Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (36 page)

He pulled her tightly against him, as if he could merge her body into his. “I would do the same for you.” He stole a taste of her lips, kissing her softly. “If I had to go to the gallows for a single night with you, I’d gladly go, lass.”

Margaret stood on tiptoe, her hands moving over him. His arousal was painful as she drew his hips to hers. He was nestled against her, and the gentle pressure of her body set his senses on fire.

“I will not let you sacrifice yourself,” Margaret insisted. “Not for anyone.”

The flare of anger in her eyes made it clear that she intended to fight for him. “What do you plan to do?”

She touched his face with her hands, and he slid his hands to her bottom. The rush of desire made him inhale sharply. She knew exactly how to arouse him, driving him toward madness.

Before he could steal another kiss, she pulled back. “Have faith in me, Cain. I’ll make sure your brother gets a fair trial.”

She was talking about witnesses and hiring investigators, and before he realized what was happening, she opened a writing desk and took out a piece of paper. She dipped a quill into ink and began scribbling out a list of men’s names.

“Take this and ask if any of these folk have seen MacKinloch. We will find him, if we have to turn over every stone in Scotland.” He had no time to react before she shoved it into his palm. Her clever mind was working quickly, and he saw her brow furrow.

“What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head, crossing the room. “Just a strange thought I had. It doesn’t matter. I’ll have the investigators look into it, and that will determine if it’s even possible.”

Before he could stop her, she threw open the parlor doors and ordered one of the servants to bring the carriage around.

“Where are you going?”

“We are going to put an end to this. We will retrace your brother’s footsteps and do all that we must to find MacKinloch.” She straightened her bonnet and adjusted one of her white gloves. “Now do you want to come, or do you intend to begin planning your funeral?”

Cain leaned in and kissed her lightly, not caring that any of the servants might see. “You aren’t afraid of anything, are you?”

“To the contrary,” she said, meeting his gaze evenly. “There is something that terrifies me. And I will not allow you to make that sacrifice.”

Margaret was as good as her word. The thought of losing Cain was unthinkable, and she was scared to death that he would make a confession to save his brother’s life. She hadn’t slept at all last night, and it was only now that she realized how much she loved him. This man had come to mean everything to her—and she would not rest until she had saved them both.

After she and Cain traveled back to the town where Jonah had been arrested, she spoke with as many people as she could. They eyed her strangely, and she could only suppose it was because they found it unusual for a lady to be asking questions.

The coroner was even more reluctant to speak with her. “This isna meant for a young lady’s ears,” he argued. “I’ve already given my testimony on the means of the earl’s death.”

Margaret softened her tone and pressed Cain behind her. “Sir, I know you have a very difficult task, one that few men are strong enough to endure.”

The coroner nodded, “It is indeed most trying. But I’ve a strong stomach for wha’ would make most men sick.”

“And I am certain there is no one better,” she soothed. This man was a proud one, and she chose her words carefully. “We want justice as much as anyone. Perhaps more so.”

She lowered her gaze, feigning a demure personality. “I’ve only one question for you, sir, and then we’ll be on our way.”

“What is it, then?” He wasn’t at all eager to be helpful.

“When the earl was shot, was it a direct shot or did the bullet enter at an angle?”

The coroner frowned at that. “What does it matter? The man’s dead. The boy who shot him blew his brains out.”

“At such a close range, wouldn’t you agree that it would be easy to tell where the exit wound was?”

“At that range, the head was nearly blown apart.” He shook his head and opened the door. “I’ll have to ask you both to leave.”

“One moment, sir.” Margaret paused at the door. “If the bullet wound went straight across, then that would suggest that the man who killed the earl was nearly the same height. An angle would mean that the shooter was far shorter.”

His expression held wariness, and he shook his head. “Not necessarily. Good day to you both.”

And with that, the door was closed in their faces. Cain took her hand and led her away. There was a glint in his eyes that she didn’t quite understand. He was hurrying toward the coach, and when he gave directions to the driver, she understood that they were going toward the place where the earl had been shot.

But the moment Cain closed the door, he hauled her to him and kissed her hard. She didn’t know what had prompted it, but the moment his mouth claimed hers, she opened to him. His tongue slid inside her mouth and she met his kiss with her own.

It was a last, desperate need to show him that she would never turn away from him. Time was running out, and she intended to stand by this man, no matter what happened.

His hand cupped her breast, and he murmured against her ear, “I want to take this gown off you, lass. And I want to taste every inch of your skin.” His words sent a jolt of heat between her legs, and she straddled his lap. Amid the tangle of her skirts, she felt his hard length.

“No matter what happens, I need you to stay with me,” she pleaded. “Don’t give up until we have the answers we need. We’ll find the man who did this and bring him to justice.”

His hands moved beneath her hem, stroking her stockings. Higher still he moved, and she let out a gasp when he pressed his palm against her intimate opening.

“You’re an intelligent woman, Margaret Andrews,” he said against her mouth, kissing her again. “I wouldna have thought to ask about the bullet.”

His fingers rubbed against her folds, and she grew utterly wet. “I—I had to ask. Jonah is so much shorter and—” She couldn’t speak another word, for he was stroking her in a way that made it impossible to grasp a coherent thought.

