A Highland Folly (27 page)

Someone was with her. Under the pile of rocks? Where was Pippy? Was he imprisoned, too? If not, would he find Lucais? So many questions. No answers.

When the order was repeated in a whisper, she opened her eyes. The stars shone overhead, warning that the moon had not yet risen. It could not be more than an hour after she had clambered over the rocks. She moaned again as a pulse of agony creased her forehead, beginning just over her left ear.

“Lady Kinloch?”

A shadowed form stepped in front of her.

“What happened?” she cried. “Help me. I—”

A broad hand that stank of gin clamped over her mouth. She struggled to break free. In horror, she realized that her arms were lashed around a huge stone. She tried to kick the man in front of her but discovered she was standing on an unsteady rock. It wobbled, and water splashed into her face.

The river!

The current pulled at her skirt, threatening to sweep her off the stone. When the hand no longer covered her mouth, she moaned when her captor tightened the rope around her wrists. Pain shot along her arms to settle in her shoulders, and she snarled a curse. She could not see him, so he must be standing on the other side of what could only be one of the bridge supports.

“Stand still if you want to stay alive, Lady Kinloch,” he warned.

“Mr. Potter!” she gasped, easily recognizing Lucais's assistant's voice. Sure she must be mistaken, she strained to see him. Her feet nearly slipped again. With a cry, she froze, afraid to move.

He laughed.

She tried to see where he was. The sharp edge of the stones cut into her back. Fearfully, she knew she would not feel the discomfort for long. Even in summer, the water of the Abhainn an Uruisg was as cold as the heart of the mountains.

When he moved to where she could see him, she stared. “Mr. Potter?” she whispered, still not able to accept what her eyes were showing her.

“Awake, Anice?”

She flinched as he boldly used her given name. With the last of her dignity, she said, “Apparently.”

“Don't you want to know why you are going to die here?”

“I am not planning on dying here tonight.” She glanced at the black water that reached the ribbons beneath her bodice.

He chuckled. “Then mayhap you shall find a change in your plans.”

She shrieked as he kicked aside the small rock. Pain seared her arms, and she fought to keep her face above the water. Laughter filled her ears. Choking, she leaned against the stones of the support and stood on tiptoe.

He pinched her face between his broad hands. “Don't you want to know the reason you're going to die here?”

“Yes,” she whispered. If she did not accede to Potter's sadistic games, she would be hurt worse. She must humor him until Lucais could find her. She wondered if that was possible. Only if Pippy brought him here. She wanted to sag against the rock, but then the water would be in her face.

“Why, do you think?” Mr. Potter continued.

“I assume you are angry about something.”

He chortled, the sound deranged. “So you do have some intelligence. More than your lover.”

“Lover?”

“Do you think I am witless? You and MacFarlane have been obvious in your attraction to each other.” He flipped the icy water toward her, laughing when she choked as it hit her face. “He denied me what I wanted, so now I shall take what he wanted.”

“Me?”

“You and this bridge. With the failure of this project, he will be ruined as he tried to ruin me.”

Her eyes grew wide. “It was you! You were the one who broke the tools and set fire to the camp.” She moaned. “And set off the gunpowder in the castle. That was why you were up on the hill when we were looking for Neilli and Parlan.”

“Idiots, both of them.” He climbed out of the water and stared at her. “Kinloch was eager to be my ally in putting an end to this project. He convinced his sister to help, but she wanted to back out when I told her what I planned to do with the gunpowder that they stole.”

“And Parlan?”

“He will be as happy to see you dead as I will be to see MacFarlane ruined. Kinloch can have this desolate glen and be the fine lord he wishes to be.”

Anice gasped. Caught up in her joy of having this family, she had pushed aside the thought of how Parlan must have been furious to discover he was not their grandmother's heir. She never had considered that he would play a part in seeing her dead.

