Daring (33 page)

Maggie raised her face. “We’re in love, Robert. I should think it was obvious.”

He swallowed hard as if this were more than he could accept. “People in strained circumstances sometimes fall prey to feelings they would not normally entertain. You have both feared for your lives. You have been forced into an unnatural relationship.”

Maggie shook her head. “It’s the most natural relationship I’ve ever known. I love him, Robert, and I would have loved him if we’d been two strangers who bumped into each other at a ball.”

Robert stared at her. “But he was only your bodyguard—”

“I’m not giving her up,” Connor said. “I can’t.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you have ruined my sister?” Robert said softly.

Sebastien smiled uneasily. “What a question. Can’t we just enjoy our reunion for now?”

Connor squared his shoulders, aware of the anger simmering beneath Robert’s silence. He couldn’t admit that he and Maggie had been intimate. Not to her own brother. He would never humiliate her that way.

“Tell him the truth,” Maggie said. “Connor, let my brother know what we did last night.”

“We drank wine and played cards,” Connor said stiffly. “Your sister is as pure as the day I met her.”

“No,” Maggie whispered.

Sebastien shot Connor a grateful look. “What did I tell you, Robert? His reputation is undeserved. He’s an honorable man.”

Robert grinned at Connor. “Forgive me for even asking. You see, I love Marguerite so very much, and if you had ruined her, I’m afraid I’d have had no choice but to call you out. She would have lost one of us to a duel.”

Connor blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, quite,” Robert replied, gazing at Maggie with tears in his eyes. “I saw one sister dishonored and was helpless to save her. I would cheerfully die before allowing that to happen again.”

Connor felt Maggie touch his arm again. “Please don’t fight him, Connor. Oh, please, please don’t,” she whispered. “I’ll handle this in my own way. Just allow us an evenin
g together to explain how I feel.
”

Numb, he shook his head. “No.”

“Yes.” She dug her fingers into his arm. “He means it. You don’t know him.”

He turned his head to stare down at her. “I’m not letting you go.”

“I won’t go. I promise.”

Connor’s throat tightened. She loved him, but she also loved her brother. What if Robert persuaded her to return to France for just a little while? What if, once she saw her home, she began to forget her bodyguard?

“Don’t leave me, Maggie,” he said.

“Let me be alone with my sister,” Robert said. “We have many things still to discuss.”

“Your coat, sir?” Claude said in blatant distaste, holding out Connor’s favorite hunting jacket with his face averted.

“I’ve enjoyed knowing you, Connor,” Sebastien called from the sideboard. “I hope you will keep in touch.”

A maid flittered into the room with a platter of petits fours.

Four burly footmen appeared to usher Connor out. He pushed them away, backing into the hall with his eyes never leaving Maggie’s face. “Who’s Bernard?” he shouted.

“He was my betrothed,” Maggie said hesitantly as, once again, a door to her was closed in his face. “You know how these old families are, Connor. Tradition, engagements made over the cradle. Don’t worry, though. I’ll straighten everything out.”

A
s Connor stood, stunned, in the dark unlit corridor, he could hear Robert’s voice ringing behind those closed doors.

“What a beast that man is, Marguerite, involving you in a kidnapping and murder case. I half expected him to start swinging a battle-ax at our heads. But then Scotland has never been a civilized country, has it? Ah, well. It is a good thing, perhaps, that we are in such a remote spot. It will make our departure in the morning that less conspicuous. We will have to contrive a respectable past for you, of course. The convent is safe, and Bernard will be none the wiser.”

Connor’s blood boiled as he waited outside that door for the refusal from Maggie that never came. And he was still
standing there, burning with betrayal twenty minutes later, listening to the cheerful sounds of family celebration within when the duchess found him.

H
e gave her a grim smile. “Robert is right about one thing. We Scots are still primitive in our rituals. By law Maggie and I would only have to pledge our troth to each other to be legally wed.”

“Then pledge it and get on with the bedding, if you haven’t taken care of that part already, which I suspect you have.” The duchess nodded briskly at Connor’s silence. “I thought so.”

