Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (14 page)

“My parents are dead, too,” Jonah offered, though of course MacKinloch already knew that. “They drowned.” He hardly remembered what had happened that day, for the memory was blurred, almost as if it had happened to someone else. And yet, he offered the remark, hoping that MacKinloch would tell him more of his plans. “Who will you visit?”

The man remained silent, but his hand moved to the pistol he’d taken from Jonah. “Don’t be worried about that, lad. I won’t be leaving ye alone until we’ve found Cain.”

Perhaps that was meant to make him feel better, but it would be worse for him if they actually
did
find his older brother. Cain treated him as if he were four instead of four-and-ten. But all of it would change, once he began earning money for himself.

Jonah would steal again, if he had to. His fingers were light, and it couldn’t be that difficult to cut a reticule from a rich woman or lift valuables from a waistcoat. If he couldn’t find work, he’d do what he had to in order to survive.

But his stomach churned at the thought. Unbidden came the sudden image of his mother’s face, her eyes staring at him with disapproval.

She won’t ever ken what you’re doing
, he told himself.

And yet, he couldn’t let go of the sense that he was traveling down a path from which there was no return. He was torn by the thought of his brother finding him.

Or worse, if he didn’t see Cain again.

Margaret had never considered herself a violent sort. Yet, the moment she set eyes upon Lord Lisford, her temper erupted. He deserved to bleed for what he’d done to Amelia. Heedless of her long skirts, she barreled forward until she crashed into him.

“I say, what—” His words broke off when he saw her. The moment he recognized her face, the viscount went deathly white.

Good. He had many reasons to be afraid, the least of which was being beaten senseless by Cain. That is, if she didn’t wallop him first.

It didn’t seem that Cain was going to let her, for he’d emerged from the stable and was approaching both of them. “Are you wanting my assistance, lass?”

“Only if this blackguard tries to run.” Margaret gripped Lisford with her left hand to prevent him from going anywhere. Her right arm was throbbing from when she’d collided with him. “Where is my sister?”

The viscount cleared his throat. “Sh-she’s in London.” He risked a glance at Cain, who had cut off his escape from the opposite side.

Lisford tried to extricate himself from her grasp, but Margaret hung on. He wasn’t going anywhere—not until she knew precisely what had happened. And if he was alone this close to Scotland, it was possible that he’d gotten away with his misdeeds.

Not anymore. Her hand curled into a fist, and she struck him hard across his nose. Lisford winced with pain, and Margaret felt a primal sense of satisfaction.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded, raising his hands to fend her off.

Was he that daft?

“For stealing Amelia away in the middle of the night and trying to ruin her.” Never before had Margaret felt such a rage. Not only because of what he’d done to her sister, but also for the way he’d left her behind only days before her wedding. Thank goodness she hadn’t married him.

“I ought to cut your heart out with a spoon,” Margaret said to Lisford. “You deserve far more than a broken nose.” He was a man who took advantage of innocent women, and he ought to be hung, drawn, and quartered for what he’d done to Amelia and herself.

Cain’s shoulders were shaking, and she strongly suspected he was laughing at her. Laughing! How did he dare?

With great effort, she forced herself to lower her fists. “Let us begin again,” she said, trying to feign a calmness she didn’t feel. “I want to know exactly what happened that night.”

“I’ve no wish to harm a lady, Miss Andrews. But I must ask that you back away and let go of me.” Lisford’s voice was steady, despite the blood trickling from his nose.

“Not until I know what you’ve done with my sister.” She gripped his cravat with one hand, to prevent him from leaving.

“She is safe. I promise you that.” He wiped his nose with a handkerchief.

“And how do I know you’re telling the truth?” Margaret demanded. “You tried to ruin her with your idiotic scheme to marry her. My sweet sister, who never did anything wrong.”

He tried to step back, but Sinclair crossed his arms as if to assure her that the viscount was going nowhere. “Go on, then, Lisford. I’d like to be hearing what you have to say about this.” The Highlander gestured for him to continue.

