Highlander Mine (30 page)

“Aye,” he seethed. “It is.”

My indignation at his incessant high-handedness was beginning, once again, to broil. “My sister’s life is at stake, you brute! If she’s even still alive, that is, after a whole month of my desertion! I
have
to go alone. And I
will
go alone. ’Tis the only way.”

“Feisty, isn’t she?” Tavio commented blithely.

“You have no idea,” Knox replied.

“The lass is right, though,” said Lachlan, the voice of reason. “’Tis what must happen. ’Tis essential he feels he has complete power, until the sister walks free. Then we can make our move.”

“Too bloody dangerous.” Knox was going to be difficult about this point. I’d known to expect that. He would exercise his power, for now, but in his voice I could hear the inflection of his realization. It
was
the best way. The only way.

Lachlan humored his commander as only a first officer and valuable friend might do. “We’ll consider all other options first, of course. But say Amelia does make her presence known to him, at first, without us. He’s not expecting her to arrive with a battalion in tow. It gives us the advantage of surprise. Amelia bargains with Fawkes, secures her sister’s release, then relays a signal to us, at which time we storm the building.”

“Too dangerous,” Knox gruffed.

“We’d need a signal from you, Amelia,” Lachlan continued lightly. “One that’s sound. Completely watertight. Tavio, what have you got?”

Tavio surveyed his belt of contraptions. He fingered several before selecting a small tube-shaped piece of silver metal. This he unclasped from the belt and held up. It rattled as he moved it. At its end was a small hole below a narrowed mouthpiece. We watched as he raised the instrument to his mouth and blew into it. A high-pitched and very loud whistle pierced earsplittingly through the air, causing the men in the other distant circles to pause and look. “It can be heard across vast distances,” he said. “And from within buildings.”

“There’s our signal,” said Lachlan, looking at Knox.

Knox was silent. He was never going to like any plan that didn’t involve him being chained to me with his manacles. But he had to grudgingly admit that it was the only plan that was likely to get us the results we were after, even if I was momentarily—as I would very likely be—alone with Sebastian Fawkes.

After several seconds, Knox said to Tavio, “Are you absolutely
certain
it can be heard from within closed buildings?”

“Aye,” Tavio replied. “I tested it myself, in the barracks from fifty paces.”

“What about upper floors or underground?” Knox questioned gruffly. “What about brick or stone as opposed to wood?”

“The barracks are constructed of stone, Knox,” Tavio gently replied. “Well sealed. I was all the way up at the manor when I had Murtaugh blow it.
Behind
the manor, in fact. ’Tis a clear, far-traveling sound. It’ll do the job without trouble.”

“The gaming club is made of wood,” I offered. “And the windows are open during the days, in summer. I think it’ll be easily heard. I think this plan is a good one.”

Tavio handed the whistle to me. I hung it around my neck, along with the small key to Knox’s cuffs that still had not been removed by him. I looked at Knox and he was glaring at me.

I curled my fingers between his and held his hand with both my own. “You’d do it for your sisters, or your brothers,” I whispered. “And you must let me do it for mine.”

In his eyes I could read his anxiety, his sanction and most of all his love.

Our plan was in place.

* * *

T
HE
HORSES
WERE
tied in a grassy, wooded area just out of town, and we made the last part of the journey on foot. Twenty-five Highlands warriors might get noticed, even when dispersed, and news of their presence would filter throughout the area over time. But the same number on horseback would be a trumpeted announcement throughout the city.

It was strange to walk through oily, gray streets of my city once again. The avenues and alleys felt unusually closed in. For the first time in my life, I had a sense of unease in the shadows of buildings. Already I craved the green of the trees. I’d never noticed before how dirty these alleys were, how heavily scented the air, with smoke, muck and desperation.

Knox drew me to him as we neared the club, just before we rounded the corner to its main entrance. He held me in his strong arms and he kissed me. “Amelia,” he whispered.

“Aye.”

“You’re all right, lass.” An echo to an earlier time and place. “I’m here with you and if I don’t hear your signal soon, we come in after you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Don’t let anything happen to Hamish, either, I beg you. Have your men restrain him if need be. Whatever it takes.”

