The McKinnon (32 page)

“Then let me put it another way,
your Grace
. If you do not come with me then I'll kill you and your child. How is that for persuasion?”

You bastard, she silently screamed, yet she never changed her expression. He wasn't going to touch her baby.

“I must, at least, change into riding clothes.” Morgan was hoping to get out of his sight for just a few moments to write Cullen a note.

“No, there is no time. Just get your cloak. If you tell the guards where we are going, your child and husband will die. You will tell the guards we are going for a ride and will be back shortly. Tell them you do not need an escort.”

“Very well. As you can see, I will not be able to ride very fast.”

“Frankly, this is a surprise and complication I was not prepared for." With her and Cullen tearing off to Ireland, he had tossed the possibility of her being pregnant aside. "Nevertheless, I don’t care about your safety or the safety of the bastard you carry. I have no instruction as to what condition Brentwood wants you in upon your return. Dead or alive, it makes no difference to me. Don’t for a minute think to try to gain sympathy from this quarter by appealing to my more tender side."

"Why would I? It is obvious to me that you don’t have one."

"Come on, we are wasting daylight.” Stewart’s hand was an iron vise around her elbow as he dragged her to the front door.

“You better make it look good, Morgan. I have the knife to your side." He pressed the blade against her skin. "Feel that?”

“You have made your point,” Morgan said, angry at the long reach of her uncle. He had managed to get his hands on Nic and her, too. She jerked her elbow out of Stewart's grip and proceeded to walk out the front door and into the stables.

Taking a deep breath, she plastered on a smile that she certainly did not feel. Just her luck the only living soul around besides the horses was a young boy.

There would be no help there, she thought.

She would make the best of it. Perhaps, there was a way to use this young man after all.

“Archie, this is a gentleman from back home, an old family friend. I have been so lonely for news of Seabridge, and am so grateful to have him here. He will be our guest for about a week’s time, so please go into the house and tell Mrs. Beasley we will be having a guest for dinner for the next week. First, will you be a sweet boy and saddle Salt for me? It is such a beautiful day and I would like to show him the grounds.”

“Yes, Lady Morgan, but are you sure it is safe for you to ride so close to your time?” Archie said then readied her horse.

“Thank you for your concern, Archie, but I'll be just fine. Here is a token for your efforts. Now, run back inside and find Mrs. Beasley. Give her the message. She will be upset with me if I bring a guest without her having fair warning to prepare. She would be angry enough to throw us both into the cellars.” Morgan pushed the cross into the boys hand and shoved him out of the stable doors. “Now, go quickly.”

Morgan watched as her only hope skipped off.

“Oh, I must say, you are
very
good, Duchess.” Stewart’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I was almost convinced myself of just how happy you are to see me, even knowing you would as soon place daggers into my heart as look at me. We haven’t passed the gates. Keep in mind you have way more to lose than I do.”

“I am fully aware of what I stand to lose here, Sir,” Morgan said looking at her kidnapper squarely. Her heart was racing as they approached the gate.

“Simon, I’m taking a ride this afternoon. We will be going over by the sheep pastures should anyone need us.”

She flashed him a warm smile. Her reward was the gate swinging wide.

“Enjoy your ride, Mistress. Good day to you, sir.”

“Good day, Simon. I'll take good care of your lady for you.”

“Yes, Sir.” Simon waved as they passed under the gates.

As they swung around to the south, Morgan was hoping Cullen would return in time to catch up with them. She hoped the clues would be enough to tell him where she was heading. It was a long shot, but all she had to work with.

Stewart was pushing them to a quickened pace. She was praying to God with each passing minute to keep her child’s life safe. If they kept this pace, she feared her baby would not survive. However, there was no other choice.

She just hoped her excellent physical conditioning would balance the trauma her baby was currently enduring. Perhaps, he was accustom to stress and would  be able to endure after all. If God meant for this child to live then he would live. If not then she would have to work through the loss.

Morgan turned her thoughts to Nic, as she transferred her child’s well-being over to a higher power.

