Maclean Curse - How To Abduct A Highland Lord Part 25

"Jack, I cannot stay behind locked doors," Fiona protested. "I am sure there is an explanation, and-" "No, Fiona," Gregor said. "Do as Kincaid says." Identical shocked expressions crossed Jack's and Dougal's faces. Fiona scowled. "I am not going to be locked away like a porcelain teacup." "We must find a safe place for you to stay until we find out what's going on." When they reached Kincaid House, Jack told the groom, "Find Mrs. Tarlington. Tell her to attend her ladyship in our bedchamber." Jack handed Fiona down to John the footman, swung down himself, and reclaimed Fiona. "John, see that her ladyship's saddle is put in my library. I want to examine it in better light."

Then he carried her up to their room. He tucked her into bed, frowning when she caught her breath as he slid her between the sheets.

Within the half hour, the doctor arrived and prescribed a daily hot soak in a tub with special liniment.

Fiona hated the liniment, which smelled like rotten potatoes, but Jack insisted she use it. He also allowed her to sit in the library afterward and drink her tea, which was a blessing.

Jack watched her every move with dark eyes. Twice she asked him what he was thinking, and twice he didn't answer, pacing the room silently.

Finally, she set down her teacup with a clink and said, "Jack, will youplease sit down?"

He turned a surprised face to her. "I didn't mean to annoy you. I'm just a bit out of sorts."

"We both are." She gave him a wry smile and pressed a hand to her stomach. "You are making me seasick with all that pacing."

"I'm sorry," he said ruefully. He opened his mouth, stopped, then burst out, "Fiona, I hated our argument last night. I don't want you to think that I wish you harm. I would gladly have taken that fall myself rather than see you suffer."

Her heart leapt. "Why...why do you feel that way?"

His gaze raked across her, hot and possessive. "You are my wife."

The words were a branding. She found herself looking at him, too. Her husband. At the broad expanse of his shoulders. At the muscled length of his thighs and- She looked away, her cheeks hot. That cursed liniment made her thoughts run smoky and hot. She slid her hands into the pockets of her day gown, wishing she had something to keep her mind off her husband 's far too attractive thighs.

"Fiona, while the doctor was with you, I looked at the saddle. The strap was cut in two and then bound to look as if it was intact. I think we should leave London."

"What?"

"Aye. We've been invited to a wedding in Scotland, so we could go there for a sennight. It's near your home, so you could see your brothers, too."

She made a face. "I have seen more than enough of Dougal and Gregor."

Jack smiled grimly. "So have I."

"Jack, they don't blame you, do they?"

"They might. Dougal mentioned several times that I gave you that horse."

"You've also given me clothes. I suppose if I am found strangled with one of my own stockings, he will think that a clue, too."

Jack didn't laugh.

She sighed.

"Fiona, I don't relish the thought of going to this wedding, but it's a valid reason to leave town."

She rubbed her shoulder, where a dull ache burned. "I cannot think who might want me gone. Do you think it was Lucinda? Because I embarra.s.sed her?"

"No, but it might be Campbell." Jack raked a hand through his hair. "There is something about him that I don't trust."

"Why would he do such a thing?"

"I don't know. Yet." Jack came to a halt in front of her. "Fiona, Scotland will be safer for us."

"I know. It's just..." She threaded her fingers together, fighting to hide a wince. She was getting more stiff and sore by the minute.

There was no disguising the concern in Jack's eyes. Just a short hour ago, they had been arguing fiercely. Now, they were shoulder to shoulder as they dealt with this new danger.

Fiona forced a smile. "So. We are to go to a wedding? Who is getting married?"

Jack flashed her a relieved smile. "A gentleman I went to Eton with. He and I have kept in touch."

"It will be nice to get out of town." She began to shrug, then gasped with pain.

Jack went to the sideboard and poured a gla.s.s of brandy, then brought it to her. "This will help. Just sip it."

She took it and sniffed it gingerly. "I don't think-"

He exploded. "For the love of G.o.d, don't youever do what you are asked?"

Fiona closed her eyes, her throat suddenly tight. She was so tired, so afraid, and every muscle in her body was bruised and swollen.

The settee cushions sank as Jack sat beside her. "I know things seem dark, Fiona," he whispered, pulling her against him, "but they will get better. I promise they will."

Fiona sipped the brandy to please Jack. After the third sip, a pleasant numbness seeped through her. It warmed her bruised body and soaked into her sore muscles. Her eyes grew heavy, and she closed them for a moment just to rest them...

Jack knew the second she fell asleep. The gla.s.s slipped from her hand, but he caught it just in time and set it on the table. Then he rested his cheek against Fiona's hair, careful not to disturb her.