“Aye, milady,” he said. It wasn’t difficult to detect his anguish, and his fear.

“I love you, Laird Mackenzie.” I kissed him, but I didn’t linger. It was time to find my sister. I could feel her memory now more than ever in these ancient, familiar streets. Even more so, I could feel her presence.

Letting my fingers slip through his, I walked around the corner and into the club.

After the splendor I’d become accustomed to, the blue velvet drapery and well-worn green felt of the gaming tables seemed overbright and gaudy. There was none of the subdued, tasteful wealth of the Kinloch manor.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised to find him there, waiting for me.

He was seated at one of the gaming tables, surrounded by a dozen men, who were well into both their game and their cups. There was a messiness to the scene that was pronounced. I’d known Sebastian Fawkes to be an intensely controlled, disciplined man. He looked different now. As though his control had frayed around the edges. His appearance was less meticulous than I remembered it, his posture looser. His hair still gleamed in the dull light, but it was longer than he’d formerly worn it, unusually disheveled. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand and his cards in the other. As soon as he saw me, he rose, and his glass tipped, spilling the contents over the pile of coins. “Amelia,” he murmured.

Menace radiated from him in visceral waves.

It was a scene out of my nightmares, come to life. In my nightmares however, a very determined laird and his substantial troop of brawny warriors, all of whom were ready and waiting for my whistled signal, hadn’t featured.

“You received my message?” he drawled. This looseness in him was disturbing.

“Aye. I knew you to be a tyrant, Fawkes, but to have James
killed?
You’ll go to your death for this.”

“I didn’t kill James,” he said. “James was caught at the border with his cargo. He fought the authorities and was hanged. His bad judgment caught up with him.”

“You sent him.”

“He was employed as a runner. He knew the risks and he chose to take them. He should have accepted prison, but he foolishly shot one of the British officers while attempting to escape. He died quickly, so I hear.” Fawkes righted his glass and poured himself another drink. As he sipped, his eyes roved every inch of me. He smiled. “You look exceedingly well. Exile agrees with you, lass. You’ve never looked lovelier.”

“Where’s Cecelia? I want to see her.”

He contemplated me with near-manic attachment. It seemed unlikely that my escape could have caused his apparent unraveling. Yet I suspected it had. My disregard and my refusals had wounded him in a way that seemed almost uncharacteristic of such a shady, unscrupulous man. I couldn’t have known it for certain, but the looseness in him hinted at larger issues—maybe his clout had taken some other blow. This new shadow of volatility in him was even more frightening to me than his steely intimidation.

I feared his obsession, not only for myself, but for my sister. “Where is she?” I said. “Take me to her.”

“Just as self-assured as always, I see.” Fawkes smiled. “In that you have not changed, my dear Amelia.” He paused, his eyes taking in every detail of my outfit, my windblown and healthful appearance. “You
have
changed, though. Where have you been hiding? With the heathens, I hear. Some Highlands backwater.”

Aye. The most civilized place I’d ever been. “Tell me where she is.”

“In a safe place.”

I stepped closer to him, and his breathing caught. This gave me a degree of satisfaction, that I could affect him this way, that I could rattle him in any way whatsoever. “Where is she? Is she here? Take me to her.”

His dark eyes were unsettling. A mad desire lurked there that cooled my confidence. “Seize her,” he said. Several of his men jumped up, flanking me.

“Call off your thugs,” I said, with an undue sense of calm. “I’ve come to you willingly. I will agree to your terms. All of them. On one condition.”

“What condition?”

“She walks free. Immediately. Is she here in the club?”

He glanced at one of his men, then at the door, as though unsure whether to reveal the truth to me. “Aye,” he finally said.

“Let her go.”

“And in return?”

“I will give you whatever you ask.”

“
Whatever
I ask?”

“Anything,”
I emphasized, to which his eyes took on a glazed, hungry shine. “But you must take me to her now, and allow her to walk away at once. Never to be followed or approached or bullied ever again.”

“I can agree to that, if you’re exceedingly true to your word.” He sipped again, draining his drink. “How true to your word do you intend to be?”

“I’ve already told you—anything. Your wish is my command.”

