved Brianna toward it.

“No!” she cried, redoubling her struggle against the burly man who held her. If they forced her into
that chest-high drum and sealed the lid, she would be doomed for certain.

MacGowan dragged her to it and tried to shove her into it. But there was something revolting inside, lying at the bottom in an acrid-smelling liquid. “Bend, damn ye!” MacGowan growled, trying to force Brianna over the edge and into the disgusting liquid. But she was not about to let it happen. She struggled mightily and screamed when he suddenly picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

Her hands were still bound, and her shoulders shrieked in pain as she tumbled down MacGowan’s torso. She screamed as loud as she could as she lashed out with her feet, doing as much damage to the wicked man as possible.

“Shut yer trap!” he shouted, but he jumped back suddenly, and dropped Brianna to the cold floor. “Wha’?”

“Good God!” Roddington cried.

‘Twas the ghost, her bright form nearly solid as she hovered over the barrel where they’d meant to stow Brianna.

Bree ignored the pains in her wrists and legs and pushed herself up to her knees, scooting away to wriggle out of the bindings at her wrists. She was never so happy to see Glenloch’s specter as she was at that moment.

And then Hugh suddenly appeared at the mouth of the dark staircase. He took one look at her, then roared with fury and charged into MacGowan, knocking the man up against an arch that cracked and buckled when he hit it. Hugh took hold of MacGowan’s coat and gave
him a bone-crunching punch in the jaw, but MacGowan struck back, and they exchanged blows until their encounter turned into a full brawl.

In the thick of it, Hugh called out to her. “Brianna, are you all right?”

“Yes!” she cried, still struggling with the ropes on her wrists. She could hardly credit his arrival. It warmed her, and gave her hope, yet she was terrified for him. There were two of them—MacGowan and Roddington—and they meant to kill. “Hugh, watch out—”

MacGowan delivered a powerful blow that pitched Hugh violently into the same cracked beam. The ceiling and the rest of the beams creaked ominously, and dust and debris started falling from the ceiling. Another arch cracked.

“Hugh, we must get out of here! I think the ceiling is going to collapse!”

But MacGowan had the upper hand, grabbing fistfuls of Hugh’s jacket to pull him up from the base of the arch. Brianna flinched when he drew his meaty fist back to deliver a disastrous blow, but Hugh blocked it with his arm and pummeled MacGowan’s abdomen with both fists. Hugh gave no quarter, forcing MacGowan to back up, even as the man tried to defend himself.

Dust was raining down on them now, but the brawl continued, each man swiping at the other verbally as well as physically. They careened into the row of barrels, and two of the huge casks fell, crashing into pieces of rotting wood and copper as they rolled away, spilling their sour contents onto the stone floor.

“Is this where you hide your ill-gotten proceeds,
MacGowan?” Hugh demanded. “Down in this decrepit hole?”

“Ye should hae kept yerself in London, Laird,” MacGowan rasped. “But doona fret, I’ll see to it ye never return there.”

“In your dreams, lad,” Hugh said with a harsh laugh, and Brianna wished he would not be quite so cavalier. MacGowan’s face had turned to a deep red and he was grunting with cruel intent. Brianna feared one of his vicious punches would eventually catch Hugh in the face, or knock him against one of the beams, perhaps a killing blow.

She wished her husband would finish the man, allowing them to flee the dangerous room, but MacGowan was Hugh’s equal in stature, if not finesse. His blows made contact often enough that Brianna feared for the outcome of the struggle, and she knew she had to try and help him.

Roddington was slinking away toward the stairs. Hugh saw him, but he was fully engaged in the fight against MacGowan, and he knew it was a fight to the death. His former estate manager could not afford to let Hugh or Brianna escape.

They battled with fists and knees, grinding into one another as they fought, crashing into walls and joists as dirt fluttered down from the ceiling. He could hear the framework of the room splintering apart in his ears, and knew Brianna was right—the room was going to cave in, and he needed to get her away from there.

“Brianna! Go for the stairs! Get out of here!”

But Roddington was heading in that direction, and Hugh didn’t want her anywhere near him. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw her free her hands and go after the rotten marquess, but his distraction cost him, and MacGowan got the upper hand. MacGowan delivered a cruel blow to the abdomen, but Hugh kept his head down and butted viciously into his adversary, knocking him to the floor.

Hugh started for Roddington, but MacGowan grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him down. Just then, Brianna picked up a metal bar from the ground near the barrels. Wielding it with both hands, she started for Roddington, but a huge beam crashed down from the center of the ceiling, with an attendant load of debris. She could not get past it to the marquess, but that was the only way out.

