Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (3 page)

Her spine went rigid again, and she stared out the window. “You wouldn’t like being married to a woman like me, Mr. Sinclair. We’re too different.”

He knew she’d said that to push him away, but he didn’t believe it at all. To ease her melancholy, he teased, “Ah, but you’d like being married to a man like me, lass.” He sent her a lazy smile, but she didn’t respond to it. Her face was pale with worry, and she continued to stare out the window.

“We have to find Amelia,” she insisted, in an effort to change the subject. “That is of utmost importance.”

“We’ll try.” But his mind was not upon finding Amelia Andrews. Instead, he was wondering how long it would take Margaret to realize what a mistake she was making. This was the most impulsive thing she’d ever done—leaving in the middle of the night with him. Even now, she wasn’t prepared for a long journey. Every hair was tucked into place within the bonnet, and not a smudge of dirt marred her face. She looked as if she were about to set foot within a palace instead of taking a journey north.

“We’ll have to stop for supplies at the edge of the city,” he reminded her.

She frowned at that. “We’ve no time to stop. Already Lord Lisford is over an hour ahead of us. We have to move swiftly before he gets too far.”

“And you believe he avoided the main roads?” he asked, settling back in his seat.

She nodded. “The tolls and turnpikes would slow him down. If he’s trying to force her to elope, he’ll want to reach Scotland as quickly as possible.”

Cain wasn’t so sure of that. Lisford struck him as a baw-headed fool, one who acted without thinking. “Did you say Lord Castledon is searching the main roads?”

“Yes. I want to go in a different direction, in case the earl doesn’t find her first.” Grimly, she added, “If Lord Lisford has hurt Amelia in any way, you have my permission to kill him.”

“Bloodthirsty, aren’t you?” he murmured. Though he suspected she didn’t truly mean it, there was no question that if Amelia’s virtue had been compromised, Margaret would want the man’s head.

“When it comes to the viscount, yes.” She rubbed at her bare arms, and it was then that he noticed she had no wrap. Cain took off his coat and handed it to her. Margaret accepted it gratefully and drew the edges around her shoulders.

He didn’t blame her for her anger. She’d endured public humiliation from the man and was determined to protect her sister from suffering the same fate.

“Thank you for agreeing to accompany me,” she said after a time.

“What would you have done if I’d said nay?”

“I would have hired someone else.” She rested her head against the side of the coach, adding, “But I’m glad you agreed to come. I feel safer with you.”

The words dug into him like a dull blade. He knew that she felt nothing for him, aside from friendship. She believed he was acting out of Jonah’s interests, nothing more.

The truth was, he’d never have let her go alone. She had damned near ripped his heart out of his chest a few years ago. She got beneath his skin in a way no one else did. It burned him to know that she held such power over him, even now.

“You shouldna feel safe with me, lass. You ken what I want from you.” He leaned forward, resting his wrists upon his knees.

“You might pretend to be wicked, Cain Sinclair,” she said softly. “But I know you too well. There is honor in you, whether you want to believe it or not.”

He insisted upon stopping for a few supplies before they continued north. Personally, Margaret believed it was unnecessary. This journey wouldn’t last more than a day or two, and she felt certain that they could stop for food at an inn, if needed.

“These roads are in the middle of nowhere,” he countered. “And the towns along the way are no’ places where I’d want to stop, lass.”

He’d left her no choice and bought enough food for over a week. With every minute the men spent loading the supplies into the coach, her frustration level grew. Though she knew her anger was born from the need to protect Amelia, she found it impossible to remain calm.

Her sister could be in trouble at this very moment. That ruffian had taken Amelia against her will and was trying to force her into marriage. It was appalling.

But when Cain dismissed her driver and hired another coachman, Margaret grew uneasy. She’d known that her driver had wanted no part in this, but hiring a stranger seemed dangerous. She trusted Sinclair to help her follow Amelia . . . but no one else.

“Are you certain you’d rather not drive?” she asked Cain. She was beginning to wonder if he was deliberately stalling to keep her from making this journey.

“This was your idea, no’ mine,” he said. “And your driver is going to alert your father.”

Which meant that Lord Lanfordshire would send even more men after her, once he discovered that both daughters were gone. “Why? We’re losing so much time, and now my father will be furious with both of us.”

Cain helped her back inside, and only when he’d shut the door behind him did he answer. “You’re daft if you think we can do this alone, Miss Andrews. We need his men, and Lord Lanfordshire will want to find his daughter.”

“We shouldn’t have stopped,” she countered. “Amelia needs us, while we’ve wasted so much time. We didn’t need so many supplies.”

“And what do you ken about traveling to Scotland?” he shot back. “You’re used to riding in your comfortable coach along the main roads, and it takes longer than a week. You’ve ne’er taken these roads, lass. I have. There’s a reason why men don’t travel these roads. There’s naught to be found. It willna do your sister any good if we starve to death before we reach her.”

“Do you think I can even touch a bite of food, knowing that Lisford has her?” Margaret insisted. Her stomach clenched at the thought of Amelia suffering.

“You will after two days,” he predicted. “These roads are no’ comfortable, lass. And he mightn’t have gone this way.”

“I’ll endure it if I must.” Though she could tell already that her teeth would rattle out of her head by the time they reached Amelia. These back roads were rough and filled with holes.

For the next few hours, she stared outside at the midnight sky, hoping that they would intercept Lisford. But with each mile that passed, she grew more worried that Sinclair was right. The viscount wasn’t a man who would endure this kind of discomfort. Her backside was bruised, and she’d been jostled so many times, she doubted if she would sit comfortably for a week.

They had stopped at a few turnpikes, but they had already veered off the main pathway and had taken a different route that she’d never traveled.

