Maclean Curse - How To Abduct A Highland Lord Part 24

"if you and Dougalever give Fiona another piece of advice like yesterday's, I will rip your tongues out and feed them to my hunting dogs."

Gregor's irritation faded. "Fiona didn't do anything foolish, did she?"

"You might want to ask your sister what she was doing at Lady Chester's last night."

Gregor stiffened. "She wentwhere ?"

"With Alan Campbell, who took great delight in giving her champagne and rum punch."

"That bast-"

"I took care of him," Jack said shortly.

"And Fiona?"

"I had to toss her over my shoulder, but I managed to get her home."

Good G.o.d. Gregor didn't know what to say.

A sharp clip on the staircase told him his sister was approaching. He looked at Kincaid, whose face was

grim, the deep lines beside his mouth and eyes telling their own tale.

A flash of guilt went through Gregor. Since the beginning of this debacle, he'd been angry. Angry with the Kincaids for Callum's death. Then angry with Fiona for sacrificing herself as if she alone could solve their problems. Angry with Jack for not treating Fiona as he should have. But mainly, Gregor had been angry with himself. He should have been with Callum that night. Should have seen Fiona's plan and stopped it. Should have found a way to set her marriage with Kincaid aside.

And he hadn't done any of it. He'd been a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d, unable to put the needs of others ahead of his own impulsive emotions. And now, because of that and his misdirected sense of humor, his sister had ended up in a gaming h.e.l.l where G.o.d knew what could have happened to her.

"Thank you for watching over my sister, Jack."

Jack's gaze swung up to meet his. "She's my wife, Gregor. I may not be happy about that, but Iwill take care of her."

"I shouldn't have suggested she cross you. I never thought she'd do something unsafe and-"

Jack threw up a hand. "Just don't be so flippant the next time Fiona asks for advice. She's worth more than that."

Fiona's footsteps could be heard on the steps behind Gregor, and he asked Jack, "Would you care to ride with us this afternoon?"

Jack raised his brows. He'd never thought he'd receive an invitation from one of Fiona's brothers. It was a pity to have to reject it. "I'm sorry, but I have a meeting with my man of business. Perhaps tomorrow?"

Gregor nodded, his expression harried. "Very well. I'll see what's to be done with the la.s.s. Perhaps I can talk some sense into her."

"Don't bother. I've already tried, and-"

But Gregor had already left. Even now, his deep voice could be heard booming through the foyer as he welcomed Fiona.

Jack strained to hear her soft reply, but her voice was lost when the front door opened and a strong wind whistled in. In a moment, the wind and the voices disappeared as Fiona left for her morning ride.

It had been a long night, and he'd thought he wanted nothing more than the peace of his own library. But now the silence was screamingly loud.

Jack rose to stir the fire, his gaze drawn to the window. The wind whipped wildly, large clouds rolled by, trees bent and swayed. He found himself standing at the window, looking down as Fiona and Gregor joined Dougal.

She was dressed in the green riding habit that hugged every curve, her hair pinned up beneath her hat, tendrils whipping with the wind. Her face was tilted up as she listened to something Gregor said, her eyes intent on his face, her lips slightly parted.

Jack rubbed a dull ache in his chest. Last night had been horrid. Fiona had refused to speak to him after he'd carried her out of the gaming h.e.l.l, refused to sleep with him when they'd arrived at the house, and, this morning, refused to listen to his attempts to explain his behavior.

She was wrong, d.a.m.n it! She should not have been at a gaming h.e.l.l. Period.

Before long, the two of them had engaged in a witless battle that had culminated in a slammed door and terse good-byes.

Jack leaned against the window frame and watched as Gregor helped Fiona onto her mount, a neatish bay named Ophelia. She was the perfect lady's horse. She was a mite restive if left too long in the stables, but after a brief ride, she calmed and offered a sweet gait.

The horse was full of s.p.u.n.k today, prancing so that the groom had to hold the bridle for Fiona to mount safely.

Jack frowned at the man. What was that groomsman's name? He didn't look familiar; Jack would have to ask Devonsgate about that.

Fiona placed her boot in the stirrup, slid into the saddle, then hooked her knee over the pommel. After she was seated, Gregor turned to his own horse. The groom handed Fiona the reins and stepped back to adjust a strap.

Whether it was the large cart rumbling by or Fiona's skirts blowing in the wind, something startled Ophelia. The horse shied nervously, tossed its head violently, then suddenly reared. Jack watched in horror as Fiona clung to the horse's neck, her hat and whip falling to the ground as she scrambled to hang on. The horse pawed the air, then came down hard.

Jack gripped the window frame, his breath frozen, as Ophelia wheeled and ran madly down the road, Fiona clinging to the horse's mane.

Jack rushed through the foyer and outside. Gregor spurred his horse after Fiona. Jack grabbed Dougal's leg and yanked him to the ground. Jack swung up onto the huge black horse, slammed his boots into the stirrups, and galloped off, leaning low on the horse.