In London, they were obvious targets, their habits too well known, Kincaid House too large to protect. In Scotland, they'd have the advantage. There they would have the time to work their way through this mystery.

Jack looked down at where Fiona slept against his shoulder, her eyes closed, her lashes fanned over her cheeks.

He had to get Fiona to safety. Immediately.

Chapter Nineteen.

We Scots love a good weddin' and a bad funeral. Sometimes 'tis difficult to tell which is which.

OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND.

TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT.

"Oh, Lord Kincaid! Lord Kincaid!" A woman waved wildly from the portico of the country house. "It's me, Miss Hatfield! Oh,do say you remember me!"

Jack helped Fiona as she climbed from the carriage, murmuring in her ear, "Don't look now, but it's the bride."

The short, red-haired woman, dressed in pink silk that clashed sadly with her bobbing red curls, rushed toward them. "I told Paul you'd sent word you'd be arriving today, but he wouldn't believe me. La, how he will hate to be wrong!"

Fiona smiled as she murmured under her breath to Jack, "I thought you only knew the groom."

"I met Miss Hatfield only once, just enough to know that she's a bit emotional. You'll want to be careful not to-"

Miss Hatfield stood before them, almost hopping up and down. "It's justlovely of you to come, especially when it's still the Season in London and you're in such demand. Oh, is this your wife? Lady Kincaid, how nice to meet you!" Miss Hatfield grabbed Fiona's hand and pumped it heartily, then stepped back and looked her up and down. "Aren't you pretty as a picture! Why, I do think you're the most modish guest we've had yet. And justlook at the two of you, standing together, the sun on your hair. Oh!" Miss Hatfield pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. "You look sodear ! We really must get your portraits done!"

Hamish, who'd just removed the trunks from the carriage, regarded Miss Hatfield with the same expression he might bestow upon a dead cat in the road.

As the woman paused for breath, Jack took the opportunity to interject a greeting. Fiona did the same but then made the error of asking about the wedding. Miss Hatfield beamed and launched into a litany of all the troubles she'd had planning her wedding, guffawed quite inelegantly at the caterer who told her they couldn't have ices delivered all the way from Edinburgh when she knew for a fact that Lucy Marshall had ices at her eighteenth birthday party only two months ago, and shared a great deal of personal information about her soon-to-be husband that neither Jack nor Fiona cared to know.

Jack tried to interrupt several times, but Miss Hatfield could not be stayed. His irritation was just beginning to melt into distemper when he felt Fiona chuckle.

She met his glance with a barely suppressed smile, her eyes sparkling.

"Oh, yes," Miss Hatfield continued, unaware that she was causing amus.e.m.e.nt."Both the butcher and the baker died within two weeks of each other! I don't know how we'll have decent food on our table, and here we are, with so many guests! You cannot simplygrow those types of people overnight."

Fiona had to press a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud, which made Jack grin, too. Thus, it was with an amazingly calm voice that he was finally able to break into Miss Hatfield's monologue the moment she paused for breath. "Miss Hatfield, I am sorry the butcher and the baker have caused you such distress with their untimely demises, but Lady Kincaid and I are a bit weary from our journey. Do you think-"

"Oh, dear me! Here I am prattling away, and you two are probably exhausted! I will have your trunks taken up to the Rose Room." She leaned toward Fiona and said in a confidential tone, "It's the biggest guest chamber we have. Poor Paul's parents thought they were to get it, but I told them that until they grow a fortune or win a t.i.tle, I'm saving the room for someonereally important."

"Thank you," Fiona said, casting a laughing look at Jack.

Miss Hatfield, oblivious to everything, gestured toward the house. "Lord Kincaid, Paul is in the garden with the gentlemen if you'd care to say h.e.l.lo." She tucked Fiona's arm into hers and headed toward the portico. "Come, my dear! I shall take you to your chamber and have my maid wait upon you with some Grecian water. I bought it in Italy, and though I don't particularly care for its odor, I must say I sleep more soundly after I rub a bit on my temples."

"I am really not tired, just a bit stiff from the ride."

Jack sent a concerned glance toward Fiona. She was moving better now, with barely a limp. They'd traveled in easy stages, stopping frequently so she could get out and walk.

She'd done well, though she still appeared paler than usual.

"La, Lord Kincaid! Porterfield here will take you to the garden so that you may watch Paul smoke his silly cigars."

A portly butler bowed in Jack's direction.

"Meanwhile, I shall take good care of your lady." She patted Fiona's hand. "My dear, I hope you don't mind, but my eldest sister knows your brothers well, and she tells me you are in a delicate condition."

Fiona stumbled, and Miss Hatfield tightened her hold. "You must tell me all about it, for I'm sure I don't know the first thing, and like I told my fiance, I'm certain we'll have a large family, and I just know I'll be in the same interesting condition before you can say 'Sneeze!'"