As if he were privy to her thoughts, which added to her terror, Potter said, “He did not want you dead, although he will not be unhappy with that. He simply wanted to scare you away when you would not agree to take his sister to London, which he had hoped was the best way to get rid of you so he could rule Ardkinloch in all but name. What? No quick answer?”

“I have nothing to say to you! I do not waste my breath on speaking to beasts.”

He smiled as the light from the rising moon flitted on every ripple in the current. “How long do you think you can stand here on tiptoe? You probably got no sleep last night, tending to your cousins.” He waded back toward her. “When you get drowsy …”

When his hand pressed on her shoulder, water swept into her mouth, and she fought to breathe. Desperately, she tilted her head back to gulp some air.

He released her, and she pushed herself up on her toes again. Her feet ached, and the tug of the river against her clothes threatened to drag her beneath the water. Leaning against the thick support, she quivered.

“Don't worry about your darling MacFarlane,” Potter went on cruelly. “He cannot be as lucky again as when I tried to rid the glen of him with a single shot.”

“That was you? You tried to kill us?”

“Just him.” His mouth tightened. “When I saw you wandering around like a hoyden in a man's clothes, I mistook you for MacFarlane. You will not leave him to mourn you. He will be at work at this hour. I will let him know that you will be dying here, so he can rot in perdition thinking of what you have suffered.” He reached under his soaked coat and pulled out a strip of cloth.

“No!” she cried.

He pressed her back against the stones and forced the material into her mouth. When he tied it behind her, her hair twisted in the knots. Tears sprang from her eyes, and he smiled. “I do not want you shouting the truth to anyone who might chance by.”

Anice glared at him as he slapped her cheek sharply and went toward the shore. She tried to see which direction he was going in, but the thick bridge support blocked her view. With a silent moan, she knew he was setting the ambush that would end in Lucais's death. Then he would return, and, if she was still alive, he would kill her too. Only his eagerness to slay Lucais had kept him from killing her first.

Again she tested her bonds. It was useless. While she was senseless, Potter had taken the opportunity to secure her well. There would be no escape that way.

Her neck ached, but she did not dare to lower her head. Cursing at Potter did no good. She scanned what she could see of the shore. No one would come this way with the path blocked from Killiebige. Looking in the other direction, she wondered if someone might be abroad from Chester Hills. Hysterical laughter teased her. The feud between the two families would keep anyone from wandering toward Killiebige from the marquess's house.

A scream severed the soft sounds of the night. A man's scream! Lucais! She wanted to cry out his name, but she could not.

Something pressed against her hands. Then she was free. Pulling the cloth from her mouth, she stared at Lucais. She slipped her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. They warmed as he pinned her against the stones in a gentle captivity she did not want to escape.

The scream came again.

She pulled back and nearly was swept into the deeper water. As Lucais grasped her hand, pulling her toward shore, she cried, “What is happening?”

“Your allies have come to your rescue. All of them.” He laughed as he handed her up on the bank.

In disbelief she stared at an unmistakable sight. Potter was lying on the ground, staring up in horror at Bonito. When he attempted to move, the llama kicked at him.

Lucais said, “Call him off, Anice. I am not sure he will heed me.”

Water splattered from her as she lurched to the llama. Putting her arm around his neck, she whispered, “
Muchas gracias
, Bonito,
mi amigo
.”

At Lucais's shout, several men appeared out of the shadows. Again amazement overwhelmed her. The men wore the livery of Chester Hills. Glancing at Lucais, she exerted all her will not to ask the questions that demanded answers. She watched in silence as the men pulled a panic-stricken Potter to his feet and led him back toward the camp.

Lucais turned to her and curved his hand along her face. “Sweetheart, did he hurt you?”

“Something hit my hard head, but it shall heal.” Unable to keep her curiosity silent any longer, she asked, “How did you know where to find me?”

