Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (39 page)

An older man wearing an apron came forward. “Take it outside, lads. Go out and cool yer brains.”

Walker reached out and seized MacKinloch by the shirt. “Aye. Let’s go and talk outside.” But his efforts were met with resistance.

“I’m no’ going anywhere with you. I’m going to finish my drink.” Though MacKinloch spoke coolly, he appeared uneasy about what was happening.

In answer, Walker picked up the mug and poured it over his head. “It looks like you’re finished, now, aren’t you?”

Ale dripped down the Highlander’s face, and he lunged at Walker. Another man dragged him back, shoving him toward the door. MacKinloch stumbled, and Cain caught him by the arm. He kept a tight grip on the man’s elbow. “We need to talk,” he said grimly. “About my brother.”

He wanted to know exactly what the man intended to say on the witness stand tomorrow morning. Frustration redoubled inside him, for he sensed in his bones that MacKinloch was the murderer. He’d tried to lay the blame upon Paul, but Cain didn’t believe that for an instant. His best friend would never allow Jonah to languish in the Tolbooth if he’d done aught.

“Aye, then,” MacKinloch agreed. “We’ll talk outside. After I’ve finished here.”

But Cain strongly suspected MacKinloch was walking into a fight to avoid him. He released the man’s elbow, letting him lead the way outside. There was a risk that MacKinloch would try to run, but he wanted to know what the disagreement was between him and Walker. He suspected MacKinloch had offered to pay the man to become an alibi.

Cain made his way to the doorway, where the unmistakable sounds of fighting broke through the stillness. When he stepped outside, he saw that he wasn’t the only one watching. A few men had gathered, and one nudged Cain. “I’ll bet you half a crown that Walker wins.”

“I couldna take that bet. My money would be on Walker, too,” Cain admitted.

Although MacKinloch was older, possibly thirty or so, he was fast. What he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in speed. He ducked a punch and followed up with his own blow to Walker’s stomach.

The man grunted and doubled over, but as MacKinloch tried to leave, Walker ran after him, throwing himself at the man.

The two men grappled on the ground, and Cain asked a bystander, “What money does MacKinloch owe him?”

The man shrugged. “They were playing cards. I suppose it was a debt from their last game. Although—” He paused a moment, thinking to himself. “Walker had traveled south to visit friends. It wasna here.”

Cain already knew that from the man’s testimony this morning, but he wondered what part Walker had played. Had he only been paid to hide MacKinloch’s guilt? Or was there something else?

“Whate’er happened, MacKinloch had best pay the man. Walker’s no’ one to give up a fight.”

Cain waited until Walker took a moment to catch his breath. He moved between the two men swiftly and asked, “You were there that night. Did MacKinloch kill the earl?”

The sly smile on Walker’s face infuriated him, though the man shook his head. “I was playing cards that night. I’ve no idea.”

Damn him. Cain needed more answers, and he knew Walker wasn’t about to give them. He stepped back to let them finish the fight, not caring how badly it went. MacKinloch deserved to be beaten bloody for bringing Jonah with him and letting his brother take the blame.

But after one more blow, the Highlander went stumbling backward. Cain watched in horror as the man struck his head against a large stone beside the gate. A sickening crunch resounded and MacKinloch went motionless.

Some of the onlookers rushed forward, but Cain held back, disbelieving what he’d witnessed.

And then came a shout from one of them. “He’s dead!”

“Miss Andrews, you have a caller,” the butler informed her. “Mr. Lewis Barnabas is here.”

Though it was past the hour for callers, Margaret nodded. “I will speak with him in the drawing room.”

She had sent a letter to Barnabas only a few days ago, asking him to come and see her at Falsham. Though she had filled the note with empty compliments and her thanks that he’d given them a place to stay, she had another reason for sending it.

Lewis Barnabas had departed the same day they’d left for Ballaloch, after receiving a letter about a family member who was in trouble. He’d traveled north, along the same road where Strathland had been murdered.

But her true reason for writing to him was because she’d remembered where she had heard his name before. If she was correct, Lewis Barnabas was the cousin to the Earl of Strathland—and the heir to all of his estates. It was too strong of a coincidence for Lord Strathland to die only days after his cousin had learned that he’d left the asylum.

Her heart was pounding as she entered the drawing room. She didn’t know how dangerous this man was, and although both Paul and Juliette were here in the house, she was afraid of what to say to him. If he was responsible for the murder, he would never do anything to incriminate himself.

Her brain was racing, trying to come up with plausible reasons why she’d asked him to come. The easiest course of action was to behave like an empty-headed miss who had left Cain and become infatuated with him. She’d sensed his interest in her, and perhaps by encouraging that, he might reveal what had happened that night. It was for that reason she decided not to have her sister or Paul present in the room. With the doors open and servants coming and going freely, that would be enough for propriety’s sake.

The moment she stepped inside the drawing room, Lewis Barnabas’s face lit up with interest. “Miss Andrews,” he greeted her, bowing slightly. “You are looking as lovely as ever.”

“Thank you.” She offered him a bright smile and said, “Although it is late for callers, I
am
glad that you stopped to see me. I presume you received my letter?”

“I did, indeed.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. Margaret ordered tea and refreshments from the footman and then gestured for Mr. Barnabas to sit.

“Is everything well with your family?” she asked, sitting with her gloved hands folded. “I understand you received troubling news, a few weeks ago.”

