The Bodyguard (14 page)

“You’re very beautiful,” he whispered.

Kitt looked deeply into his dark gray eyes, felt the heat of her own awareness rise on her cheeks, and watched with her heart in her throat as he lowered his head toward her mouth.

“ ’Tis forbidden for you to touch me, Alex,” she reminded him. She felt a stab of alarm when her warning had no effect. But she refused to be the one to back away. Her flashing eyes dared him to come closer. Dared him to try and kiss her.

He gave her a wolfish smile. “You let go first.”

She realized her hands were twined in the hair at his nape and snatched them away. “Now you let go,” she said.

The feel of his breath on her flesh had already sent an expectant shiver down her spine, when he finally stepped back.

“You’re safe from me, my lady,” he said, though his eyes sent a different, dangerous message. “I will keep my promise. No matter how great the temptation.”

Kitt could not deny she had wondered what it might be like to kiss him. Perhaps she had even let him see it in her eyes. But she knew better. To succumb to mere physical desire was disaster, plain and simple.

You must get rid of Alex and hire someone else as your bodyguard. Someone safe
.

Even that would be an admission that she could not handle the situation. She could control her own behavior, especially toward her bodyguard. And he had promised to keep his distance. “The matter is forgotten,” she said to Alex. “We will speak of it no more.”

“But—”

“We can enter the castle through the kitchen door,” she said, cutting him off. “ ’Tis likely to be unlocked.”

He opened his mouth as though to continue the discussion
but shut it again without speaking. Perhaps he recognized, as she did, that such an involvement could lead to nothing more than disgrace for her and dishonor for him.

“What do we do if the kitchen door is locked?” he said.

“You’ll have to help me climb in through a window.” She turned and began walking again.

“The windows at Blackthorne Hall are all far above ground and quite small,” he pointed out.

“I’m aware of that, which is why I’ll have to be the one to go in and come around to unlock the door for you.”

They had discovered that Blackthorne Hall was completely unguarded. And why not? Who would dare to steal from the duke? The repercussions would be swift and absolute. Transportation at the very least. If they were caught inside the house, they might even be shot.

Kitt’s heart was already racing from her encounter with Alex, and it speeded up so that she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears as they crossed the moat that surrounded Blackthorne Hall. Her father had taught her to move quietly, to attack an enemy with stealth. She had even been taught there was no dishonor in stealing from one’s enemies. Reiving cattle was practically a Scottish rite of passage.

She had never actually gone on a raid before.

Kitt had practiced all the necessary arts of war, but that was all she had ever done. Practice. This was the
real thing, and she found herself unaccountably frightened by the enormity of what she was doing. She did not want to be transported from the only home she had ever known. She did not want to die.

Given a choice, she would not have chosen to steal. But the duke had left her no choice. Kitt was surprised at the depth of the revulsion she was able to conjure for Blackthorne, even though he was already dead.

A full moon gave them enough light to see where they were going when they reached the grounds on the other side of the moat, but there were no lanterns in any of the upstairs windows they could see to indicate that the occupants were awake. They inched their way around to the back of the castle in the shadows along the wall.

“Ouch!”

“Shh!” Alex warned. “Dinna move. Someone’s coming.”

Kitt instinctively moved anyway, backing up closer to the wall near the kitchen door. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as she was jabbed in a dozen places by the rosebushes at her back. Whoever heard of roses planted near a kitchen door? She tried easing herself away from the pain, but her clothing, and a great deal of skin, had snagged on the thorns.

Kitt was too frightened to move, even to save herself further pain. She breathed through her mouth, panting almost, and the raspy noise sounded loud in her ears. Would they see her? Would they hear her?

She very nearly gasped aloud when she saw who
was walking past them. It was Mr. Ambleside and the Earl of Carlisle. What were they doing out and about so very late? She and Alex had scheduled their clandestine visit far past bedtime to avoid just such an encounter. Kitt couldn’t help overhearing what Mr. Ambleside and the earl were saying.