She was not fooling herself. She was in a terrible mess. It would take a full week to reach Seabridge as far north as they were. The weather was cold, and she was sure her captor was not staying at any roadside inn to give a trail to follow.

She prayed for guidance and deliverance, but she also believed God helps those who help themselves. He would give her strength when she needed it most. She had faith. It was then she allowed her old defenses to resurface.

She removed herself, retreating within.

Nic could hardly believe his eyes. He was home after nine years. He realized how much he had missed it. He and Reagan had made port to the south more than a week ago. They had not been pushing the mount as hard as Nic wanted, but he knew it was better to go easy on the animal as she was carrying extra weight.

However, being so close, they had ridden most of the night to get here. Other than the two lone riders they had passed at a distance, they had passed no one along the way. They crested the hill just as the sun was rising.

As they began to get closer, Nic could since there was something terribly wrong. The peace was giving way to pandemonium, instantly sending adrenalin rushing through his veins. He dismounted and made his way to the main house, stopping a young boy along the way.

“Son, what is the trouble here?”

To Nic it looked as if he might have come home just in time to help.

“It is the Lady, Sir. She asked me to open the gates for her yesterday for a ride. She said he was a family friend. Neither one returned last night. Now, I’m afraid for her baby. She does not make fun of me and has been nice to me. I love her like a Mum, I do.” The boy began to cry. “I should have gone with her. I could have protected her.”

“Slow down, Son. Who is in charge? Take me to him so I can help in the search for your lost lady,” Nic said assuming it was the child’s mother.

“Sir, Cullen has been home for a few days, but he is gone, too. Sir Giles is in charge. There he is. Sir Giles! Sir Giles!” The boy was shouting as he ran to get Sir Giles for the stranger.

“Oh, God, no.” Nic was beginning to see as the pieces fell together. He feared the worst. “If Cullen is here then my guess would be Morgan is as well.”

Sir Giles was approaching the two with his hands outstretched. “Praise be to the All Mighty God. Oh, Nic, we were all so afraid you had not survived Ireland. After Cullen and Lady Morgan returned with no news of you, we feared the worst. Now, you are here and we must take it as a sign from God.”

“Morgan, my wife, where is she?” Nic demanded as he felt the adrenaline surge.

“The Lady went for a ride yesterday and has not returned. As you see we are gathering a search party.”

Nic felt the blood draining out of his face and knew he was going to need to sit down before he passed out. The trip had drained him and he was still battling infection from his wounds.

Reagan took the lead, guiding Nic over to a low wall where he could lean for support. “Nic, come and sit before you pass out.” Reagan turned to Sir Giles. “He was beaten severely before he escaped from the prison where they held him. He is still recovering. This news is not good.”

“My Lord, I am sorry you have a homecoming like this, but we must find her. You have been gone and had no way of knowing Lady Morgan is heavy with a child. I fear for her and the babe.”

“I, do, too,” Reagan said.

The fear for Morgan and the unborn child’s safety churned in Nic’s stomach. He turned his attention back to Giles. “Giles, who saddled Morgan’s horse for her yesterday? Send them to me at once. I need to see my father, as well. I will be inside. As soon as I have talked to Father and to the stable boy, we will begin to search.”

Sir Giles placed a sympathetic hand on Nic’s arm then turned his head to the house. “Nic, do not expect much from your father. He has declined drastically since Brandon’s death.”

“Thank you for the forewarning.” Turning, Nic drew Reagan after him into the house. He found his father sitting by the fire, much as he remembered him. It was only as he got closer did he see how frail his father had become.

Kneeling beside his father’s chair, Nic placed a shaking hand on his father’s thin arm. “Father? I have come home.”

He turned to face Nic. His father's eyes showed no recognition.

“Do I know you young man? Have you come with my son? I am looking for him to come home soon, you know. Perhaps you know Nic?” he asked as he turned back to the fire.

It broke Reagan’s heart to see the condition of Nic’s father. She had seen it before, knowing the memory loss was untreatable. In the future there would be a cure but not for many centuries.

Nic was beyond words and he hung his head in guilt.