His expression revealed none of his emotions. “I did, yes. But all has been resolved now.”

Resolved? Because his cousin was dead? The utter lack of concern in his voice warned her to tread carefully.

“That—that’s good to hear.” She decided it was best to continue her façade of behaving as if nothing were wrong.

The footman returned with the tea and refreshments, and Margaret poured for both of them.

“You do that very well,” Barnabas complimented. “But then, it isn’t surprising, since you are an unmarried young lady seeking a husband.”

She set down the silver teapot, trying to hide her shaking hands.

Barnabas reached for his cup and continued, “Shall we continue this falsehood, that you are pretending to desire my company? That you are a well-bred young woman wishing to be my countess, now that I have inherited my cousin’s title?” He stirred milk into his tea and continued, “Or we could set aside the pretenses and discuss the real reason I am here.”

“Go on,” she said quietly. Her insides had turned to ice, and she knew not what this man would say or do.

“I am well aware that you have no feelings for me whatsoever. That was clear enough at my supper party when you gave your attentions to that Highlander. I also know that your reputation is ruined and that your chances of a successful marriage are over.” His gaze slid over her body, lingering upon her until she felt the flush of embarrassment. “Though I might consider you for a mistress, you would never make a suitable wife.”

She stiffened at the unexpected insult but said nothing. Instead, she sipped at her tea, choosing her words carefully. “Why did you come to Falsham, Mr. Barnabas?” It was clear that he had his own reasons, and she added, “Or should I call you Lord Strathland now?”

He added sugar to his cup and stirred it. “Lord Strathland will do.” After he drank, he set down the cup and steepled his hands. “I came to speak with you because I am a man who prefers order with no surprises. I know why you sent for me. And, no, I did not kill my cousin.”

That didn’t surprise her at all. A man like Barnabas would never stoop to soiling his hands—he would hire someone instead.

“I never thought you did,” she began.

But before she could voice a single question, he interrupted, “I know that Sinclair’s brother was charged with the murder. And you think to accuse me instead.” Barnabas leaned forward, and in his eyes, she saw a ruthless man, fully capable of killing. “Be aware, Miss Andrews, that in the past few years, the estates have prospered in my hands. I have amassed a great deal of wealth and power. Regardless of what conclusions you may have drawn, I would advise you to keep them to yourself.”

Somehow, she managed to gather up her own courage. He thought she was a meek young woman, easily frightened. She set down her tea and answered, “If you were innocent, you would not say this to me.”

“What I
am
is a man with many resources. Say nothing, and the boy might have a not proven verdict.”

Her heart was beating fiercely, the fear rising so strong, she felt faint. “You want me to remain silent when you hired someone to kill your cousin?”

Barnabas smiled and shrugged. “Try to lay the blame upon me, and you will regret it, Miss Andrews. The boy and Sinclair will both pay the penalty for your foolishness.”

“Cain has done nothing wrong,” she said, rising to her feet. “You cannot touch him.”

Barnabas stood and picked up his hat. “Underestimating me is a dangerous prospect, Miss Andrews.” He moved toward the door, adding, “Perhaps Sinclair could share a cell with his brother at the Tolbooth. Then he could bid him good-bye on the morning he’s hanged.”

His callous manner only convinced her that she had to bring him to justice somehow. “I’m afraid I must decline,
Mr. Barnabas
.” She emphasized his name, making it clear she would not recognize him as the earl. “I cannot remain silent for all the wrong reasons.”

“I think you’ll change your mind, Miss Andrews.” With that, he bowed and walked out.

It was long past midnight when Margaret heard the sound of footsteps in the hall. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all, after her conversation with Barnabas. Silently, she crept out of bed and opened her door. Cain stood with his forehead resting against the wall, palms on either side. He didn’t seem to be aware of her, so she whispered, “Cain.”

When he lifted his head, she beckoned for him to come inside her room, opening the door a little wider.

His steps were heavy as he went inside, and she lit a lamp. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“MacKinloch is dead.”

Her blood turned to ice, and she couldn’t breathe for a moment. “How? Who killed him?”

A strange expression twisted his face. “It’s good that you don’t think I murdered him.”

Margaret moved behind him to close the door. “Well, of course you didn’t. We needed him alive for Jonah’s case. Especially since he was likely the one who shot the earl.” She wondered if Barnabas had somehow made contact with MacKinloch and hired him for that purpose.

“Who would believe that now?” Cain ventured. “Without MacKinloch’s statement, we’ve got nothing. Jonah is going to hang, and the other witnesses canna change that.”

The hollow tone in his voice devastated her. She led him forward to stand by the coal hearth. He warmed his hands, but not once would he look at her. He stared at the fire for a long time in silence. Then at last, he met her gaze. “I have to save him, Margaret.”

“And you will.” She drew her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe. Though she questioned whether or not to tell him of Barnabas’s visit, she did not want to be threatened into silence. She pulled him close and insisted, “You will not confess to a murder you didn’t commit.”

“How else can I protect him?” He lifted her chin up, kissing her softly. “I canna stand back and let him die.”

“Nothing is worth the cost of your life,” she countered. “Nothing, do you hear me?” Margaret stood as tall as she could, kissing him ardently. Against his mouth, she whispered, “I love you, Cain. And we will fight for him.” She told him then, of Barnabas’s visit. But she wasn’t prepared for the anger rising upon Cain’s face.