Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (13 page)

Nor had he. This was one of those days when he cursed himself for possessing a shred of honor. Aye, he’d kissed her many times, but it had always been wickedness on his part. Leading the good girl down the pathway to sin, that was what he’d done.

But if he’d given her more kisses last night, he wouldn’t have stopped there. He’d have unbuttoned her gown, kissing the bare skin revealed by each button. He’d have touched her until she was pleading for more. She knew just how to push him to the edge, and she’d haunted him for years now.

Given a single chance, he’d have—

“Mr. Sinclair?” came her voice from below. “Are you awake?”

Awake, aye, and craving the touch of her. But he cursed the thought away and answered her. “I am.” He swung down to the ladder and climbed down from the loft.

Margaret stood against one of the horse stalls, waiting for him. Her white gloves appeared pristine, despite the stable filth. Her hair was tucked up in a neat chignon, but her eyes were shadowed, as if she’d not slept at all.

“Good morning to you,” she began. Her voice held a no-nonsense tone that reminded him of a governess. “I want to continue our journey as soon as possible.”

He studied her a moment and asked, “How are you feeling?” After the wine she’d drunk last night, it wouldn’t surprise him if she was feeling poorly.

“I’ve a headache, if you must know. But it will pass.”

“You should eat,” he advised her. “ ’Twill settle the sickness in your stomach, lass.”

She winced. “No, food doesn’t sound very appetizing at the moment.” Steeling herself, she added, “The basket is over there. Eat what you wish, and I’ll wait for you.”

She went to stand by the door, and he noticed the way she closed her eyes against the light.

“Eat something before we leave,” Cain ordered, “and I’ll prepare the horse.”

He brought their mare out from the stall, fastening the animal’s bridle. He’d given the farmer payment for feed and water for the mare, but he’d been telling the truth when he’d admitted to the apothecary that they hadn’t enough money to pay for the journey to Scotland.

He no longer cared. Traveling on horseback with Margaret was far more interesting.

She picked at the food while he readied the horse. “How is your back this morning? Should I put more of the salve on it?”

“You can do that at night,” he said. It had been torment with her hands upon him, not only because of the pain, but also because of her proximity. He desired her deeply, and having her touch him only reminded him of what he couldn’t have.

Margaret packed up the basket of supplies and straightened her posture. “I am ready to leave whenever you think it’s best.”

But as soon as she’d spoken the words, a cold gust of wind blew through the doorway, causing her to shiver. Cain walked past her and glanced upward. Once again, the skies were clouded with the threat of rain. She wasn’t ready to leave—not dressed as she was. After all the weeks she’d spent caring for him, she needed proper traveling attire.

“No’ yet,” he told her. “There’s something I must do first.”

She started to ask questions, but he only said, “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.” He wanted to see if any of the women had a warm woolen gown they could sell. He believed there were enough coins for that.

“Are you planning to rent another horse?” She suddenly started after him. “Or ask about a coach, even?”

“Just stay here.” He didn’t want to spoil the gift.

“I’ll go with you,” Margaret insisted, walking beside him. Cain stopped immediately and turned to her.

“Nay, lass. I said to stay here, and that you’ll do.”

“Why? Don’t you think I’d rather—”

“I don’t care what it is you’re wanting. You’ll stay here and be surprised at what I’m hoping to give you.” He’d nearly snapped at her, but honestly, the woman was far too stubborn.

She looked utterly bewildered by what he’d said. “You don’t have to give me anything, Mr. Sinclair.”

He took her by the shoulders and gently turned her to face the barn. “Go back and wait.”

This time, she obeyed. When she risked a glance back at him, he nodded and pointed to the barn. Let her believe what she wanted. There were many days of traveling ahead of them, and she would grow colder, the farther north they rode.

He walked toward the center of the village, hoping to find someone he could ask. There was a younger woman, near Margaret’s size, who agreed to sell him a simple long-sleeved gown. He sent her back with a few coins, asking her to help Margaret change, and the woman was happy to agree.

Before he could follow, he spied a landau near the edge of the houses. Now what was such a coach doing here? It was too fine a vehicle for any of the village folk, and he hastened his step to reach it.

The moment he saw Viscount Lisford’s crest, he wanted to curse. Cain waited a moment to see if anyone was watching, and he quickly opened the door to the landau. No one was inside.

But Cain fully intended to find out exactly what had happened to Margaret’s sister.

“Mrs. Sinclair?” came a young woman’s voice.

Margaret turned around and saw a girl standing there, one not much older than herself. “Yes?” she answered.

“Your husband sent me to help you get dressed. He said you needed a new gown?” The young woman held out a dark green bundle of wool. Had she handed Margaret a thousand pounds, she could not have been more surprised.

She accepted the bundle and unfolded it to reveal a simple, unadorned gown that was the color of pine needles. It had long sleeves and buttoned in the front. Not the gown a lady would wear, but it was sensible enough that she could dress herself. Cheered by it, she asked, “Did he send you to help me change my gown?”

“Yes, he did,” the girl said. “And when he told me you were wearing a ball gown, I knew you would not be able to undress yourself.”

It wasn’t entirely true. During the time she’d spent at Wickersham, she had traded with the vicar’s wife for a corset she could fasten by herself. She’d worn the ball gown day and night, since there was no other choice, but at least she could breathe easier when she slept.

“Did my husband already give you enough coins to pay for it?” she asked.

“He gave me enough,” the young woman said. “If you’ll turn around, I’ll help you change. There’s also a cloak.”

She unbuttoned Margaret’s gown, leaving the corset and chemise while she lifted the old gown away.

The new gown was slightly loose, but Margaret hardly cared. The wool would keep her warm, and she would no longer feel so exposed at her shoulders. Last, she fastened the cloak around her, and she smiled. It didn’t matter that she was dressed like a village girl—she was comfortable for the first time in days.

