Fascination -and- Charmed (89 page)

“Nelly,” Calum said. “And Justine behind her.” And after Justine came Max.

Nelly and Max reached them at the same time. “Oh, Mr. Innes,” Nelly said, catching at his arm as he dismounted. “Oh, sir.”

“I saw ‘em go,” Max said, jumping up and down. “I saw ‘em.”

“Hush, Max,” Justine said, arriving slightly out of breath. All three appeared disheveled and the rising wind tossed their hair. Justine looked to Struan. “I would have sent for you had I known where Pippa’s cabin was. That is where you were?”

“Yes—”

“I wished I’d known, too, your lordship,” Nelly said, rolling her apron around her hands. “There’s none here but womenfolk and children. The rest are all out searching.”

“For me?” Struan said, rumpling his brow.

“I saw ‘em,” Max said. “The black-haired man and a big ’orse. Breathing fire, the ’orse was—and smoke. And there were black dogs the size of bears with ghosts holding their chains. And the billowy lady went in the carriage with the other ’orse behind.”

“
Hush,
Max,” Justine said. “He is severely agitated and must be forgiven. This is a terrible strain and far too much for children. Grandmama refuses to leave her rooms.”

Calum restrained himself from mentioning that the dowager frequently refused to leave her rooms.

“Poor little Ella’s beside herself,” Nelly said. To Struan she spoke very earnestly. “She’s taken on terrible about her mam, your lordship. I think with what’s happened here, it’s brought it all back. She keeps talking about her mam dying like it just happened.”

“Did,” Max said. “You’ve got to go after ’em, Mr. Innes. Before it’s too late.”

“Go after whom?” Calum caught the boy by the shoulders.

“He’s not slept in two days,” Justine said, shivering and folding her arms tightly. “You know how he makes up stories, but forgive him, please.” She pulled a note from her pocket and gave it to Calum. “Read that. Everyone’s been out searching ever since.”

With Struan looking over his shoulder, Calum read.

“When Nelly went to her yesterday morning, she was gone,” Justine said. “We think she left in the night. Her favorite horse is missing. But so far no one’s come to say they’ve seen any sign of her.”

“Where’s…where’s your brother?” Calum asked.

“Searching with the rest. They took every able man from the estate. Villagers volunteered, too, and a host from Cloudsmoor.”

“I saw ’em go,” Max shouted. “I saw ’em. Cacklin’ and whisperin’. Fearsome, it was.”

Nelly shook her head and tried to take the boy into her arms. “He’s been telling his stories ever since it happened. Poor little motherless boy.”

“Poor Pippa,” Justine said. Dark smudges underscored her tired eyes. “I’m afraid for her. There’s going to be a terrible storm and she’s alone out there.”

This was his fault. Calum glanced at Struan. “Let us get them inside. Then I’ll set off.”

“Not until someone returns,” Justine said. “What point is there in going where others have already been?”

“I have to do something. I’ll go to Cloudsmoor Hall.”

“We already know she didn’t go there.”

“My
God,”
Calum said. “I blame myself for this.”

“No,” Struan said simply, casting Calum a warning stare before taking Justine’s hand and tucking it beneath his arm. “Come, dear lady. I’ll see you safely inside and we’ll think what will be best. Come, Nelly, and you, too, Max.”

“I’ll deal with the horses,” Calum said, gathering the reins of both beasts.

“The billowy lady helped the tall man put ’er on the ’orse,” Max said when the others had disappeared inside the castle.
“No one will listen to me.”

Buffeted by the wind, Calum started for the stables. “Come and help me,” he said to the boy. “The viscount and I will need fresh mounts.”

“No, you won’t.” Max capered at Calum’s side. “I’d go on my own. Honest, I would. Only I’m afraid of that big man and I don’t mind sayin’ as much.”

“Billowy ladies and tall, black-haired men,” Calum said.
His fault. He’d driven her out into the night alone.
“And fire-breathing horses and giant dogs led by ghosts.”

“
One
billowy lady. You know the one. ’Er. I don’t know ’er name, but she was at the fair with the nasty duke what owns this place and that other man—the one what pinched my cheek.”

Calum paused. “Henri St. Luc? He pinched your face?”