Hehad to catch her, had to save her. Life without Fiona would have no meaning, no flavor. He couldn't accept it. Not now. Not ever.

Leaning close to the horse's neck, Jack began to pray.

Fiona hung on to the horse's mane for dear life as the mare ran madly through the streets of London, dodging carriages and sending other horses bucking in its path.

Fiona was jolted savagely back and forth. If she loosened her grip the slightest bit, she'd go flying and land on her head. If she continued to hang on, her neck would break from the violent jolting. Every time she went up, she came crashing back down. Her bottom was already bruised and sore, and her neck already pained her.

Suddenly, something snapped, and the saddle slid a bit to one side.

With a pop, the saddle let go and Fiona flew into the air.

The moment slowed, stretched, almost stopped. She was flying up and up. Any moment now, she would

begin to fall, and there would be pain. She closed her eyes, reaching out to grab something, anything. But

there was nothing to hold on to.

Miraculously, strong hands grabbed her and pulled her against a broad chest, catching her as simply and easily as if she were an apple falling from a tree. Gasping for breath, she clutched the rocklike man who had saved her.

A low, deep voice growled, "Hold on."

Jack.She clutched at him in relief, and he pulled her close, settling her in his lap. Trembling head to foot, she turned her face into his chest, inhaling deeply. She was beginning to love his scent almost as much as she loved chocolate.

"Are you injured?"

His deep voice rumbled through his chest beneath her ear.

She shook her head, though her entire body ached, and tears filled her eyes.

Jack felt her quake in his arms, saw her tears. His own heart thundering in his ears, he cursed and tightened his grip. "I have you now, Fiona. You are safe."

"She had b.l.o.o.d.y well better be," Gregor said from where he'd come up beside them.

Jack halted his horse, Gregor doing the same, at the entrance to Hyde Park. Carts and carriages, horses and pa.s.sengers milled about, all eyes on them.

Jack couldn't bear to think of what had almost happened-the horse bucking wildly out of control, Fiona hanging on for dear life. If she'd landed on her head- He held her tighter, trying to block the images in his mind.

Dougal rode up on one of Jack's horses, his face white. "Is she all right?"

"I think so," Jack said, feeling her breathing grow steadier.

Gregor stood in his stirrups. "Fiona? Can you hear me?"

"She's shaken, but fine otherwise."

"Are you certain?" Dougal reached for Fiona as if to take her from Jack.

Jack bared his teeth and backed his horse away. She washis, and he would die fighting to keep her.

The power of his reaction startled him. Was it because she was his wife? Because he was the only man who'd ever known her intimately? Or just his misguided, possessive Kincaid blood? Whatever it was, Jack only knew that right now, if anyone tried to remove Fiona from his arms, he would kill him without thought.

Dougal stayed back, but looked at him suspiciously. "You put my sister on an unsafe mount."

"I did not. Ophelia is never difficult. Look at her now."

The horse stood beside the entryway to the park, its saddle hanging off one side as it peacefully grazed.

"Then you did something to make the horse act that way," Dougal said hotly.

"Pshaw!" Gregor said. "Fiona has been riding lively mounts since she was four. She's no tender flower."

"I still think something was wrong," Dougal said.

"Then you'll have something to mull while you collect the mare and her saddle," Jack snapped. "I'm taking Fiona home."

With a dark glance, Dougal swung down from his horse and tossed the reins to Gregor. He walked carefully up to Ophelia and took the reins without a problem. He started to lift the saddle, then stopped, and bent to stare at something.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

Dougal's brow lowered. "There is a burr under the saddle."

"d.a.m.nation!" Gregor swung down, tied the horses to a low branch, and joined his brother. They spoke in low tones, occasionally glancing back at Jack.

"I want to see it," Jack said sharply.

Gregor stepped back. "Let him see."

"It isn't really a burr." Dougal held up the cause of the accident. "It's a thistle. And there's more: someone cut the girth."

Jack looked down at Fiona, still pale. "I will kill whoever did this."

Dougal met Jack's gaze. "Was it you? You've said many times that you did not wish to be married."

"No, d.a.m.n it! I've never wished Fiona harm."

Gregor said, "Dougal, why would Kincaid put a burr beneath her saddle and then save her as well? That makes no sense."

Fiona stirred. "Please, no more. I-I just want to go home."

Jack led the way, his mind whirling. Who would wish Fiona harm?

He could not see Lucinda going to such lengths. She would get her vengeance on Fiona, but in a more

public manner. Maybe Campbell? There was something about him that Jack did not trust. He seemed far

too interested in Fiona. What did he want? What would he gain by Fiona's death? He rested his cheek against her forehead, then looked at her brothers. "If someone wants her harmed, we must go where she'll be safe."