“Pippy and Bonito caused such a ruckus in the barnyard in Ardkinloch that your aunt sent someone to quiet them.” He chuckled. “It seems they interrupted an impromptu celebration at Ardkinloch at the announcement that Sir Busby and Miss Kinloch have agreed to wed. When your aunt could not quiet them, the family sought you to calm them. They realized that you were missing. It seems, in the midst of her betrothal, Miss Kinloch's conscience got the better of her, and she owned to helping Potter try to halt the project. Your often skimble-skamble family quickly realized you might be in danger. They went searching for you. Reverend Dole said you were looking for me, and I tried to trace your path here.”

“But it ended at the rocks.”

“Aye,” he whispered, and she knew he was trying to restrain the strong emotions that brought forth the brogue he usually hid, “but Bonito and Pippy had followed me. While Pippy and I looked for you, Bonito went after Potter. It seems sheep are not the only thing he guards.”

“Pippy? Where is Pippy?”

“I am not sure. He was—” Lucais yelped as Pippy ran up to them, paused, and shook every ruddy hair, spraying them with cold water. Pulling Anice to him, Lucais ran his hands along her back, heating her skin with his eager touch. “Sweetheart, can you ever forgive me?”

“Mayhap … if I had any idea why you were so angry with me.”

“Not at you, but at the fate that made me my father's heir. I had not wanted you to know the truth, because I had wanted you to fall in love with me as Lucais MacFarlane. When your cousin accused me with the truth, I feared you had known it all along.”

“Known what?”

“That since my older brother's death, I have been addressed as Lord Chesterton.”

She leaned her cheek against his chest, then pulled back with a gasp, “Lord
Chesterton
? Like Chester Hills?”

“Yes.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “There is that issue as well. You are a Kinloch. I am of the family your family is foresworn to hate.”

“That is all so silly. If—” She shivered as a breath of night wind turned her wet gown icy cold.

Lifting her into his arms, he whispered, “I shall explain while we get you out of those wet clothes.”

“Lucais!”

He laughed. “Do not chide me for a thought that
you
have, but it is a thought we need to pursue further after we discuss a few other things.”

“A few other things?” she asked as she rested her cheek against his chest.

“Patience, sweetheart.”

“I have never been patient.”

With a laugh, he said, “Neither have I, so I think it is time we have the talk that we both have been avoiding for too long.”

“An excellent idea.” She laughed when Pippy barked. “I think we are all in agreement.”

Epilogue

Anice held out the packet of letters to Lord Chesterburgh. The marquess took them and paged through the fragile pages. With a sad smile, he drew out one sheet. He scanned it, then tossed it onto the fire on the hearth in his bookroom.

When she gasped, he said, “I trust you do not mind that we have rid our families of the last cause of discord between us.”

“I thought you wanted to read these more closely.”

He handed her back the packet and motioned toward the hearth. “I can only suggest that you might wish to destroy the lot.”

Handing his father a glass of brandy, Lucais said, “Anice is very sentimental about all things Kinloch.”

“Not this.” She knelt by the fire and opened the top page. The words
Chester Hills
popped out at her as they had before, but now she understood the rest.

The hatred between the two families had not come because of choosing different sides in a war or stealing sheep from each other's herds or even a murder. It had been created out of love. A Kinloch daughter had been courted and seduced by a son of this household. Courted, seduced, and then left alone at the kirk door on her wedding day while the son sought the attentions of another young woman … or so the Kinlochs had assumed. By the time they knew the truth, Lord Kinloch's daughter had killed herself in shame and the Kinlochs had sworn a blood oath never to forgive their neighbors. What had happened to the young man, no one seemed to know.

“Such a sad story,” she whispered, and tossed the rest of the pages onto the fire. “If she had dared to trust that he truly loved her, this anger might never have separated the glen for so many generations.”

“It can be difficult to believe that someone truly loves you.” Lucais knelt beside her and folded her hands in his. “Do you believe I truly love you, Anice?”

“Yes.” Hearing a door close, she knew the marquess was granting them privacy for this long-overdue conversation. “And do you believe I truly love you?” She put her finger to his lips before he could reply. “Do you believe that I truly love
you
, Lucais MacFarlane? I do not care a rap that you have any other name.”