“Yes, yes. That’s the one. That’s ’is name. ’E wanted me to go with ’im to ’is rooms one day, but I wouldn’t. ’E was drivin’ the carriage when the billowy lady left.”

“Lady Hoarville?”

“I don’t know ’er name. The one with silver hair, and—”

“Anabel,” Calum said, dropping to his haunches in front of Max. “What does she have to do with Lady Philipa?”

Max spread his arms. “I’ve been tryin’ to tell you. Nobody will listen to me.”

“I’m listening now.”

“It’s because I’ve told too many tales, and I won’t never do it again.”

Calum made fists on his thighs. “
Tell
me.”

“I wanted someone to ’elp Ellie ’cause she wouldn’t stop cryin’. I tried to get you, but you was gone. So I went to find Lady Philipa, because Ellie’d sneaked away to the fair and found out our mum’s died. When Ellie come back, she wouldn’t stop cryin’. I didn’t know our mum much.”

Calum was speechless.

“Anyway, I went to get Lady Philipa to ’elp. And I saw em.

“Yes?” Calum’s heart hammered.

“A big man what I ain’t never seen before carried Lady Philipa out of her room. That lady was there, the one what you said. I followed ’em and they put Lady Philipa on a ’orse. She was asleep. The man rode away with ’er and the other lady left with that Henry.”

Calum schooled himself to speak calmly. “And you told this to the duke?”

Max shook his head. “Nobody would listen to—”

“No, no. I understand.” He stood up. God help him, he didn’t know which direction to follow.

“I’ll come with you, Mr. Innes. I can be brave if you’re there.”

Calum tried to smile. “Thank you, my friend. But first I’ll have to decide where to start looking for them.”

“But I know. I saw ’em.”

Focusing on the boy’s green eyes, Calum tilted his head. “You saw them? You mean you saw them ride away?”

“Yes. And then I followed. I didn’t think I’d find ’em. But with Lady Philipa slipping about in her sleep, they went slow—and they didn’t go far, see. The ’orse is tied up outside, so I knew I was right. Only nobody would—”

“I’m listening,” Calum said.

Pippa could scarcely make out the newcomer’s face in the gloom.

“Get out,” he told her captor curtly. “Go wherever it is you go and wait there.”

“But you aren’t supposed to be here. She—”

“Hold your tongue or you’ll wish you had. You have made a great error. The party to whom you refer has just revealed the nature of this disastrous venture to me. I was searching the countryside when she—when I was told.”

“Now you listen to me—”

“No. You listen to me. If you hold to silence for one month, you can expect to benefit. Do I make myself clear?”

“Very clear,
Your Grace,
” the man said. “But I think you’ll have trouble with—”

“
You
deal with that problem. Make certain no further approach is made to me at the castle.
Leave
us at once.”

After the briefest of hesitations, the man turned and left the beacon room, thudding down the steps at a great rate.

“My dear Philipa.” The Duke of Franchot came toward her, his arms outstretched. “Thank God I found out this evil plan before it was too late. I can scarcely believe you have been here through two terrible nights. I was searching for you. But you are safe now, my dear.”

She closed her eyes and hadn’t the strength to resist when he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Innes was going to kill us both,” Franchot said. “Then he was going to say I’d murdered you because you believed he is the rightful duke.”

Shuddering rattled her teeth together. A rising gale sent an icy blast into the chamber, but it was not the cold wind that chilled her.

“My poor, dear creature,” Franchot said. “He has not accomplished his scheme. I have my own ways of ensuring that my interests are preserved. And your interests are also my interests. We shall leave this frightful place now.”

“What has happened?” she asked, trying to draw away.

Franchot lifted her into his arms. “He is not apprehended, but he will be. Meanwhile, I must take you—and myself—somewhere safe. We must preserve your honor at all costs. Fear not, dearest, that will be easily done. I have a boat in the cove below. We shall put in farther down the coast and marry immediately. Everything is arranged.”

“But I don’t understand. Why don’t we go back and confront him?”

Franchot strode with her from the lighthouse and set off down a rocky trail to the shore. “Save your strength,” he said, breathing hard. “The tide is high and we’ll have a harsh pull ahead of us.”

Calum could not have done what Franchot had said. “Please,” she urged. “I do not think this is wise.”