He did not hesitate further. “Follow me.” To his men, he said, “Allow Cecelia to take her leave when she appears. I am not to be interrupted. No matter what you hear.”

This sounded distinctly ominous, and my heart leaped into a panicked beat.
Courage,
I thought,
please don’t fail me now.
Tavio, I hope your whistling contraption works. Hamish, be careful. Knox, I love you. Please come for me.

I followed Fawkes up the staircase, to one of the many upper rooms that were used for night guests. It vexed me that there were so many doors. So many places to search.

Fawkes walked to the very end of the corridor. “You took longer than we expected,” he said to me, as though preparing me. “She refuses to eat.”

He used a key to unlock the door. And there, curled up on the bed, was my sister. She opened her eyes and sat up when she heard us enter the room.

I hardly recognized her. She was heartbreakingly thin, her eyes like huge blue orbs in her pale, wan face. She was a shadow of the young woman who had once laughed easily and calmed all my fears. Here in her shadowed, sorrowful eyes were the ravages of all the sacrifices she’d made on my behalf. “Amelia,” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. I walked to her and embraced her gently, afraid I might break her. “Where is he?” she sobbed. “Where is my son?” she sobbed.

“He’s safe and well.”
God willing.
“And so are you. I’ve come for you. No one can harm you now.”

Her eyes searched mine imploringly.
How can you say that?
her expression conveyed. “You should not have come back,” she said to me.

“What do you mean? You knew I would. As soon as I knew Hamish was safe, I came.” At the mention of his name, fresh tears pooled in her eyes. I wanted to say more, to assure her that her son was not only safe but thriving—and
here
—but that was more than I could wisely reveal.

“James is dead, Amelia,” she said. “He’s gone.”

“I know, Cecelia, I know.” I held her close, comforting my thin, weeping sister as best I could. I had never wished my brother-in-law ill, not once. But secretly I wondered—nay, I
knew
—that my sister would be better off without him. His misfortune, in the end, had been beyond my control. I mourned his loss, but I did not feel guilt or regret as I looked forward to a new beginning. For all of us.

“Cecelia,” I said, as steadily as I could. “I want you to walk down the stairs and out-of-doors. Can you manage it?” She nodded, but she looked so frail I feared she might not make it. “Trust me. Go now. Quickly.”

“Nay, Amelia. I can’t leave you.”

Fawkes was growing impatient. “Do as your sister tells you, Cecelia. Take your leave while you have the opportunity. Or I’ll get one of my guards to assist you.”

I led Cecelia to the door. I hugged her close and whispered in her ear, “Trust me. I’m all right. Everything’s all right. Please trust me. Please hurry.” Then I added, even more quietly, because I knew she would listen to
this
reassurance: “Hamish is out-of-doors waiting for you. He wants to see you. Go to him now.”

Fawkes closed the door behind her, locking it with his key, which he slipped into his pocket. “Now,” he said. “’Tis time for you to fulfill your
end of the bargain.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I
WAS
HESITANT
to blow the whistle until I was absolutely certain my sister was safely clear of the premises. She was frail and ill; she needed time. I could hear unusual clomping sounds from the roof and through the exterior walls, as though Knox’s army not only had surrounded the building but was literally climbing its walls. I pictured Knox’s sunlit silhouette as Fawkes drew closer to me, as though to somehow shield myself.
Hurry, Cecelia.
His ink-black hair. His tanned, rakish pirate’s face. His lips.

Fawkes twirled a curl of my hair with his fingers, holding it to his lips. “I’ll get you to tease me next time,” he said softly, leaning close. “I’m keeping you all to myself. Locked away until you learn to obey and submit. I knew you’d come back to me. I knew you wanted me. Just like this.” His feverish murmuring was revolting me more than it was frightening me. He was a delusional madman. I was disgusted, and infuriated. My family’s hardships had begun long before this man had entered our lives, but he’d somehow managed to compound every injustice a thousandfold. The one concession I could grant him was that his actions forced me away from this hellhole and into the arms of Knox Mackenzie. Arms I wanted to be held in
now.
Not here, by this violent, greedy reprobate. And his hands were sliding across my dress, to my breasts. He was becoming more insistent, his whispers more excited. “Just now, however, I’m not inclined to wait even a minute longer. My apologies, lass, but this will hurt just a little. Be as loud as you like. Scream all you want.”

