Highland Bachelor 02 - This Laird of Mine (18 page)

The woman came to a stop just out of his reach. If only he could grab her and the dagger in his boot before they slit Claire’s throat. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to strike.

The hooded figure must have seen his subtle movement because she took a step back. “But is that revenge against you? David? Claire?”

“Without knowing who you are, it makes it hard to tell,” David growled, earning a glare from those beady eyes.

“Would you like to know?” The woman’s voice changed; became less strained, as though she had been modulating it before to hide something. A shiver raced down his back. He recognized that voice—the new one. He could only stare as the woman reached up and gripped the edges of her hood. Slowly, she slid the dark wool back to reveal a head of darker hair streaked with gray and an age-lined face.

A familiar face.

“You.” Jules’s voice remained steady and did not betray the shock tearing his gut.

“Me.” She smiled, the look sinister.

He remembered that smile—the one that always marked her as a little bit mad. “You are supposed to be dead, stepmother.”

“Your stepmother?” Claire whispered.

Jules’s heart hammered against his ribs as he tethered his shock and his rage. He had spent sixteen months and twenty-seven days in gaol for a murder he had never committed. Undeniable proof now stood before him as his brain scrambled back to the past. “You staged your own death, Agatha. Why?”

“You refused to give me the one thing I wanted. The thing I longed for most in this world. You made me suffer, and I wanted your death.” An angry flush touched her cheeks. “But you didn’t die. So now it is my turn to make you suffer as I have through the years.”

She reached beneath her cloak and pulled out a coiled length of rope. She held it out to David. “Form a loop in the rope and slide it around your wrists.”

David didn’t move.

“If you do not do as I say . . .” she let the words trail off as she looked at the man who held Penelope, “the young one dies.”

Penelope whimpered.

David took the rope, formed a loop, and slid it over his wrists.

“Good.” She nodded to the man holding Penelope. He forced her away as he reached to grab David. He tightened the noose around David’s arms, then twisted it around his torso, tying it in a knot behind his back.

“That should keep you subdued for a while,” the lackey said.

“Don’t do this, please let him go,” Penelope sobbed.

“Shut her up,” Agatha demanded.

The lackey gripped a sword.

David, despite his bindings, hurled himself forward, taking the man down before he could strike. The man’s head hit the stone wall with a sickening thud, and he went limp. The sword clattered to the floor.

Agatha started toward the sword.

“You are a coward, Agatha.” Jules lashed out with the only weapon he had available. He had to keep Agatha distracted while David struggled to his feet. “You’re a spineless coward who has to kidnap little girls in order to feel powerful.”

Agatha’s face turned red as her focus returned to Jules. “Watch what you say.”

“If you wanted revenge,” Jules continued as David’s hands edged down to his boot and the dagger hidden inside, “you should have come after me. Instead you went after children. That is as spineless as they come.”

Agatha’s eyes sparked. “Bastard!”

Yes, get mad at me, leave the others alone.
“What did I do to you, Agatha? Was it that I refused your perverted advances?”

“I offered you a world of pleasure.”

“You were married to my father.”

“He wasn’t enough for me. Neither was your brother.” Jules startled at the revelation before he could catch his response.

“You didn’t know?” She laughed. “He wouldn’t touch me at first, but good old Kildare whiskey weakened his resolve.” Her features turned hard again. “But you were never one for the spirits, so I found something else that would bring you to heel.”

“Your vile plans won’t work, Agatha.”

“They already have. You should thank your father,” she said with a villainous smile that made Jules’s blood run cold. “He came to see Grayson and begged him to reveal your whereabouts. He had discovered the truth about my death, and feared for your safety once you were released from gaol seven months ago. However, Grayson knew the rift between you and your father went deep. Your solicitor’s strong sense of loyalty to you went on for months. But your father’s pleas wore Grayson down, eventually. I’ll give the man credit for holding out as long as he did.”

Jules stiffened as though struck by a sword. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“I have no reason to lie, not now when I am about to get everything I ever wanted from you.”

“And what did you want?”