“It is the way it will be,” he responded, muscles contracting in his jaw. “That man will not get the better of me, and neither will anyone else. What is mine is mine, and it shall not be taken from me.”

Pippa closed her mouth and felt a scream rise in her throat. He appeared quite mad.

The boat Franchot referred to was a crabber’s rowboat, one of several drawn up on the narrow strip of rough beach. Depositing her inside, he shoved the broad-beamed little vessel to the water’s edge and pushed off into foaming waves.

“It’s too rough,” she said as he jumped in and took the oars. “Surely we would be wise to return to the castle and deal with this matter.”

If he heard her, he gave no sign. A glossy sheen filmed his pale eyes and sweat stood out on his brow. His fine clothes were already sodden.

Slowly, he began to row away from shore.

“There will be a storm,” Pippa cried, pointing to leaden skies. Heavy drops of rain spattered the seas around the boat and wetted her upturned face. “We will go back and ensure all is done appropriately.”

“I shall beat them all,” Franchot said, while the rain soaked his hair. “Any that get in my way shall die.” Laughing, his face streaming with water, he pulled farther and farther into the roiling sea.

Depositing Max inside the castle with firm instructions not to follow had taken too much time. Calum had ordered the boy to explain his story to Struan. Pray Struan would listen and follow without delay.

In front of the lighthouse, Calum leaped from his horse before the beast came to a complete stop. An untethered horse, one he recognized as coming from the Franchot stables, raised his head as Calum ran past.

He took the steps inside the lighthouse by twos and burst into the room at the top, his legs bent, his stance braced for battle.

Empty.

Desperately, he cast about. A candle lay on its side beside remnants of bread and cheese upon a grimy kerchief.

Rain beat through the openings into the tower and Calum strode to stare out. The horse must have been the one Max saw, but where were the man and Pippa? They couldn’t have left without a mount.

He scoured the countryside and saw nothing move.

Below lay only the beach with several small boats pulled up high. They’d need to be brought higher shortly or their owners would lose them. No doubt those owners were busy searching for Pippa.

The storm had fully broken and waves roared onto the shore.

With desolation in his soul, Calum glanced at the rising seas and grew still. A boat, like the ones on the shore, headed out from the beach. Two people were in that boat, a man and a woman.

The woman’s long black hair whipped like a dark flag.

Pippa.

The blackguard who’d taken her must have seen Calum coming and was bent on escaping with her—even if he killed them both. Evidently Lady Hoarville had offered a great prize to rid herself of her rival.

Calum thudded into walls in his mad descent from the lighthouse, and his boots slid on shale as he dashed to the beach. Looking to sea, he saw that the boat containing Pippa was tossing, rising on the brow of each wave only to plummet into the trough in its wake.

Shutting out thought, Calum dragged another boat to the water’s boiling edge. From early childhood he’d rowed on the Scottish lochs, but never on the high seas.

With his back to his quarry, he pulled with all the desperate strength of his fury and desire.

Minutes passed—or were they hours? Calum rowed, leaning forward until his chest crowded his knees and heaving a path through walls of steel-gray wrath.

A sheet of water hit the boat broadsides and rose like wavering pewter-colored glass. As it fell, Calum was drenched.

And, not a hundred yards distant, the laboring boat that carried Pippa was still afloat.

She had not seen him.

Franchot had.

Calum noted nothing but the way Pippa hunched over and the other man’s sudden release of his oars.

And Calum prayed. He felt the strength of a hundred men but knew he needed more.

Franchot wrestled a while with something Calum could not see, then abruptly stood up. In one hand he held an oar—the other had slipped into the ocean.

Frantically, Calum sculled, turning his boat about and hauling on his own oars to draw closer.

“Careful…” Franchot’s shout was lost in the tempest.

Clutching the gunwales, Pippa stared toward Calum.

“Not too close…” Franchot called.

Calum understood. If he drew too close, they’d likely ram and go down together.

Sitting again, Franchot extended his remaining oar in Calum’s direction. In turn, Calum positioned himself as best he could, shipped his own oars and, after four pawing misses, snagged a hold on Franchot’s lifeline.

The two boats rose and fell. Calum knelt in water gathering in the bottom of his boat and reached, using Franchot’s oar as an anchor, until he grasped the gunwale of the other boat.

He had no warning of the mighty yank that toppled him into the roaring deep.