“Hell, hell, hell.” He broke away from the door to kick the dark stone wall, stubbing his toe for his trouble.

The duchess yanked off her cap and ran her hand through her untidy mop of silver-gray curls. “Stop creating such a fuss. You’re the Lord Advocate. Make up a law about Frenchmen inhabiting Scottish castles.”

“What damn good would that do?” Connor paced the narrow perimeters of the twisting passageway. “He’ll either take her away in the morning to marry this Count of the Toilette, or I’ll be forced to shoot him. And if she objected, I didn’t hear
it. She’s going to leave me, Morn
a.”

“She loves you, Connor.”

“I know that, but if her brother persuades her to postpone marrying me, I won’t be able to stand it. I need her now. Once he convinces her to visit France, I’ll have to fight to get her back.”

“Family ties are powerful. There’s a chance you’re right
.
”

He gave her a black scowl. “It’s not a chance I care to take.”

“Then just be a man about it and abduct her,” the duchess said practically. “That’s what my husband did when my father was holding out for the crown prince of Hartzburg. Climbed a ladder to my bedroom and had me breeding before my father ever realized I was gone.”

“Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind.”

The duchess gave him an encouraging thump on the back. “Do it, lad. You can use my coach as a getaway. Becky and I will cover you. Ardath can make the arrangements for a ceremony back at the house.”

Connor frowned. “Ardath? Ardath is here?”

“I’ll explain it to you later,” she said quickly. “You take care of rescuing your bride first. Come on. We’ve got to plan this thing properly. I’ll find a way to alert Maggie to expect you.”

T
he duchess was right. Connor had no choice but to marry Maggie immediately and take the matter of her future out of her brother’s hands. Once Connor was a member of the family, Robert would have to accept him.

He realized it would be wise to plan an escape route if he had to abduct Maggie in the dark. Obviously she would have to sleep somewhere in the east wing since the rest of the castle was crumbling and uninhabitable. He’d have to strike tonight unless he wanted to end up chasing her across the Channel and all over France. He wasn’t going to wait for her to be pushed back into Bernard’s welcoming arms.

He knew the castle’s history and that the previous tenants had converted the roundtower chamber into a bedroom before their final defeat. Secluded, it was the perfect place to hide a princess. Connor almost wished he’d thought to keep Maggie the
re himself, away from the world.
While he was glad that her heart’s wish at finding her brother had been realized, he went insane at the thought of her belonging to a man she’d pledged her heart to in childhood. Perhaps Connor couldn’t insert himself in her past, but he was damn well going to dominate her future.

His hunch proved correct. The chamber had been dusted and aired, the stone floor swept of the leaves that blew in the unshuttered window. The heavy bedstead boasted fresh lace-trimmed Belgian linen. A bowl of nuts and imported fruit sat on the nightstand. A virginal white-ivory nightrail lay over a chair.

Daphne dozed by the hearth where a cheerful fire blazed blue and gold flames. She thumped her tail as Connor entered but didn’t bo
ther to rouse herself from her c
ozy spot. The room had been prepared for royalty, for the newly recovered de Saint-Evremond heiress. Connor was an intruder.

His face defiant and determined, he pushed open the narrow door to the stairwell onto the battlements and ran up
the winding steps. Wind stung his eyes as he walked to the edge of the crenellated wall.

He leaned over, contemplating the sobering drop to the wooded ravine below. It would be quite a feat to sneak her down that turret wall without risking life and limb. Not impossible, but perhaps with a decent rope and ladder—
“Sacre-bleu!”
a horrified voice shouted behind him. “Thank the good Lord I am not too late!”

Connor nearly jumped out of his skin as he swung around to see Claude charging toward him like a bull
.
Before he could react, the older man grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, spun him around, and dragged him away from the unshuttered crenellation.

“What are you doing, you cabbage head?” Connor shouted.

“This is not the answer, sir. You must be strong!”

They did a sort of shuffling dance across the walkway, Claude trying to shove Connor behind one of the merlons, Connor struggling to free himself without hurting the older man. The wind battered them unmercifully, heightening the sense of melodrama.

In the end they stumbled across a rusty Jacobite cannon, landing flat on their backs like a pair of breathless tortoises with their arms still locked around each other.