“I thought she would see it as a grand romantic gesture,” the viscount confessed. “I was wrong, and she’s now safely back with her family, I assume.”

“You assume?”

“Lord Castledon took her back.” His face reddened, and he winced at his swollen nose. “I, ah, was asked to spend time away from London. I have a country estate not far from here.”

Margaret frowned. “I thought your estate was in Wales.”

He faltered again. “It was. I mean, it is. There’s another property that requires my attention. It’s . . . well, it’s in need of some work.” His gaze passed back to Mr. Sinclair. “What brings you north with
him
?”

“I thought I’d bring him along to kill you when we found Amelia,” Margaret lied. She curled her left hand into a fist. “That could still be arranged.”

Lisford’s face was the color of chalk, and she added, “How do I know she isn’t still with you?”

“She isn’t. I swear to you both, I let her go.” The viscount wiped again at his bleeding nose with a handkerchief. “I knew she wouldn’t come with me willingly, but I thought she would change her mind once she realized how badly I wanted to wed her. I thought she would love the adventure of an elopement.”

Fury boiled inside her as Margaret confronted the man. “You never deserved a woman like Amelia.”

He didn’t deny it, but he said only, “It was a misunderstanding. And I, ah, I won’t be visiting London for some time.”

“You’re despicable,” Margaret told him. “I hope to never lay eyes on you again, after what you did to me. Us,” she amended. For so long, she had suppressed her anger, telling herself that to unleash it would not change anything. She had tried to begin again, but the truth was, no gentlemen were interested in her after that. They assumed that if Lisford had cried off, she was somehow to blame. And oh, it was impossible to swallow.

Years of dark anger came roaring out. “I wish I’d never agreed to marry you.”

The viscount tugged at his cravat. “Our betrothal was never real. Surely you knew that.” He looked embarrassed and cast a look back at Sinclair. “It was nothing but a wager, and I’m only sorry I let it go too far.”

“Because of you, no man wanted to marry me.” Margaret glared at him. “My good name was ruined, though I never did anything wrong.”

“No,” the viscount said softly. “You pushed anyone else away. It was your own bitterness that caused men to avoid you.” He took a step backward, and his silent retribution struck her down. “And now, you’ve brought on your own ruin, by traveling with this lout.”

Margaret stood motionless, for there was truth in his words. Even so, she would not allow him to speak against Cain. “This ‘lout,’ as you call him, is a trusted friend. He protected me on my journey. And if you’ll recall, last month he defeated you in a boxing match.”

Lord Lisford acted as if she hadn’t spoken, though she knew he well remembered his swift defeat. He had wagered that he would win the fight, and Cain had volunteered to be his opponent.

The Highlander had beaten him into the ground. And he’d done it for her.

She met Cain’s gaze, and his narrowed expression toward the viscount suggested that he would gladly fight again.

But Lord Lisford was already backing away. “I should be going now. Be assured, I will not trouble your sister or your family any longer. I intend to continue my travels.” The viscount bowed and hastily made a departure.

Before he could leave, Cain caught him by the arm. He gripped the man hard, reminding him that his strength was far greater. “If you’re no’ telling the truth, I will hunt you down. You’ll wear your entrails as a necklace, Lisford.”

Though it was a gruesome prospect, Margaret couldn’t help but be grateful to Cain for intimidating the man. But it startled her when he continued. “I think you should be apologizing to Miss Andrews,” he said. “No’ only for what you did to her sister, but also to her.”

Lisford hesitated and took another step backward. There was more fear on his face than regret, but he did relent, saying, “My apologies, Miss Andrews.” Eyeing Sinclair, he added, “I suppose you’ll be happier having a man to reform than one who is already respectable. And the ton will be surprised at your choice.”

