Return to Clan Sinclair (8 page)

 

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

“W
hat did he mean by that?”

Dennis entered the room fully, coming to stand only a foot from Macrath.

“What did he mean, save her?”

“Someone's kidnapped Ceana,” he said.

He explained the situation, the look of rage deepening on the faces of his Irish brothers-­in-­law. Good, they wouldn't have any hesitation in punishing Paul Henderson, law or no law.

For the first time since he'd learned Ceana had been taken, his mood lightened.

He was torn between wishing to accompany them and protecting his own family. As he turned to look at Virginia, the choice was taken from him. She stood with her arms around Ceana's daughters, her eyes watery and her cheeks still bathed with tears. The sight of her, frightened, brought back too many memories, including the time when her life had been in the balance.

He went to her, wrapping his arms around her, all three of the children caught up in their embrace.

“Don't worry, my love, they'll find her. She'll be fine.”

She sighed but didn't answer, and he prayed he hadn't lied.

B
ruce was in the stables, readying his carriage, when the three Irish brothers entered.

“We're going with you,” Dennis said.

“I'm not going to refuse an offer of help, but there are going to be some rules first.”

“And why would that be? You rescue women a lot, do you?”

“I own a detective agency in America,” he said. “I work with law enforcement there. I was the one who followed Henderson to Scotland. If you can't agree, then go away.”

Dennis finally nodded. After a moment his brothers nodded as well.

Ardan and Breandan helped the driver with harnessing the horses as Dennis stood around looking ducal.

“You're an American,” the man said as Bruce came around to the door and opened it.

“I am,” he said, entering the carriage.

“You're from Boston, I'm told.” The duke entered and sat beside him. A moment later the other two brothers got into the carriage.

“Nearby.”

“Would you be by way of knowing our kin? We've cousins in Boston.”

“Boston is a big city, Duke. I've never met a Mead before.”

“Well, now, you might be looking one up, then.”

“I might. Or not.” He studied the man. “What I say is the law,” he said. “I've a lot more experience in this than you do.”

“Where would you be thinking of going, then?”

“The road to Edinburgh,” he said.

“A carriage passed us on the way to Drumvagen. In a hurry. Would you care for me to tell you where it went? Or are you all for being the hero yourself?”

He was teetering on the edge of disliking the Duke of Lester, but he nodded.

C
eana couldn't decide if she was angry or sad. How dare her brothers-­in-­law resort to such tactics to get her to return to Ireland. Had they no sense at all? From this moment on her relationship with them would be forever changed. She would never again look at them with fond exasperation. No, they would be fortunate if she even talked to them after today.

She stared out the window, wondering where the carriage was taking her. To Kinloch Village, she hoped. ­People loved Macrath in the village, she'd been told. All she had to do was cry out and tell them who she was. Hopefully, someone would intervene.

She focused her gaze on the ceiling of the carriage. It was quite a lovely vehicle, upholstered in pale blue silk. Evidently, her Irish relatives had spared no expense in this abduction.

Would Bruce come after her?

She had wanted her life to change, but she hadn't envisioned kidnapping being a part of it.

When the carriage began to travel up an incline, she wondered if they were nearing their destination.

Please, God, let someone come after me.

She really didn't want to be hauled back to Ireland this way, especially without being able to say good-­bye.

B
ruce didn't look at the other men in the carriage, ignored their muted conversation, his mind on the task at hand.

Rage filled him, and it had been a very long time since he'd allowed himself to become this angry. This wasn't war; it was worse. War at least had some rules to it. This was one man's obsession, nothing more.

He would always remember the look of fear in Virginia's eyes. Was Ceana feeling the same?

He knew how to catch a thief, how to apprehend a criminal. But how did he handle someone who was insane? How did he reason with someone whose obsession had stretched over a decade and multiple countries?

Let him be there in time.

He felt raw and unprepared. He pushed the emotion away, determined to be a professional. He couldn't afford to let anything deflect him from finding Ceana.

If something happened to her, how would he bear it? How could he look at her daughters and tell them their mother was gone?

He couldn't.

The words would not be said. Even if it took his life in exchange, he would return her to her family alive and unhurt.

“Tell your driver to slow down,” the duke said. He stuck his head out of the window, then said something in an indecipherable language to Ardan. A moment later it was Ardan's turn to stick his head outside.

He nodded to Dennis.