“Do you mind explaining what that was all about?” Connor said as he stared up, stunned, at the sky.

“No woman is worth such a horrible end, sir.” Claude gasped weakly, placing his hand over his heart. “Not even my mistress.”

Daphne bounded across the battlement, leaping over Connor’s chest to cover his face in slobbery kisses. Connor scooped the dog to his chest and sat up in irritation. “How many glasses of champagne did you have, Claude? What in God’s name are you ranting about?”

Claude struggled into an upright position, wringing his hands. “Suicide, sir. Think of those you’d leave behind. Think of my poor mistress.”

“Leave behind?” Maggie called from the depths of the turret doorway. “Did you get lost on your way outside, Connor? Why are you and Claude sitting on a cannon?”

Claude shook his head in sorrow. “His lordship was contemplating suicide over you, my lady. I never realized he
cared so much. Oh, sir. I have misjudged you. It appears you have a passionate heart, after all. I feel terrible.”

Maggie hurried toward Connor, her small body buffeted by the wind, her face white with alarm. “Dear God,
I
never realized he was that sensitive a man, either. Suicide. You beast, Connor. Don’t you care how I would have felt when I had to identify your body?”

“Claude? Marguerite?” Robert had apparently followed his sister up to her room. “Why is everybody gathered out here in this bitter wind? Why is that Scotsman sitting on a cannon?”

Claude rose stiffly to his feet. “Don’t be too hard on him, your grace. He is under extreme emotional duress.” His voice dropped in sympathy. “He was about to”—he made a somersaulting motion with his hands toward the wall— “you know.”

Robert compressed his lips. “No, Claude, I do not know.”

Maggie gestured covertly at the crenellation. “The tower, Robert.” At his blank look, she gave a little hop on the balls
of her feet. “Over the edge…”

“He was doing acrobatics on the battlements?” Robert said in bewilderment “Jumping rope?”

Connor leaned back against the cannon with Daphne in his lap to watch this impromptu game of charades played out. He saw no reason to interrupt. He couldn’t very well admit he was plotting an abduction, anyway. Hell, let them think he was Lady Macbeth.

“He was trying to take his own life?” Robert finally guessed. He regarded Connor with a newfound respect mingled with contempt
.
“Well, I would not have guessed he had it in him. But, alas, Marguerite, this only proves me right. I could never have handed you over to a man who is that emotionally unstable.”

C
h
apter

36

C
on
n
or sat in the moonlit castle garden and listened to Ardath in horrified silence. He felt betrayed, humiliated, enraged. That Sheena would put him
through hell for almost a month.
That
sh
e would defy and deceive him when he had only wanted her happiness. S
he couldn’t have devised a bet
ter way to hurt or publicly embarrass him.

“She’s afraid of you, Connor,” Ardath explained gravely. “She got pregnant and was terrified to tell you. He married her. They’re a family. You really have to accept it.”

Rebecca, standing behind the bench, touched his slumped shoulder. “Poor big brother. You always think you know what’s best for everyone.”

“I do know what’s best.” He lifted his head, his hazel eyes bright with anger. “I’ve seen more of life than all of you stubborn women put together. Who do you think she’ll come crawling to when her criminal husband can’t pay the rent? And you, Rebecca, who will take care of you in your old age? Your helpless animals?”

“I will take care of myself,” she said. “Oh, Connor. Stop worrying about us. Can I not simply be the family’s eccentric
old auntie who watches your children while you and Maggie are on holiday?”

Maggie.

He lifted his head to the roundtower window where she stood, framed in candlelight, imprisoned by the shackles of family obligation. She gave him a forlorn little wave. He didn’t have the heart to wave back. He wanted her back in his arms, and he was going to get her if he had to tear that castle apart stone by stone.

He glanced around as the duchess returned from heaven-knew-where hefting a ladder over her shoulder. “The coast is clear, Connor. What are you waiting for?”

He eyed the rickety ladder she propped up against the garden wall. “What good is this thing supposed to do?” he said indignantly. “That won’t reach halfway to the turret window.”