“I should have come sooner, Reagan. I should have been here.”

Nic felt Reagan’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her.

“Nic, don't beat yourself up over this. There is nothing you could have done. I have seen this before, and it is just part of aging that hits harder and faster in some than others. Come, my friend. Let us find the groom to see what he has to say. This is one thing we can do something about.”

“Good day to you, Father,” Nic said.

Back outside, Nic and Reagan met Sir Giles and Archie.

“I’m so sorry, my Lord.” The youth was in anguish, and Nic could see that plainly. “I had no idea she was in any kind of trouble. I swear to you, Sir. I would never have left her if I had thought she was in danger.”

Nic calmly placed a hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “Do not place the blame on yourself, Son. Just tell me everything you can remember in as much detail as possible,” Nic said in a calm voice that was a contrast to his churning insides. Morgan was lost, and he felt deep in his soul she was in danger.

“Let me think,” Archie said, taking on a very serious look. “She asked me very cheerfully to saddle Salt for her. She was taking her old family friend out for a tour of the grounds.”

Nic raised an eyebrow at the mention of an old family friend. “And what exactly did this friend look like Archie? Do you recall anything about him?” 

“Well, he was old, but not as old as Sir Giles.” The boy said drawing his brows together in thought. “He had blond hair and green eyes. He was holding something in his left hand that may have been a small dagger he was palming. Lady Morgan said it was going to be wonderful having him as a guest for the next week, and for me to go inside and tell Mrs. Beasley. Lady Morgan said if I did not tell Mrs. Beasley she would probably be angry enough to toss us both into the cellar. Then she pressed this into my hand saying it was a token and shoved me out the stable door before I could say anything else.”

Nic looked down into the boy's outstretched palm and saw his cross. Brentwood’s agent had her. She would never have been homesick for Seabridge or anyone associated with it. She had said the visitor was to be here for a week, which was just about what it would take to get back to Seabridge from here. The reference to the cellars was just the final clue.

Apparently, whoever had the cross was using it as bait to lure her away from Heather Park on the guise her husband was waiting on the other end. Nic looked over at Reagan and they connected with knowing looks.

“So it would seem Brentwood took my cross while I was in Ireland and gave it to his henchman,” Nic said coldly, forcing himself to think like Lester would. “Brentwood’s lackey was then to lure Morgan back to Seabridge with the cross.”

This would explain why he did not have it at the inn when they brought him in for Reagan’s services.

Reagan was beginning to follow his train of thought.

“And Brentwood was having you transported back to Seabridge where you were supposed to be, except he was not counting on me helping you to escape. Nic, we must get her back. He will use her and your child as leverage against you.”

Fate was being fickle. 

“Yes, how prophetic.” Nic shifted his gaze blankly to the south.

Sir Giles recognized the signs. Nic was mentally preparing for battle. The old man smiled. He had seen Nic in action, and Brentwood did not stand a chance.  Brentwood was a dead man, and he would place his bet on The McKinnon.

Nic thanked the boy and turned to Sir Giles, asking about the time frame of their leaving the day before.

“It was around lunch if I understand correctly. Morgan had already broken her midday fast and we were all in the barracks eating. The visitor arrived while Simon was on watch. I have already punished the guard who was not at his post. No one should leave Simon by himself. He is a good boy, but a simpleton.”

Nic reasoned they had at least twelve or fifteen hours on them. They had passed them in the night. There was no doubt that the two lone riders were Morgan and her captor.

Nic knew if Morgan’s kidnapper was riding hard then they would never catch them before they reached Seabridge. If the kidnapper was giving them a more comforting pace, they might just cover the distance. He doubted the henchman was allowing for Morgan’s condition. It was actually to Brentwood’s advantage for her to miscarry. Nic knew they must continue a plan of them not reaching her in time before Brentwood secured her behind the estate walls.

“Sir Giles, when are we expecting Cullen to return?”

“My guess is not until later today or tomorrow. He left yesterday morning."

"Why?" Nic thought it was odd that his brother should take off less than a week after arriving home.