Jack grinned as Fiona was led away, prisoner to a chatterbox. It had certainly been a bit off-color of Miss Hatfield to mention Fiona's "condition," but Fiona had taken it well enough.

Jack halted. Was it possible that Fionawas in an "interesting condition"? He watched her climb the stairs, noting that her hand frequently rested on her stomach. Had she always done that?

She'd been ill several times on the carriage ride, and they'd had to stop and let her regain her composure once or twice. She'd also cringed at a steak and kidney pie at a posting inn, which had surprised him, as she usually had a healthy appet.i.te.

Good G.o.d, shecould very well be carrying his child. Jack rubbed his forehead, his mind swirling. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. He was protecting not only his wife but his child as well.

He slipped a hand beneath his coat to the rea.s.suring weight of his pistol tucked securely into his waistband, then turned on his heel. Hamish stood at attention at the carriage, his face grim with menace. Jack gave his two footmen a warning glance, and Dobson and Peter nodded. They would keep a careful watch over the equipment, taking turns through the night. They'd also report anything suspicious they might see. Tomorrow, after the wedding, Fiona's two brothers would arrive, as would Devonsgate, who was following with the rest of their luggage. All were keeping their eyes peeled as they traveled the Great North Road.

Back in London, someone would have realized by now that the Kincaids were no longer in residence. Jack felt as if the cares of the world weighed on his shoulders.

The wedding was an elaborate affair. The bride wore a lovely blue gown and flowers in her hair. The groom wore a kilt and a formal coat bearing the family crest on the pocket. There were ma.s.ses of flowers, numerous bridal attendants, and so many guests that the pews in the beautifully decorated chapel overflowed.

Fiona sat beside Jack. He'd seemed unusually somber since they'd arrived. Miss Hatfield-now Mrs.

Cargreaves-spent the entire morning in a mist of tears. She grew dewy-eyed at the sight of her groom waiting for her at the altar, wept as she exchanged her vows, shed a tear at the end of ma.s.s, and fell in a sobbing mess upon the shoulder of her husband as they made their way to the receiving line.

Still, Fiona thought the ceremony lovely. The couple had been genuine in their professions of love, and the excitement with which they embarked on their new life was evident in their faces and the way they kept holding hands when they thought no one was looking.

Fiona watched them wistfully. She and Jack hadn't had the luxury of such a blissful sendoff; their wedding hadn't been what either of them had wished for. She slid a glance at Jack and found him staring out a window, his brows drawn. Was he thinking the same thing? The thought tightened her throat.

After going through the receiving line, they joined the other guests for dinner at the main house. The floor of the great hall was flagstone-well worn, uneven, and cold. It wasn't long before Fiona's back began to ache and her feet hurt.

She pressed a hand to the small of her back to relieve some of the pain and caught Jack's eyes on her. His gaze roamed over her, lingering on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her hips.

A familiar tingle traveled up her spine. Last night, he'd surprised her by the gentleness with which he'd made love to her. He'd seemed fascinated by her body, running his hands over her, cupping her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, kissing her stomach, and touching her with a near-reverence that had awed and excited her.

Perhaps tonight she'd seduce him in return. She would slip into bed without her night rail, slide her legs down him, run her hands over his shoulders and chest, touching and tasting as she went- She shivered, her nipples peaking at the thought. He was so handsome, this husband of hers, and so pa.s.sionate.

Jack took her arm and bent close. "Fiona, come and let's find a seat."

"Did you wish to dance?"

He looked down at her and hesitated. "No," he finally said. "Did you?"

She would have loved to, but her aching feet decreed otherwise. "I fear I'm still a bit sore."

"Of course." Jack led her away, finding a small group of empty chairs at a long table. "Here." He pressed her into a chair. "I will return."

He did, too. With his hands full-two cups of orgeat and two plates filled with slices of cake, hot tarts, and other delicacies.

He grinned. "I managed to get the last of the apple tarts. The fat man in the blue broadcoat will never speak to me again, but it will be worth it."

Fiona gurgled a laugh. "Your name will be spoken in harsh tones for weeks to come."

"I have no doubt." He handed her a plate with a slice of cake, and they ate and watched as several young couples came together to dance. The bride and groom held hands, looking sweetly shy as she chattered breathlessly and he looked upon her in silent adoration.

A faint ache tightened Fiona's heart. She didn't really long for the missed bridal veil and flowers but for the excitement of beginning life as a couple. They'd missed that and would never have it.

Jack followed Fiona's wistful gaze to where the bride and groom were leading a set in dancing. Was that saddening her? She'd never had a real wedding.