“Hugh!”

“I know! We’ve got to find a way—”

They needed an escape route, but the staircase was blocked.

“Come with me!” she shouted.

The floor above her groaned ominously, and a sudden mass of rubble fell directly in front of her, covering her with dust.

“Brianna! Move, love! Get—”

MacGowan suddenly shoved him away and made a wild dash for the steps, just as another huge piece of the ceiling crashed down, blocking the stairs entirely. Hugh regained his balance and went to Brianna then, grabbing the lamp and taking her hand to pull her toward the bar
rels. “Look! We can climb up and out this way!”

Hugh lifted her onto a closed barrel and pointed past her to a wide crevice that had opened between the top of the wall and the ceiling. “Climb up and slide through that space. Hurry, sweetheart!”

He climbed up behind her and when he looked back, he saw that the rest of the cellar was already falling in on itself. Below him was an open barrel, and he shuddered as he looked down and saw its gruesome contents.

The crashing sounds behind them propelled Brianna, and she managed to scramble quickly to the top of the next barrel. Once there, she wasted no time sliding through the opening, which placed her inside the precarious walls of the pantry. Hugh handed her the lamp, and she moved away from the opening to allow him enough room to get through. He managed to push his way out of the cellar just as he heard another loud crack. The entire room was collapsing.

“Come on, Brianna! We’ve got to get out of here!”

He scrambled to his feet and raised the lamp high so they could get their bearings, then grabbed her hand and made for one of the broken-down walls of the old pantry. With all possible speed, they slipped through a decrepit doorway and started running through the snow as far from the castle as they could go, before the entire tower cracked and split and crumbled to the ground below.

When he judged that they were far enough away from the disaster to escape injury, Hugh pulled Brianna into
his arms. She clung to him, her face against his chest as she trembled violently. But she was right where he wanted her.

The sea crashed behind them, and snow fell all around, but Hugh did not need to look to know that the north tower of Castle Glenloch lay in a rubble of rock and dust before them.

“I feared I’d lost you,” Hugh murmured against her head.

“No,” she said, holding him tightly. “MacGowan meant to murder me, but you came for me,” she added incredulously.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you. I was wrong…about so many things.”

She shook her head against his chest. “No. I had no right to interfere—”

“You had every right. You are my wife.” He slid his hands up to her shoulders, then higher, cupping her face. “You are my love, Brianna.”

She looked up at him, with doubt and disbelief in her beautiful eyes. “But I—”

He kissed her gently. “I love you, Brianna. Stay with me. Be my wife.”

Her chin quivered, and he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I-I don’t want to go back to Killiedown.” She pressed her body against his in a tight hug, tucking her head beneath his chin. “I love you, Hugh.”

His heart seemed to swell in his chest. “God, Brianna, you have no idea how glad I am to hear you say it. You are all that I want. All that I need.” He tipped up her face and kissed her again, then touched his fore
head to hers. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.”

She was still trembling, and he removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was such an idiot…”

“And I was sure you would never find me.”

“I wouldn’t have found you, but for the ghost.”

She drew back. “You saw it?”

“ ’Twas the ghost that led me to you.”

Brianna let out a quick breath of surprise. “She saved me from being drowned in that open barrel. She startled MacGowan and Roddington, and distracted them until you arrived.”

“Brianna…” He had to tell her now, tell her what he’d seen in that cellar, and they would never have to speak of it again. “I know why she’s been haunting Glenloch.”

“You do?”

He nodded, still horrified by her close brush with death. She might have met the same fate as their glimmering ghost, and been doomed to roam Glenloch’s halls and galleries forever. “There was a body—a skeleton, really—in the open cask.”

“I saw something in the one they meant to drown me in.” He felt her shudder. “Was that…Was it in there?”

“Yes. I saw it when I climbed up behind you,” he said. “I think she must have been killed and her body hidden in that barrel of spirits.”

“Oh dear heavens.” Her trembling increased.

“Come on. You’re freezing. We have to get you inside.”

Hugh lifted the lamp, and they could see the disaster. The tower was completely gone. “I don’t think MacGowan and Roddington could have survived that collapse.”

Brianna took in a sharp breath.

“We’ll have to excavate the site for their bodies,” he said.

“How awful.”

“ ’Tis no less than they deserved for what they planned for you.”

“ ’Tis horrible, nonetheless. And the Glenloch Ghost…Might we recover her bones, too, and give her a decent burial?”

“Of course, love. Our ghost surely deserves to rest now.”

St. George’s Church, London. June 1830.

“I
had a letter from Falkburn yesterday,” Hugh said.