“It's where he nearly hit us, where the two roads come together. I say we go up the hill to the house. It's the first one around for miles.”

He hadn't thought of Henderson going to ground. He'd thought the man would try to escape from Scotland just as he had last time. But Henderson might have learned from his mistakes, as most lucky men did.

“The man's a fool if he thinks not to be discovered,” the duke said.

“Maybe not as much of a fool as we think,” Bruce said. “The place could be well staffed.”

“So it's a siege you're thinking of?” the duke asked.

He didn't answer, spoke through the grill to this driver. “Pull off here,” he said, then directed his comments to the duke. “I don't think it would be altogether wise to go in announcing our position, unless you have some rifles with you.”

“Nary a one, Preston,” the duke said. “We thought we were rescuing Ceana from her brother, not from a kidnapper.”

“Why the hell did you think you had to rescue her?”

The duke frowned at him, making him appear almost eaglelike. In a few years he would be Brianag's male counterpart.

“She's our brother's widow, Preston.”

“Is she not allowed out of your sight?”

“She'd been gone long enough.”

The remark pushed his temper up a notch. Now was not the time to challenge the other man, however. He'd save his anger for Henderson.

They left the carriage halfway down the hill. Bruce spoke to the driver and gave him instructions to turn the vehicle around while he waited. There was every possibility they might have to make a hasty retreat.

He knew the house from his initial inspection of the countryside when first arriving at Drumvagen. When he'd first seen it, however, the structure had been empty. Two stories tall, the house was made of red brick, with a steep pitched roof, white-­painted window frames, and a carved front door at the end of a gravel walk.

He hesitated at the edge of the clearing and motioned for the other men to gather around.

“You sure you're not a Scot, Preston?” the duke said after hearing his plans. “I've heard the Scots are sneaky.”

“Have you now?” he said in a credible imitation of Macrath's brogue. “I've heard much the same about the Irish. But don't you worry about how sneaky I can be. You just make sure you and your brothers are at the back of the house.”

“Ardan and Breandan will be there,” the duke said, grinning. “But I'll be right beside you. Ceana needs to see a friendly face when she's rescued, not an ugly one.”

He only nodded, but when this was over, he and the duke might be going a few rounds.

 

C
HAPTER
F
OU
RTEEN

C
eana didn't know who was more surprised when a strange man opened the carriage door and stared at her.

“You aren't one of my brothers-­in-­law,” she said. “Are you even from Ireland?”

He didn't answer her, only turned to her abductor, standing there hat in hand.

“You stupid bastard,” he said calmly. “This isn't Virginia.”

In the next moment she realized who he was.

To her surprise, Paul Henderson wasn't unattractive. In fact, he was quite distinguished-­looking, with silver hair and a youthful face. His brown eyes held an emotion she couldn't discern. Perhaps it was impatience. Or even casual cruelty, like a man who could run down a dog in the street and not even bother to look back.

When he smiled at her, Ceana felt fear like a kitten's claws traveling up her spine.

“Who are you, madam?”

“My name is Ceana. I'm Macrath Sinclair's sister.”

He blinked at her slowly like a lizard. Thanks to Darina, there were a few in their menagerie at home. All of them looked friendlier than Henderson.

She unpinned her locket and showed him the pictures.

“These are my daughters, Darina and Nessa. They're in Ireland right now, at Iverclaire, where I live. Darina is almost ten and Nessa is seven. I would very much like it if you would release me so I can go home to them.”

He didn't say a word. Instead, he flicked a hand at the giant, turned and led the way to the back of the manor house.

She sent a glance toward her abductor, to find him staring at her. A glint of something was in his eyes. Intelligence or compassion? Either way, it was too late for that.

The giant grabbed her elbow and escorted her inside the house.

The kitchen was cavernous and empty, smelling of onions. If Henderson had a cook, she wasn't in evidence. Nor was a maid, from the state of things as they followed him. Dust covered the table in the hall, and the windowpanes were streaked from the last rain.

Henderson escorted her to a sitting room he'd evidently prepared with Virginia in mind. She'd never seen so many roses, all stuffed into vases of every size and description.

She loved roses but the scent of all of them, red, pale pink, yellow, was nearly taking her breath. Her sister-­in-­law loved roses, but this was a bit excessive.

He turned and walked across the room, rudely sitting in a wing chair before motioning her to the settee.

“Where is Virginia?” he asked.