“That’s why I sneaked up to Maggie’s room and gave her a nice long rope to knot around the bedpost,” Mo
rn
a replied. “She agrees that an abduction is probably the only way to avoid a duel. Good Lord, Connor, where is your initiative?”

“Morn
a, I love Maggie more than life itself but I am not climbing up on that ladder, rope or not.”

The duchess squared her shoulders. “That’s what I was afraid of. Therefore, prepared for every eventuality, I have drawn a map of an alternate abduction route.”

Connor frowned down at the wrinkled parchment she pulled out of her trouser belt and spread beside him on the bench. “What are those little X’s suppose to mean?” he said suspiciously.

“That’s the way from Maggie’s chamber through the unoccupied west wing. It’s a bit of a walk but you’ll manage.”

“And all this scribbling over here? ‘Thread. Salt. Horse liniment.’ Is this some kind of secret code?”

The duchess peered down at the map. “No. It’s the list Frances took to market
.
Just ignore it
.
”

Connor’s frown deepened. “There’s something about this I don’t like. The west wing is falling apart. And the east—”

“For heaven’s sake, Buchanan,” the duchess said. “Don’t be such a twiddlepoop. One can’t have a fairy tale castle at a time like this.”

He sighed, rising to his feet. Thunder growled overhead, which didn’t surprise him. Nothing would surprise him ever again. At least the foul weather was fitting.

A stormy Scottish night was perfect for an abduction.

M
aggie was all packed and waiting to be abducted. There had been more to bring along than she’d anticipated, what with the wedding trousseau and family keepsakes Robert had thoughtfully left in her room.

He had planned everything to the last detail, much as Connor had tried to plan his sisters’ lives. The trouble was, both men meant the best but usually ending up making a mess by interfering.

Even if Sheena stayed happily married to her embezzler husband for life, Connor would never admit he’d been wrong. And Robert would probably hold a grudge for the rest of his days because Maggie had defied tradition for the man she loved.

Connor. She did love him, too, so much she ached with it. She loved him for going to such lengths to prevent a duel with her brother. There was no doubt in her mind that a confrontation between the two men would end up with one of them seriously wounded if not dead. Robert was forcing her to defy him.

She leaned out of the turret window to search for Connor in the darkness. She hoped to goodness he knew what he was doing. He wasn’t the s
ort of person prone to wildly
romantic gestures.

She sighed as she watched him steal through the shadows of the ravine. He looked strong and powerful, a Highlander determined to carry off his bride. This was one Scottish tradition Maggie approved of, although she would have preferred to have her brother’s blessing. Still, it was sweet of Connor to go to all the trouble of rescuing her. She only wished he’d hurry up before Robert realized what was happening. With all the racket Connor was making, someone in the castle was bound to hear him.

Her heart was so full of love and gratitude.

Robert and Jeanette were alive, and Connor didn’t know it yet, but as soon as the murder trial ended, he was taking Maggie to Paris for their honeymoon.

Maggie suspected he would need a rest after winning the case of the century. Perhaps by that time Robert would have softened enough to at least let them stay in the chateau. She was dying for Connor to meet her sister, to admire her ancestral home.

A stone sailed through the window, the prearranged signal that the abduction was about to get under way.

Maggie ran back to the bed to test the rope that the duchess had brought her under the pretense of saying farewell. Then she hurled it out the window, hearing Connor curse as it hit him on the side of his head.

She started to crawl over the ledge, then stopped. “Where is the ladder?” she called down in confusion.

“There’s been a change in plans,” he shouted back. “We’ll have to escape through the west wing garderobe.”

“Into the drains?” Maggie said to herself, pulling her leg back over the ledge. “Whatever you say, Connor. But it doesn’t seem nearly so romantic.”

He appeared at her door nearly three minutes later. Maggie’s breath caught as she turned toward him, her ruggedly handsome Highlander.

It seemed ironic that not long ago she had climbed a rope to rob him, and now he was stealing her, heart, body, and soul.

The Devil’s Advocate abducting a woman.

She knew it would only add to the allure of his reputation.

She could hardly wait to see what other scandals they could brew up together as man and wife.