“I’ve heard from the duke’s brother, his heir,” Mr. Ambleside said. “Lord Marcus refuses to honor the contract, because he doesn’t believe his brother is dead. He says he will not act at all until he sees his brother’s body. He believes His Grace could not have drowned because he is too good a swimmer. Lord Marcus is so certain his brother is alive, that he is sending a detective, a Bow Street Runner, to search for him.”

“Is it possible?” Carlisle asked. “Could Blackthorne be alive?”

“Consider the facts, my lord,” Mr. Ambleside suggested. “Then tell me if you think it is possible.”

“I don’t know what to think,” the earl said. “Even if he was … when he … the sea …”

Kitt strained to hear the earl’s reply but could not make it all out. “Did you hear that?” she whispered to Alex. “The duke may be alive!”

“Whether he is or not, makes no difference to what we must do tonight,” Alex said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m stuck on the rosebushes,” she admitted. His hand brushed her cheek, then followed the line of her throat to her shoulder, sending a shiver along with it. “I can free myself,” she said, anxious to escape his touch.

“Be still,” he said, ignoring her protest.

She felt his hands slide carefully over her shoulders and down her back to where the thorns were embedded. Her flesh quivered at his touch. She moaned and he leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Shh.”

His warm breath made her shiver again.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No. Yes. No.” She jerked when he pulled the cloth free and hissed as a thorn tore her flesh.

“Foolish woman. You’ve hurt yourself.” His voice was low and husky and sounded more like a caress than a scold.

She pressed her forehead against his chest and gritted her teeth to keep from crying out as he freed one thorn at a time.

He was breathing as heavily as she was by the time he was done. “You’re free.”

Tears of pain sparkled in her eyes when she turned her face up to his. “Thank you, Alex.”

“I wish I hadna brought you,” he said curtly.

“I brought you,” she retorted, feeling the frustration that always simmered beneath the surface when anyone suggested she was less capable than she knew herself to be—merely because she was female. “Anyone could have backed up into the roses,” she said. “Even a man.”

“ ’Tis a crime to mar something so precious,” he said. “You should not be taking such risks.”

“I am The MacKinnon, Alex. ’Tis my responsibility to take such risks. Now check the door to see if ’tis unlocked,” she ordered.

He hesitated, then turned away from her and moved the few steps to the kitchen door, which opened when he applied pressure to it. “ ’Tis open.”

She followed him into the quiet kitchen. The fire in the kitchen hearth had been banked for the night but still provided enough light to make sinister shadows. Kitt froze in the doorway, and Alex had to grab her hand to pull her inside and shut the door behind her.

Kitt shook her head in chagrin when she recognized the things that had frightened her. The dark goblins she had seen in the corner turned out to be pots hanging from hooks on the wall. The ghostly silhouettes above her were cooking herbs, rosemary and thyme, hanging from the ceiling.

“If we hurry, we might be able to get in and out before Mr. Ambleside returns,” Alex said. “Which way is the study or the library or wherever it is Mr. Ambleside conducts his business affairs?”

“When I was here last, the butler went to find Mr. Ambleside in a room beyond the Great Hall,” she replied. “I canna be more specific than that.”

“Come on,” he urged. “Hurry!”

Kitt followed quickly after Alex, keeping her back to the stone wall and stopping when Alex stopped. He suddenly backed up into her and turned and clapped a hand over her mouth.

She instinctively fought his hold, but he wrapped his free arm around her, using his body to shield her from whatever he had seen. She was aware of his height and the breadth of his chest and, because her nose was
pressed against the open throat of his shirt, the masculine smell of him.

It was ridiculous to be noticing such things when she ought to be fearing for her life. But perhaps it was as well that his presence kept her distracted. Otherwise she might have gone running craven from the castle. And proved everything he had ever believed about her feminine frailty.

Kitt’s heart pounded in a racketing tattoo from fear … and from the feel of Alex’s body pressed against her own. It was wretched to feel so much, when she did not want to feel anything.

When she heard footsteps moving away, Kitt reached up to push at the hand Alex held against her mouth. “Who was it?” she whispered.