“Better?” the young woman asked, tucking a stray pin into her chignon.

“Much.” Margaret smiled at the girl. “I’m so grateful to you. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“I was glad to help. Men don’t realize how difficult it is to get dressed in a formal gown.” With an answering smile, the girl departed.

Margaret tucked away the remnants of the old gown, not knowing if they could be salvaged. She waited for half an hour, and finally Sinclair arrived. His gaze passed over her, and he nodded with approval. “I see you got the gown and cloak I sent. They aren’t new, but at least you willna be cold when we travel.”

She sent him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Mr. Sinclair.”

Though he acknowledged her thanks by lowering his head, the look in his eyes held her motionless. His blue eyes were studying her as if he wanted so much more from her. And the dress seemed to remove another boundary between them.

She took a breath and asked, “Are you ready to go?”

He hesitated. “Nearly.”

Something was wrong. She could see it in the tightness around his eyes, in his barely-contained frustration. “What is it?”

Cain crossed his arms. “There’s someone here whom you’ve been wanting to see. Someone you’ve been searching for.”

Margaret’s heart pounded, and she hurried toward the door. “Is it Amelia? Have we found them?”

“No’ exactly,” Sinclair answered. “Lord Lisford is here.”

Chapter Six

H
aving an adventure wasn’t what Jonah had thought it would be. It had been several days since they’d traveled across the Highlands, moving southeast. MacKinloch had led the way, and Jonah was beginning to realize how unprepared he’d been for such a journey.

It had rained endlessly, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been dry. Even at night when they stopped to make camp, he’d shivered beneath the tent MacKinloch had set up.

“Have ye changed your mind about going to London?” the man asked. “If ye’d rather turn back, just follow the road back toward Ballaloch.”

Jonah wanted to. His feet were covered in blisters from his thin-soled shoes, and he was hungrier than he could remember. After several days of searching, he’d not found any of Cain’s money. He’d searched everywhere, even digging near some standing stones, but he’d found nothing at all. He’d given MacKinloch the only thing of value he owned—a pistol that had belonged to his father. Cain would be furious when he learned of it, but Jonah supposed he could buy it back.

“Well, lad?” MacKinloch prodded.

“I’ll keep going.” He wanted to prove to himself that he was as strong as his brother. Why, if he could make this journey once, he could go back again. And perhaps he could get work delivering things between England and Scotland, like his brother. He wanted people to look up to him, the way they respected Cain.

“ ’Twill take a fortnight at least,” MacKinloch told him. “Longer, until we can get horses.” His gaze narrowed upon Jonah. “Are ye certain your brother had no coins in safekeeping? How was he expecting ye to pay for aught?”

Jonah said nothing about the few coins he’d saved. He might need them in case MacKinloch abandoned him.

“Cain left me food,” he told the man. “And he said I wouldna need anything else.” Which was true, since he had potatoes and grain for gruel. He caught fish in the loch, and sometimes he traded them for bread or stew. Mrs. Larson had brought him a pudding on a rare occasion, but mostly if he wanted something, he had to steal it.

He’d stolen a lot from Lord Strathland over the years. His friends had showed him how to slip inside the large manor house and take food or small valuables no one would miss. A pair of shoes or a linen handkerchief. Things an earl wouldn’t notice.

His stomach had twisted with guilt, but after a time, he’d dulled himself to it. Because of the earl, he and his brother had lost their home. Lord Strathland had also been merciless to their friends and neighbors, using his influence with the authorities to bring down anyone who opposed him.

Paul Fraser was Cain’s best friend, and he loathed the earl more than anyone. Not only because Strathland had ordered his father’s hanging, but also because the man had held an interest in Juliette Andrews, the woman Fraser had loved for years. It was Cain who had stopped Fraser from killing the man.

Jonah had sometimes stayed up late, eavesdropping on them at night.

“He has his eye on Juliette. I swear to God, if Strathland dares to bother her, I’ll—”

“Juliette doesna like him,” Cain had said. “You’ve naught to fear, Fraser.”

But something
had
happened to Juliette Andrews, though Jonah had never learned what it was. Cain had spent several nights drinking heavily. The shadow of the earl’s deeds hung over all of them, even though the man was now locked away in an asylum.

No one had forgotten the death and madness. Jonah shivered at the thought. And now he was on his way to London, where the earl happened to be locked away.

He trudged behind MacKinloch, feeling as if his legs were going to drop off at any moment. He took a drink from his flask of water and reminded himself that this was his way out of Ballaloch. Even if his feet were raw and bloody in another day or two, it was better than the alternative.

“We’ll have to find a horse and a wagon,” the Highlander said. “Your brother will owe me for yer share, once we reach London.”

“I’ve given you the pistol,” Jonah said. “That should be enough.”

“The pistol’s no’ worth the cost of taking ye with me. I’ll be needing more.” Again, the threatening tone in MacKinloch’s voice made Jonah uneasy. He wouldn’t abandon him out here alone, would he?

“My brother will pay you,” Jonah promised, though it wasn’t true at all. He didn’t actually know
where
Cain was, but by the time MacKinloch learned the truth, he hoped it would be too late. There were a thousand places he could disappear to, in the middle of the city.

“What will you do when you reach London?” Jonah asked. The Highlander had dwelled in Ballaloch for many years, until his sister had died. No one would tell him what had happened to the girl, but Jonah knew Strathland had been involved somehow. It was why MacKinloch loathed the earl.

“Well, lad, there’s someone I’ve been meaning to visit,” he said.

“Family?” Jonah ventured.

But the man’s eyes held a dangerous glint. “Nay, I’ve no family left.”