“At Drumvagen,” she said.

He didn't say anything for a moment. “I remember you,” he said. “You used to visit her in London.”

She didn't recall him, but she inclined her head in recognition of the past.

He flicked his hand in the air and the giant vanished with what she thought must be a sigh of relief. Evidently, he wasn't going to be punished for his mistake, or at least not in front of her.

“I would really like to go home now,” she said.

“Would you?”

She nodded. The kitten's claws were digging in.

“I think I'll trade you,” he said. “You for Virginia. Would she come, do you think? If she knew it was your life?”

She had been right to ascribe cruelty to the look in his eyes.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “But my brother would not allow her to.”

“So he would rather let you die than surrender his wife?”

“I doubt I would say it as baldly, but yes. He loves her a great deal.”

She shouldn't have said that. His face darkened, the easy smile disappeared.

“Don't lecture me on love. I know more about love than you can imagine. I would have given her everything. I can protect her and keep her in a style greater than she's ever known.”

“I don't think Virginia cares about wealth,” she said. “Granted, it's easier to live when every need you have is answered. But I think she would live with Macrath in a crofter's hut and feel herself blessed.”

“Let's hope you're wrong,” he said.

“She won't come,” she said.

“You should pray she does. Otherwise, I have no use for you.”

Didn't he realize how angry Macrath was going to be? Not to mention Bruce. She wasn't wrong, was she? Both of them were going to come after her, weren't they?

How foolish she was being. She must remain calm. Becoming hysterical would not get her out of the situation.

She smiled at Henderson.

“I can see why you would be in love with Virginia. She's a wonderful person and I've been happy to call her my sister-­in-­law all these years.”

He didn't respond, only looked at her with his piercing eyes. She glanced away, noting the other furniture in the sitting room: a secretary, two comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace with a table between them.

Had he rented the house fully furnished? Had he purchased it? Just how long had he planned to kidnap Virginia? Didn't he know Macrath would not tolerate the loss of his wife?

“Would you like some tea?”

She looked at him, surprised. Did he think this was a social call?

“I'd really like to go home,” she said.

“Tea?”

He smiled again, an expression not the least bit convivial or amused.

“I should like some very much,” she said. If he was insisting on being a polite abductor, who was she to spare him the pleasure?

“And perhaps a few refreshments,” he said.

Had he heard her rumbling stomach? Fear or no fear, she was hungry.

She nodded, pasting on an Irish smile. She'd had plenty of opportunities to appear malleable when faced with her brothers-­in-­law's intransigence.

Better men than Paul Henderson had tried to manipulate her, and they'd failed.

“Thank you,” she said. “That would be nice.”

He left her alone in the sitting room, closing the door behind him. She heard the unmistakable click of a key in the latch as he locked her in.

Once she was certain he was really gone, she stood and walked to the window. The house was perched on a hill, surrounded by mature trees. Through the branches she could see a view of a glen and the blue haze of mountains in the distance.

She was less than an hour's drive from Drumvagen but it might as well be a continent away.

She'd never seen this house before, but then, she wasn't familiar with the area. She should've come home earlier. She should've brought the girls and visited Macrath and Virginia. Just add that regret to a long list of things she should have done.

Nails had been hammered into the outside of the window frame. Even if she could break the glass, she wouldn't be able to raise the sash. At the moment, however, going through the window looked like her only alternative.

She grabbed the poker from the fireplace tools on the hearth and stuck it under the settee.

Another door sat at the far end of the room. She slowly turned the latch, but it, too, was locked.

A few minutes later she heard a sound outside the door. She raced to the settee and composed herself, calmly staring out the window when the door opened.

Henderson entered the room, followed by the giant now carrying a tray. She wondered if he was assigned to clean the rooms when he wasn't kidnapping women.

He pointed to the table and the other man placed the tray on it. She noted the two bramble berry tarts, her stomach rumbling in anticipation. To her great relief, Henderson evidently had no plans on joining her for tea. After the men were gone and the door locked again, she retrieved one of the tarts.

She was on her second cup of tea when it occurred to her that she should have been wiser. She placed the teacup and saucer back on the tray, staring at the remaining tart accusingly.

Had he poisoned her? Was she going to die because she'd been stupid enough to eat a bramble berry tart? Would she never see her daughters again?

Regret filled her as the room tilted ominously. She grabbed one of the pillows from the settee and lay down before she fell.