“And what?” he prompted, never ceasing his torment. She went pliant against him, her breathing shifting as he pleasured her.

“I don’t know. I can’t think whilst you’re touching me.”

He withdrew his hand and she wanted to moan with frustration. But then, the coach had come to a stop. They were here.

Although her body was quaking with unfulfilled desire, she forced herself to settle down. There might have been something the authorities missed that night, and she wanted to believe that they would be able to trace MacKinloch.

“Lass.” Cain caught her hand and pulled her back a moment. “Thank you for being here. And for what you’ve done.” He kissed her softly, and the touch brought the taste of regret to her lips.

If they didn’t find the evidence they needed, he would surrender himself and either disappear or die. She would not see him again, and the thought made her angrier than she’d ever imagined.

“Don’t give up. Not on Jonah and not on us,” she warned.

Cain released her hand and she stepped outside, not waiting for him. She didn’t know what she hoped to find. Something. Anything that might save the life of a young boy and the man she loved.

The evening air was cool, the sun low in the sky. She trudged through the grasses where they had found Strathland’s body. One area was flattened with darker stains. “I think this was where he was shot,” Cain guessed.

Margaret stood, turning in a circle, trying to imagine how it had happened. The coach had stopped on the road, and Strathland had disembarked. Moments later, he’d been shot in the head and left behind.

“Look for hoof prints in the grass,” she ordered. “Or footprints. We need to know how the murderer traveled here.”

They walked through the area, searching every inch of ground. At one point, Cain was on his hands and knees, examining the dirt. As she joined him, her gaze fell upon the wheel ruts upon the road from Strathland’s coach.

“Do you see those?” she asked, pointing to the ruts. “It looks like there was another coach there that night.”

“Aye.” He shrugged, as if it meant nothing. “But it’s a public road, lass. Anyone could have traveled this way.”

“These tracks run over Strathland’s.” She studied them closely, wondering whether there was any meaning in them at all. “And how many coaches travel on this road? Not many, I’d say.”

He shook his head. “There’s no way to tell, lass. And it doesna seem that there’s anything else here for us.”

Margaret let out a sigh. “I feared as much. But I thought we should look.” She held out her hand to help him up, but he remained down on one knee.

Cain held her hand while he looked up at her. “It was always like this, you ken?” He stroked her gloved hand, a twisted smile on his face. “You were far above where I dared to reach.”

Margaret knelt down, bringing herself to his level. “There’s no difference between us now, is there?”

“Only because I’ve brought you down. It was ne’er where you were meant to be. I led you into your own ruin.”

“No.” She braved a smile. “This is where I want to be, Cain. Right here, with you.” She kissed him and took both of his hands, guiding him to stand beside her.

“For now,” he agreed. The words left their mark of fear within her. She sensed she had to hold fast to these moments between them.

For they might be the last memories she’d have of this man.

It had been a long day of searching. Cain brought Margaret home, and both of them were exhausted. Her hair was knotted back beneath her bonnet, the strings resting against her throat. He held her hand and was grateful for her presence. Though he’d never wanted her to be caught up in this trial, each day with her was a gift. She gave him strength, even in the darkest of days.

They walked inside the house, and the butler informed him, “Mr. Sinclair, you have a caller. Mr. MacKinloch is waiting in the parlor.”

MacKinloch was here? Did the man have a death wish? The man responsible for the earl’s death had the gall to arrive at Falsham as if he had a right to be here?

Cain bit back the curses he wanted to utter and thanked the butler, following him to the parlor.

“I don’t want you here while I question him,” he began, but Margaret would have none of it.

She raised her hand to cut him off and declared, “You won’t stop me, Sinclair. We will speak with him together, and that’s final. Joseph was our family’s footman for many years, if you recall.”

There was war brewing in her eyes, and she stepped in front of him. “We’re going to need his testimony. So don’t you dare kill him.”

“If he murdered Strathland and let my brother take the blame, he’ll answer for it, Margaret.” Cain wasn’t about to allow the man to escape his fate, and he was convinced that Joseph MacKinloch had committed the crime. No doubt the man wanted vengeance, after Strathland and his men had raped and killed his sister. Who could blame MacKinloch for wanting the earl’s death?

But not at the cost of Jonah’s life.

When they opened the door, MacKinloch was seated in a chair, holding a cup of tea. Seeing him sitting there so calmly made Cain want to seize the man and let the cup shatter. Instead, he gripped Margaret’s hand to gain control from her.

“Joseph,” she began. “We have been searching for you for some time now.”

He set down the cup and stood. “So I understand.” He spread his hands out slightly. “I am here. What do ye want from me?”

“I want you to confess what you did. Jonah’s been suffering in the Tolbooth for weeks now.” Cain’s fingers clenched into a fist and it was only Margaret’s presence that kept him from beating MacKinloch into a bloody heap.

The man stared back at Cain. “My sister endured a far worse fate than yer brother. I’m glad the earl’s dead, for the bastard deserved it.” He crossed his arms and regarded Cain. “But I’m no’ the man yer looking for. I did naught to Strathland.”

Liar. He’d been there that night and had taken Jonah’s pistol. “I don’t believe you.”

“Please sit down, Joseph,” Margaret bade him. “I want to discuss a proposition with you. One that will suit all of us.”