Cain Sinclair sat with his hands on his knees, staring out at the darkness. He’d made no effort at all to sleep, and she was deeply conscious of his presence.

He was a tall man, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that he was handsome. His black hair hung down past his shoulders, but it looked smooth, like a raven’s wings. She doubted he’d ever worn a waistcoat in his life. This was a man who knew nothing about her way of life . . . and yet, she couldn’t take her gaze from him.

“You’re staring at me, Miss Andrews,” he accused, turning to face her.

She looked away immediately. “I apologize, Mr. Sinclair. My thoughts were wandering, and I was paying little attention to anything, I fear.”

The lie slipped easily from her lips. She’d wanted to touch that dark hair, to run her fingers along the edge of his strong jaw. Curiosity made her even more intrigued by the idea of exploring the hard ridges of his shoulders. Because he was forbidden.

To distract herself, she closed her eyes, trying to sleep. But in her imagination, other visions tormented her. This man tempted her and always had. And now she was traveling alone with him, where anything might happen.

Her inner voice was horrified by the idea, while another part of her didn’t care. She’d made this decision to save Amelia, and whatever consequences arose from that, she would face without hesitation. But she sensed that the carefully crafted distance between them was starting to crumble.

“Why did you ask for my help, lass?” he asked. “When you wanted naught to do with me?”

“Because you know these roads better than anyone else.”

A twisted smile came over his face. “I think you had other reasons for asking.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. How could she say that she trusted him, that she believed he could help her when no other man could? Other men would give up the search if they didn’t find Amelia. Sinclair wouldn’t.

He leaned in closer. “If you were wanting to be alone with me, all you had to do was ask.”

Margaret stiffened. “That was never the reason, Mr. Sinclair.” She met his gaze squarely. “I intend to find my sister, no matter how long it takes. I was responsible for her, and it was my fault that this happened.” She folded her arms and stared out at the darkness once again. Though she supposed he was only trying to get a reaction from her, the teasing made her angrier. She
did
blame herself for this. Her stomach ached with fear, and she was holding back all her emotions.

What if the viscount had hurt her sister? What if, at this very moment, her sister was suffering from his unwanted attention?

“It wasna your fault,” came Cain’s answer.

“It was,” she argued back.

“Torturing yourself is no’ going to help.” He reached out and took her gloved hand. “We
will
find her. I promise you that.”

She risked a glance back at him, and in his deep blue eyes, she saw a man who intended to stand by her, no matter what happened. It should have reassured her, but instead, her emotions knotted up inside her. She might have brought him on this journey to find her sister . . . but Cain had his own intentions.

“Get some sleep,” he said quietly. “You’re going to need it.”

Margaret closed her eyes, though she wasn’t tired at all. How did he even think it was possible to sleep, with such jarring roads? Her teeth were clenched together, as if she could still the rattling of her body.

And it didn’t stop. Mile after mile, she fought to remain in her seat, despite the jostling. Eventually, she gave up the pretense and opened her eyes. Sinclair kept his stare fixed out the window, searching for a sign of something.

“How much longer do you think we’ll have to travel before we catch up to Amelia?” Margaret asked.

Sinclair said nothing at all, which wasn’t a good sign. But possibly he hadn’t heard her.

“Mr. Sinclair, I asked you—”

“I know what you asked.” He crossed his arms. “And I don’t think she went this way, Miss Andrews.”

Before he could say another word, the coach hit a large hole in the road, and Margaret struck her head. An involuntary cry of pain escaped her.

Sinclair was at her side immediately. “Are you all right, lass?”

She touched her hand to her temple, wincing at the tender spot. “It’s not bleeding.” Even so, she would have a terrible bruise. “Is the driver
trying
to go along the roughest part of the road?” This journey was nothing at all like she’d imagined it would be.

You shouldn’t have left London,
her common sense reminded her.
This is no place for a lady.

Sinclair glanced outside, but there was little to see. “It’s been raining, and the mud makes it harder to travel.”

Margaret swallowed hard, and the seeds of doubt began to take root. What if all this travel had been for nothing? But then, she’d wanted to ensure that Lisford was pursued on every road. Her discomfort didn’t matter, if Amelia had endured the same or worse.

“Will we stop for the night, if we don’t find Lisford?” she asked furtively, almost afraid of what he’d say. It seemed unlikely that Cain Sinclair would stop for any reason.

“We don’t have to, except to change horses,” he admitted. “It’s why I brought our supplies. We can eat along the way.”

Margaret nodded in agreement. That was what she’d wanted, though she hadn’t expected the roads to be this terrible. In her mind, she’d imagined overtaking the viscount within the hour and rescuing her sister. The reality was far different.

“Or we can turn back,” he said softly. “You’re no’ used to traveling like this.”

In other words, he thought she couldn’t endure the hardship. Well, he was wrong about that. “I want to find my sister,” she informed him, adjusting her gloves. “No matter how long it takes.”

Cain removed his hat and folded his arms behind his head. “Try to go back to sleep, lass. The journey has only begun.”

That was what she feared. They had been traveling for miles, and there was no sign of anyone on these roads. She might be following a wild trail with no end in sight.

Sinclair had his eyes closed, and his muscled forearm rested across his lap. The cool night air didn’t seem to bother him, and she huddled inside his coat. It was warm and smelled of whisky and male skin. Wearing his clothing made her feel as if she were in his embrace, and it warmed her in a different way.

You’re too good for the likes of me, lass
, he’d accused.

That wasn’t it at all. It was simply that they came from opposite worlds. From the moment she’d laid eyes upon Cain Sinclair, she’d known exactly the sort of man he was. Rough-mannered, overbearing, and confident in himself.