Fawkes pushed me back on the bed and laid himself over me. He thrust his knee between my thighs, groping to raise my skirts. With his other hand, he began to hastily unbutton the top of my gown. I made a sound when his thumb reached beneath my torn bodice to lightly skim my nipple. Distracted, he misinterpreted my distress.

“Aye,” he murmured, squeezing my breast. “Moan for me, lass.”

“I can do better than that,” I said, reaching for the whistle and filling my lungs to give it the heartiest blow I had in me. The shrill signal filled the air with piercing, beautiful volume.

The response was almost instantaneous. Thumping, crashing noises erupted from outside the window and below the stairs. Fawkes froze, but his grip tightened and he slapped me across the face in a sudden realization. “What’s this?” He ripped the whistle from around my neck.
Take it,
I thought.
It has served its purpose. But leave my key.
He paused to listen to the substantial commotion, which was only gaining momentum. “What
is
that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said. “You’re about to be invaded by an army.”

It all happened very quickly from there. A soldier smashed through the door, followed closely by a swarm of armed Mackenzies. “Here! She’s here!” one of them bellowed. Lachlan ran into the room as Fawkes, stunned, finally began to react. Instead of drawing away, Fawkes pulled me closer, as though reading his own fate and scrambling to make the most of his last few seconds on earth. Lachlan pulled Fawkes off me at the same moment Knox burst through the door, his immense sword raised.

Damn,
but the man was magnificence itself. His wrath only embellished his size and his strength. I could have sat motionless and rapt, just watching all that.

But I noticed Fawkes reaching for something, behind his back. A pistol had been tucked into an unnoticed holster at his hip. One that was now raised. And aimed.

At the doorway.

At the utterly determined small boy who struggled against Tavio’s hold, wriggling, breaking free and running toward me. “Ami!” Hamish yelled, his new sword raised out in front of him, shining and eerily bright.

Time seemed to slow. Many things happened at once. I could see every one of them simultaneously and individually as though my senses were chronicling light and space with new superacuity. I screamed. Knox lunged for Hamish to block the bullet as Lachlan grabbed a handful of Hamish’s tunic, pulling him back. At the same time, in an instinctive rush, I grabbed the barrel of the gun and tipped it upward, just as Fawkes pulled the trigger. The jolt of it jarred me, burning my hands. The noise was deafening.

My heart stopped.

The bullet struck. And a bell-toned note rang through the air. The bullet ricocheted off Hamish’s sword, hitting the wooden floor with a small, rolling clack.

Knox pushed Hamish into Lachlan’s arms and Lachlan held Hamish in a very secure grip, searching for injuries. Seeing that none were found, Knox turned and, without hesitation or ceremony, drove his sword into Sebastian Fawkes’s chest, spearing him with the gargantuan steel weapon until it emerged from Fawkes’s back, crimson and gruesome.

“You lived as a man without honor and now you die as one,” Knox said, withdrawing the bloodstained weapon as Fawkes slumped wordlessly to the floor.

Knox fitted the weapon back into its sheath and stepped over Fawkes’s lifeless form.

To Hamish he said, “You’ve enough courage for ten men, lad. Next we work on following orders.”

Knox Mackenzie, laird of lairds, then gently scooped me into his arms. “Let’s go home.”

Fawkes’s men were no match, especially surprised and drunken as they were, for the Mackenzie warriors. The few who fought were cut down. Most did not.

Knox carried me out-of-doors, back into the light. His men followed him.

He set me on my feet and wrapped his burly arm around my waist, pulling me against his big body. His voice lowered to a sultry growl, but his eyes were bright, and sure. “Amelia Isobel Abbott Taylor Mackenzie, you are milk and honey and innocence and lust. You’re a sunny day and a moonlit night. I love you. And I now intend to make an honest woman of you once and for all.”

And with that, the king of my kingdom kissed me. The kiss was fiery and passionate. Practically indecent, really. Downright
lewd,
in fact.