Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (28 page)

She blushed fiercely. “You shouldn’t do that in public, Mr. Sinclair.”

“I do many things I shouldn’t, lass.” He watched as Merrill and Annie accompanied her to the house. When she glanced back at him, he met her gaze before driving the wagon back toward the land where the crofters dwelled together.

His house stood upon land between Ballaloch and Eiloch Hill. Cain drove the wagon toward the small wooden house with a peat roof. He drew the horses to a stop and got out, expecting to find smoke curling from the chimney. But there was nothing.

Unease caught him low in the stomach. Though it was summer, there should have been a cooking fire. Cain opened the door and called out, “Jonah?”

The house was cold and silent. His younger brother could have gone out hunting or fishing, logic told him. But his instincts warned that this was more than that. He knelt by the cold hearth and saw that there had been no fire here for days. There were hardly any ashes at all.

Cain crossed the space and saw that his brother’s belongings were missing. His clothing, all the food . . . and their father’s pistol.

Jonah was gone.

A curse rose to his mouth, out of fear that the boy had run away. He’d threatened to, more than once, but he’d always had Grania MacKinloch to talk him out of it. Grania had been a foster mother to the boy, along with her husband, Rory. Grania had died in the spring, but Rory would know where the boy had gone. Cain couldn’t imagine that the man would leave Jonah alone. In the past, Jonah had spent his days with them and his nights in their own house. Had something changed?

He uttered a silent prayer that his brother had gone to live with Rory, that he was somehow safe.

Cain walked among the crofters’ houses, and several folk greeted him on the way to Rory’s cottage. None knew what had become of Jonah, nor had they seen him in weeks. The dark worry caught hold and grew.

When he knocked at Rory’s house, it took several minutes before the older man answered. His hair was shot with gray, his eyes reddened. In one hand, he held a bottle of whisky.

“You’re looking for Jonah, then. About time you came back for him. But he’s been gone nigh a month, I’d wager.”

“Where is he?” Cain demanded.

“Oh, hither and yon. He said he was wanting adventure. That you wouldna allow him to go anywhere.”

“He’s four-and-ten,” Cain shot back. “Why would I let him go somewhere alone?”

The older man shrugged, his balance weaving back and forth. It was clear that he’d spent most of the night with the whisky bottle. “He wasna alone. MacKinloch went with him.”

Cain’s jaw tightened. “
Which
MacKinloch?”

“Joseph, I think it was. Aye, I’m fairly certain ’twas him.”

Cain stilled at that. Joseph had once been a footman for Margaret’s family. His sister had been taken by Lord Strathland’s men, and after Strathland had ordered the girl killed, Joseph had vowed to avenge his sister’s death. Cain didn’t want his younger brother involved with the man in any way.

“Where did they go?”

“Let me think.” The man took another drink of whisky. “I canna remember wha’ he said.”

“Were they going to Strathland’s estate?” He knew that Joseph had been responsible for some fires, in retaliation against the earl. Now that Lord Strathland was locked away in an asylum, they might have tried looting the house.

“Nay. They were going on a longer journey. To find you, I think.” Rory nodded and leaned against the doorframe.

Cain felt as if someone had slit his throat. He’d never expected his brother to run away—not like this. And if Joseph MacKinloch had accompanied him, it would only drag Jonah into more trouble.

He mumbled a thanks to Rory and walked blindly toward his house. Never should he have left his brother alone. After Grania’s death, it was clear that Rory was more interested in getting drunk than caring for a boy who wasn’t his.

The burden of guilt weighed on Cain’s shoulders as he unhitched the horses and led them to the stream to drink. He had to go after Jonah, find him, and bring him home safely. Which meant leaving Margaret behind.

One action had torn apart his plans. He would have to leave, first thing in the morning, after he’d gathered enough supplies for the journey. The thought of riding away didn’t sit well with him, but what choice was there? Margaret would understand what he had to do.

He only hoped it wouldn’t take long to find Jonah.

Her mother was weeping and hugging her tightly. “Thank God you’re all right. Oh, my darling, you don’t know how happy I am to see you alive.” Tears dampened her cheeks, and Margaret didn’t know if they were hers or Beatrice’s.

Her father stood back a little, and sheepishly admitted, “I want to give you a hug of welcome, but I don’t think your mother is going to let go of you.”

Margaret smiled and held out her arm so he could embrace both of them. The scents of home surrounded her—the soft floral tones of her mother and the darker sandalwood of her father.

When at last they allowed her to step back, she asked, “Is Amelia all right?”

“Yes, very,” Beatrice said. “She married the Earl of Castledon after he saved her from abduction. They are quite happy together.”

Then it seemed the viscount hadn’t lied. In spite of all the mishaps, Margaret was glad to hear that her sister had been rescued. She gestured toward Annie and John Merrill, introducing them. “Mr. Merrill loaned us the use of his wagon and an extra horse to get here.”

A strained look came over Beatrice’s face. “You were escorted home by strangers?”

Time to admit the truth. “No, Mother. Cain Sinclair was my escort, both in leaving London and returning home.”