“To watch you suffer as I suffered. You gave me the means to my revenge when you created Claire. All I had to do was wait your father out and blackmail your solicitor. Both were easy enough to do. Your father wrestled the truth behind your false bride out of Grayson, and that was when I took over. I let your father find you a bride, then I stole her away. I forced her to play the game my way.”

Agatha turned to Claire. “You always had a soft spot for a damsel in distress. I figured she would be an easy way to seize your attention and your heart. Her little wards were an added bonus, and the perfect blackmail to use against her if she failed to cooperate.”

“Where are the girls?” Claire demanded, fighting against the ropes at her wrists.

“Close and yet so far away,” she said, smiling confidently. “You should be less worried about the girls and more worried about yourself.” Agatha turned back to Jules. “I can see why your father chose this one. She has courage. That courage will make her more interesting to try and break.”

“She means nothing to me,” Jules said, his tone sharp.

Claire froze.

“You don’t fool me, Jules,” Agatha said through narrowed eyes. “I watched you from afar for days. You gave her things you refused to give me.”

“I will not deny that I enjoyed the pleasure she brought me, but that was all we had between us. She means nothing to me. Nothing.” His voice was sharp.

Doubt flickered across Agatha’s face. “Why would you use her like that? It’s very unlike you.”

“She’s a beautiful woman. I gave in to temptation.” Jules shrugged. “As you said, my father chose well.”

Claire’s face paled.

Jules tore his gaze from the hurt in Claire’s eyes and narrowed his gaze on the woman before him. “You are a fool, Agatha. You only saw what you wanted to see. You are a fool and a coward.”

She spat at him. “Chain him up!” she shouted at the man who held Claire. The cloaked figure startled, then came forward and, with trembling fingers, gripped Jules’s right wrist, securing it to the wall.

For a heartbeat Jules fought the assault until he caught a glimpse of the desolation on Claire’s face. Her pain was almost unbearable. He closed himself off to it, focusing on the madwoman who wanted revenge. He had to make her think he wanted nothing to do with Claire. It was the only way to keep her safe.

The lackey pressed Jules backward against the stone and secured his left wrist in the all-to-familiar restraints that were fixed to the stone. His feet were next, until he was securely detained.

“Do you remember what it felt like, to be helplessly chained to a wall?”

He remained silent, fighting the desolation and panic he had lived with every day of his incarceration.

“No? Well, perhaps I should remind you of more than just the loss of your freedom. How about this?” She withdrew a whip from beneath her cloak, uncoiled it, and sent it flying across the space that separated them.

Pain bit into his chest as the lash reached its target. He bit back a groan, forcing himself not to react. “Why?” he asked, grateful his voice remained strong, not revealing the terror that threatened to swamp him. He had to stay in control.

“Eventually, you will beg for that which you once denied.”

“Never.”

She gave him a demented smiled as she sent the whip singing through the air once more, but in the opposite direction.

Claire!

Claire cried out at the biting sting of the leather as it connected with her shoulder. The lash tore her gown, leaving her shoulder and the welt beneath exposed.

With a growl of fury, Jules threw his body toward Agatha, desperate to be freed.

“Oh, yes,” Agatha said with a note of glee in her tone. “You will beg me for just about anything before I am through.” Murder burned in her gaze.

Jules fought against his restraints, like a wild animal caught in a trap. “You are right,” Jules bit out. “I will do whatever you ask, just leave the others alone.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jules saw that David had almost sliced through his bindings. “You want me to touch you, Agatha, I will, but only when we are alone.” He would touch her all right. He would gladly wring her neck and willingly go back to gaol for her murder if only to protect the woman he lo—

Jules blocked off the thought. He could not lose himself to his emotions. Their survival meant playing along and convincing the madwoman before him that what he professed was the truth.

Agatha lifted the whip once more, and a thrill of fear clutched at Jules. “I am yours, Agatha. All you have to do is release them.”

Indecision clouded her eyes even as a maniacal smile tugged at her lips. She hesitated, searched Jules’s expression, and must have liked what he reflected back to her. “Very well—” Agatha’s words ended abruptly when David sent the second lackey flying
backward. David gripped Agatha about the neck, dragging her back against the wall.