His words felt like a blow to the stomach. She knew that her decision to find Amelia would have repercussions, but she hadn’t considered that Lord Lisford would spread rumors and idle gossip. She should have known better—he would do anything to bring attention to himself, even if that meant bringing her down even further.

Sinclair’s fist struck the viscount hard across the jaw, and the man crumpled. Lisford’s hands curled against the mud, and he remained on his knees.

“Don’t say a word against her.” The Highlander withdrew the dirk from his waist and jerked the man up, pressing the blade to the viscount’s chin. “If I cut out your tongue, you willna be able to spread lies about Miss Andrews. ’Twould no’ be hard.”

“Please,” the man whispered. He was trembling violently, and from the dark look on Sinclair’s face, Margaret wondered if he was considering it. Her own thirst for blood had abated, and she didn’t doubt that Lisford was terrified of the Highlander.

“Please what?” Cain taunted. “Please cut out your tongue to prevent you from speaking? Or did you mean that you’ll ne’er speak a single word against Miss Andrews or any of her family?”

“Yes,” the viscount blurted out. “I won’t talk. I promise. Ever.”

Sinclair turned back to her, as if waiting for an answer. There was no trace of mercy in his eyes, and for the first time, she wondered precisely what the man was capable of. He appeared furious with the viscount. “I could nick the tip of his tongue, as a reminder, if you think that would help, Miss Andrews.”

No, she wouldn’t go that far. “Let him go, Mr. Sinclair. I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”

He kept the knife close to the viscount’s mouth. “Oh, I’ll be letting him go. But know this, Lisford—” He jerked the man’s head backward. “If you do anything foolish, I’ll ken what you’ve done. And you’ll regret it.”

He pulled back the knife, and Margaret breathed a sigh of relief. It was then that she noticed a small group of people had gathered around. They appeared uneasy by what they’d witnessed. “Go,” Cain ordered. To Margaret he added, “Gather your things. We’re leaving now.”

Margaret didn’t argue, but retreated into the stable. She’d never seen this side to him, so cold-blooded and violent.

But oh, it felt good to have her vengeance against Lisford. Her fist was sore, but she’d never felt such a rush of satisfaction, punching a man. It was unladylike . . . and glorious.

When he returned, Cain spoke not a word to her but seized the mare by the reins and lifted Margaret onto the horse. There was tension in every part of him, in the way he swung up behind her, and in the way he gripped her waist. He urged their mount onward, taking them north.

They rode swiftly, and Margaret leaned back into him. Her mind was spinning off with both exhilaration and worry. She ought to be ashamed of herself and feel awful about the way others would gossip about her misdeeds.

And yet, she couldn’t quite be sorry for it. She had faced that horrid worm of a man and now she understood why men fought. There was something quite satisfying about facing one’s nemesis and bringing him down.

True, she still had to be concerned about what everyone would say about her being alone with Cain Sinclair all these weeks. But strangely, it was too easy to put the matter aside and let it be for now. She would handle those consequences later.

She murmured to Sinclair, “Thank you for allowing me to face Lisford. I know it’s inappropriate, but I rather enjoyed hitting him.” She smiled at him, feeling her mood strangely lightened by the violence. Beneath her, the skirts were twisted, and she attempted to straighten them. Her hands brushed against Cain’s inner thighs, and he jolted at the touch.

“Easy, lass.”

“I’m sorry.” But she was in such a jubilant mood, she hardly cared. “On days like today, I envy you. Men have so much freedom. You never have to obey rules about proper behavior, and if you’re angry, you can tear a man apart.”

She waited for him to agree with her, but instead, Cain said, “Women have power too, lass. In their own way.”

She didn’t believe that. “Hardly. From the moment I was born, my mother taught me how to speak, how to dress. I was expected to marry a lord and be a respectable wife. There were hardly any choices at all for me. And you saw how it turned out with Lisford.” She shuddered. “What a horrible, cowardly man he was.”

“But you agreed to marry him when he asked you,” he pointed out.