“One of the servants. No wonder there are no guards outside. The place is crawling with people even at this late hour. Come on.”

He hurried away without another word, and she followed him down the hall toward a set of heavy doors. He opened one and peered inside. It was obvious from the crystal glasses on the table between the two wing chairs facing the fireplace, that this was where Mr. Ambleside had entertained the earl. The fire crackled cheerfully and noisily, and several lamps had been lit to brighten the room.

Alex headed for the Sheraton desk angled in the corner. “I’ll look here. You check for a hidden safe.”

“A safe? Where?”

“In the wall behind the pictures, perhaps. Or in the floor.”

Kitt did as Alex instructed, pushing aside several framed landscapes, but found nothing behind them but the stone wall. She lifted the corners of the heavy rug and peered underneath, but the stone floor appeared solid.

“Have you found anything?” she asked.

Alex’s attention was focused on a document he was reading.

Kitt crossed to him and asked, “What do you have there?”

“I found it on the desk. It appears to be a contract between the Duke of Blackthorne and the Earl of Carlisle, entitling the earl to purchase any or all of Blackthorne’s unentailed property in Scotland, including Blackthorne Hall,
upon the duke’s death
.”

Kitt stared at Alex uncomprehendingly for a moment before she realized the significance of such a document. “That’s impossible! Blackthorne Hall is entailed.”

“Apparently not,” Alex replied. “From what I see here, the castle can be included in the sale.”

“Carlisle was left destitute. There’s no way he could afford to purchase the land and the castle.”

“Apparently credit may be extended. Read it for yourself,” Alex said, shoving the paper at her and returning to his examination of the desk drawers.

Kitt was feeling very sick to her stomach. Apparently this was the contract Mr. Ambleside had spoken
of outside, the one Blackthorne’s brother refused to act on until the duke’s body was found. What if Carlisle should manage to persuade Lord Marcus to let him take possession before she was able to win back the land in court? Would she still have a case for ownership if the land had been sold to a third party?

Alex interrupted her thoughts when he held up a leather purse and said, “A small stash of coins. This cannot be all the funds Mr. Ambleside has in the house. We will need to go upstairs and search his bedroom.”

“Surely not.” Going upstairs would immensely increase their danger of getting caught.

“Have you another suggestion?” Alex said.

“The bookcase,” she said, pointing at an entire wall of bookshelves.

Alex frowned. “ ’Tis worth a look,” he agreed as he began pulling books out, then shoving them back when he did not find anything concealed within them or behind them.

Kitt dropped the unbelievable contract on the desk where Alex had found it and joined in the search. Her heart was stuck in her throat for the next ten minutes. Every moment it seemed Mr. Ambleside must surely return and they would be caught. But they had to find where he had hidden the duke’s household funds. It would do no good to save Patrick Simpson if she could not help him escape to America with his wife and family.

“Let’s go,” Alex said at last.

“Upstairs?” Kitt said in a faint voice.

“Unless you’re willing to admit failure.”

“We could steal the candelabra,” she said.

“Do you know someone willing and able to buy stolen silver?”

Kitt shook her head.

“Neither do I. Upstairs, my lady. Quickly, before Mr. Ambleside returns.”

The stone staircase was narrow and wound upward precipitously to the second floor. There was no rail to protect one from falling off the edge. Kitt clung to the stone wall with one hand and held out a candle to light the way, as she led them upstairs. They were terribly vulnerable to discovery at this point, and Kitt made herself hurry despite the narrowness of the stairs.

Kitt paused to wait for Alex at the top. Fortunately, Mr. Ambleside was the only one living on the second floor, where the rooms were intended for the duke and his family. The servants slept in rooms above them on the third floor. “Which way?” Kitt asked.

Alex looked from one end of the long hall to the other, then turned to the left. “Follow me.”

Alex walked on tiptoe past the first door and the second. As he did so, a picture flashed in his mind of what was behind the second door. It was disconcerting to say the least. Had he been here before? Did he know the detestable duke? Had they been friends?