Agatha’s eyes bulged from her head as she attempted to break free of David’s strong grasp. She struggled to breathe. Her fingers left David’s arm to disappear beneath her cloak.

“Watch out!” Jules warned a second too late as she brought a dagger up and slashed David’s forearm.

He grimaced, but held tight.

“You . . . will . . . pay . . . for this.” Again, Agatha brought the dagger up, this time aiming for David’s neck, but instead of striking out, she howled—the sound a mixture of rage, fury, and frustration. The animalistic sound echoed through the chamber as Penelope plunged David’s dagger into the woman’s side once more.

“The first was for my finger. The second for Anna. And this is for Eloise.” Penelope struck a third time. She pulled her hand back, her once-pristine bandage now covered in blood.

“That’s enough, Penelope,” David said forcefully, jarring the young woman out of her vengeful stupor.

Penelope’s eyes went wide and her face paled with horror. She dropped the dagger at her feet. “What have I done?”

David released his grasp on Agatha. He snagged the blade from her hand a moment before the injured madwoman wilted to the floor. “You’ve served justice, where justice was due, Penelope. Nothing more.”

Claire took advantage of the chaos. She gained her feet and in the same moment she swung her bound arms at the head of the lackey behind her.

He staggered backward but did not fall. When Claire moved to hit him again, he forced his hood back, revealing his face.

Jules recognized the debt collector instantly. “Arthur Cabot?”

“Stop,” Arthur said, putting up his arms in a defensive stance. “It is my duty to follow you in an effort to recover what you owe your creditors. I have been pursuing you since your return to Argyll. Just as she has,” he explained.

The explanation did nothing to stop Claire. She swung at Arthur again, knocking him in the gut.

He groaned at the impact, but did not fight back. “I know where the girls are,” he said.

Claire froze.

“I followed her here to the cemetery and into the mausoleum. They took the tunnel on the right. At the end of it, while they were occupied, I peered into a chamber similar to this one and witnessed them putting two young women into a sarcophagus.”

Claire fell to her knees. She cried out as if in pain.

“No, no,” Arthur exclaimed. “They put them in there alive.”

Claire drew in a harsh breath. “They are alive?”

Arthur nodded.

“You’ll never . . . get to them . . . in time,” Agatha said between gasping breaths.

Jules let loose a growl. He pulled at the manacles as hard as he could. “Get me down from here.”

David was at his side a moment later, pounding the tip of his dagger against the lock.

Arthur held out a key. “This might be quicker.”

“How did you come to be here then? Dressed as you are?” David asked while he accepted the key.

“I unfortunately made a noise while I was observing. One of Agatha’s henchmen came to investigate. I knocked him out, took his cloak, and assumed his role in her schemes.”

Jules was freed a moment later. “Show us where the girls are.”

Arthur grabbed one of the lanterns and headed out of the chamber. David retrieved his sword and a second lantern, then helped Penelope to her feet. “Are you coming?” he asked Jules with a frown when neither he nor Claire moved to follow.

“Right behind you,” Jules said. “Claire.” He waved her toward the doorway.

She looked back at the woman on the ground, at the blood seeping from her wounds. “What about her?” she asked haltingly.

“We will leave her here and send the authorities back to get her.”

“If she dies . . . Penelope . . .” Claire broke off.

Jules shook his head. “Penelope is the victim, not this woman.”

“She’s not a woman, she’s a monster,” Claire said, her tone flat. “I knew it the moment she took the girls, then tried to manipulate me . . .”

“You are not to blame here either, Claire.” He held out his hand.

She moved past it, out of the chamber, leaving him alone with Agatha. Jules stared at the chamber that had been alive with Claire’s presence a moment before and wondered how or if they could move forward from here.

Jules reached for the remaining lantern.

“Don’t leave me . . . in darkness.” Agatha stretched out her hand, an appeal for mercy, despite all she had done.

A cold, blessed numbness settled inside him where his heart should have been. “From experience, I know you can survive in darkness far longer than it will take the authorities to arrive.”