They’d left their carriage and were walking the last block to St. George’s Church for Sunday services. ’Twas only an hour after they’d climbed from their soft, comfortable bed at Newbury House. The glow of their lovemaking still filled Brianna.

As did their child, who would make its appearance well before the year’s end.

Hugh reached down and slid a wispy lock of her hair behind her ear, oblivious to the sidelong glances his intimate act garnered from the very proper matrons who passed them by. She supposed she should be relieved that he hadn’t run his hand down the slight curve of her belly, as he was wont to do.

“Mmmm?” Brianna drew her hand more deeply into the crook of Hugh’s arm and moved closer to him as they walked. Perhaps they should have stayed home in bed, for she craved his touch more than ever. “What did Mr. MacTavish have to say?”

“He asks whether we’re ready to return to Glenloch. The new manor house is nearly finished.”

Hugh had razed the entire castle soon after the bodies of Roddington and MacGowan had been recovered. The place had been fraught with unpleasant memories for Hugh, with its history of violence and the deceit he would no longer countenance. His father’s whip, Amelia’s locket, and the drawing of the sailing ship that reflected Hugh’s futile pining for his lost friend had all been destroyed with the building.

Hugh had had to explain the significance of Amelia’s sponges and the vinegar in her dressing table, and then they both knew the extent of her betrayal. Instead of giving Hugh her honesty, instead of living up to the responsibilities of her marriage, Amelia had become sullen and resentful, making both their lives as miserable as possible.

Even so, Brianna knew Hugh regretted that she’d somehow interfered in Roddington’s dealings with MacGowan. The hints the two had given Brianna made it almost certain that they were responsible for Amelia’s death, as well as Kincaid’s. And the blackguards had nearly managed to cause Brianna’s early demise. In spite of her narrow escape, she and Hugh were both glad to have discovered the body of the young woman
in the cellar—the Glenloch Ghost—who had haunted the castle for centuries.

Hugh had seen to it that she received a Christian burial, in spite of the fact that her name was unknown. Everyone in Falkburn believed she must have been the daughter of an ancient laird who was said to have disappeared. In any case, it had not been too difficult to persuade the vicar to bury her in the village churchyard.

“Are you certain ’tis all right for you to be walking so far?” he asked her.

“This is not far at all,” she said with a joyful laugh. The sun was shining, her heart was full, and she was walking beside the man she loved. “And since you do not want me to ride any more, I must find some way to exercise my legs. Tell me what Mr. MacTavish had to say about Glenloch.”

“The barley is in and growing,” he replied. “Our builder and the engineer are still up there, overseeing the construction of the new house and the distillery, and making sure all is being done according to the highest standards. We’ll be ready to make whisky this autumn after the crop is in.”

She smiled at his enthusiasm for the project. Visiting Glenloch was going to be an entirely different experience for Hugh now, with the castle gone, and the distillery standing in its place. The new house was being built much closer to Falkburn, to the village residents who would soon be earning their income from the new venture. Fortunately, they had the proceeds from Roddington’s purse—money that had been swindled from
them—to help carry them through until then.

“Do you regret tearing down the castle?”

“Not at all,” he replied, his dark visage lighter than she’d ever seen it. “Naught has ever given me such satisfaction. ‘Twas a horrid place, but for meeting you there.”

“I will not disagree, husband.”

“And I’m doubly glad that we’re out of the free-trading business,” he added. “No doubt Captain Benoit will have plenty of others to take our place, but there will be no more violence for the sake of Glenloch’s brandy.”

“I would like to meet Captain Benoit one day,” Bree said. “I have a question I’d like to ask him.”

Hugh looked at her curiously, but then smiled. “Whatever you wish, love.”

They entered the church, and he steered her toward two seats that were as far as possible from where Lord Stamford and his family were already seated. Somehow, the Crandalls had lost favor with the more influential hostesses of the ton, and Brianna rarely saw them at any of the balls or soirees she and Hugh attended.

It did not bother her in the least.

She looked to the altar where she might have married Roddington had she not acted so impulsively that cold December night, and thanked God that she had been taken in by the Laird of Glenloch instead. Had they not been in church right then, Brianna would have kissed him, pouring into it all the passion and love she felt for him.

“I cannot imagine being happier, or loving anyone
more than I do you,” she said, pulling him down slightly to whisper in his ear.

“Brianna…” He squeezed her hand and looked down at her, his eyes reflecting all the love and happiness they shared. Speaking so that only she could hear, he said, “You take my breath away. I would never have believed it a few months ago, but you have given me a life, and a future. I love you.”