“And where is he now?” her father asked. Though his words were calm, Margaret recognized the silent threat beneath them.

“I sent him to go and see his younger brother, Jonah.” She clutched at her skirts, hoping neither of them would see the telltale flush on her cheeks. “Anyway, Mr. Merrill and Annie are both very good servants, and I thought they could help us for a time.”

Her mother recognized Margaret’s change-the-subject tactic, and sent her a warning look. “Perhaps. Mrs. Larson has been away visiting Amelia, so extra help would be welcome.” Glancing toward the servants, she added, “Provided you have experience, of course.”

“They do, and I will vouch for their character,” Margaret said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would love a hot bath and one of my own gowns.”

“What happened to yours?” her father asked. His voice held a trace of murder within it, as if he believed Cain had torn it from her body in a frenzy of lust. Which wasn’t entirely far from the truth, given the nights they’d spent together.

“It was damaged,” was all she said. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“I will accompany you upstairs,” Beatrice announced. “And Henry, why don’t you speak with Mr. Merrill and Annie and see if they would be of help to us until Mrs. Larson returns.”

Her mother placed her hand upon Margaret’s back and guided her upstairs. When they reached the landing, Beatrice stopped. “Are you all right?” she murmured. “In every way, I mean. Sinclair protected you, didn’t he?”

Margaret shielded her emotions. “I am fine, Mother. Mr. Sinclair kept me from harm.”

And he thoroughly seduced me
, she thought. Never before had she imagined that she would welcome such carnality. She turned away so her mother would not see her burning cheeks.

“But you traveled with him for weeks,” Beatrice continued. “Are you certain?”

“I am, yes.” She squared her shoulders and faced her mother.

A pained expression came over Beatrice’s face. “I cannot understand why you would leave London, with an unmarried man, in search of Amelia. It’s not like you, Margaret.”

She followed her mother inside her bedroom, and when Beatrice closed the door, Margaret admitted, “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I know you’re right.”

Her mother began searching through Margaret’s gowns, discarding one after the other, until she found an embroidered cream morning gown with a prim neckline and long sleeves. Then she lowered her head, as if to gather up her feelings. “You don’t know how I worried about you. I was so frightened you were dead. We never received word from you.”

A sense of guilt clouded over her for that. “I was frightened, too.” Margaret took the gown, folding it in half. “But everything will be fine now.”

“Will it?” Beatrice asked quietly. She stood behind a chair, studying her.

“My life isn’t over,” Margaret reminded her. “I made mistakes, but time will heal them.”

“I hope so.” Beatrice crossed the room and took her into another embrace, stroking her hair. “But you’ll have to stay in Scotland for a while. Even then, I don’t know if the ton will ever forget what happened. You will have to learn to ignore the gossip.”

“I survived, Mother. And in the end, isn’t that more important?”

Her mother nodded. “I just don’t want your chances at happiness to be ruined. Perhaps we could wed you to a foreigner or a titled lord who can look past all this.”

She made it sound as if Margaret had to be traded to another country. No, she was in no haste to decide her future—not yet.

“We will speak of it later,” Margaret said. “In the meantime, I’ve been traveling for so long, I want a hot bath and a chance to sleep in my own bed.”

Beatrice ventured a smile. “You’ve nothing to worry about. I’ll let no one speak ill of you, and I promise we’ll set everything to rights. Now let me see if I can arrange that bath for you.”

She hurried out, and after she’d closed the door behind her, Margaret sat down, feeling like a traitor. Not once had she spoken of Cain’s marriage offer. She’d behaved as if nothing had happened . . . when the truth was, he’d taken her life apart.

Inside this room, every piece of furniture was artfully displayed. The linens were pressed, the cream drapes bordering tall windows that let in a great deal of light. Nothing was out of place.

And yet, she felt a sense of being imprisoned here, closed off from the outside world.

You’ll have to stay in Scotland for a while,
her mother had said. It would be like a seclusion, Margaret guessed.

Her sister Victoria had done the same, never leaving this house for years, out of fear. She’d wept when anyone had tried to lead her outside.

Did her family intend for her life to be the same as her sister’s? Would they shield her from the world like a forgotten book? Placed upon a shelf where no one would ever desire her?

A ball of hurt caught up in her throat at the memory of the last time she’d lain in Cain’s arms. With him, she felt more alive than she’d ever been before. He’d changed her.

This room felt colorless and empty now, like an eggshell. She couldn’t imagine remaining in isolation here, not when she could spend those days living with Cain. Even if they lived in utter poverty, she could imagine him coming home and kissing her until she couldn’t breathe. She strode toward the window, tugging at the sash until she brought fresh air into the room. From the second-floor room, she could see the green land stretching before her for miles. Across the hills lay Eiloch Hill, where the crofters dwelled.

Cain might be there now with his brother. She had promised to go to him, and she would keep that promise.

Her hands moved to her stomach, wondering if there would be a child from the nights she’d shared his bed. She had fallen so far in the past few weeks, surrendering to temptation from a man who was little more than an outlaw.

But none of it seemed to matter anymore. For already she missed him. And she wondered if she had the courage to reach for another life.