Read Highland Surrender Online
Authors: Dawn Halliday
Highland Surrender (40 page)
“Oh, hell,” Cam pushed out.
Sorcha’s brows peaked.
Cam backed away, intending to search for Alan, but she stopped him. “Good morning, Cam. Care to hand me that plaid?” She gestured with her chin to a blanket thrown over the back of a chair.
He went to the chair, took the blanket, then strode to Sorcha and handed it to her, averting his eyes.
She chuckled, enjoying his discomfiture.
“Let me guess,” she said softly, arranging the blanket to cover the exposed parts of her flesh. The child in her arms sighed in contentment and smacked his lips. “You’re looking for Ceana.”
He instantly forgot his embarrassment. “Was she here?”
“Aye.”
He gazed expectantly at Sorcha. “Well?”
“She’s gone. I’m sorry. She’ll not be coming back.”
“Where has she gone?” Cam demanded. “I must find her.”
“No, Cam. I’m sorry, but you must not. You must forget all about Ceana MacNab.”
Elizabeth opened her eyes. Late-afternoon sun streamed in the window of the hunting cottage, and she stretched her naked body languidly under the covers.
She and Rob had made love twice, and then they’d fallen asleep. He must have risen a while ago and gone to the other room or outside. As soon as it fell dark, he’d told her, they’d be on their way again. So it was imperative they sleep as long as possible during the day.
Rolling to her side, Elizabeth smiled. He’d made love to her beautifully, sweetly, staring down at her naked body as if in awe that she belonged to him. Touching every part of her as if she were a magnificent, priceless gem. And every touch she’d bestowed on him had left her feeling overwhelmed that someone so perfect for her, someone whom she loved and trusted as much as Rob, should be her husband.
He’d come inside her for the first time, and it had left both of them breathless, not only in body, but in spirit. The fact that she carried his seed inside her solidified the significance of their joining.
The door creaked open, and her smile widened. She turned over to face her husband.
But it wasn’t her husband standing at the door. It was Uncle Walter.
He wore no wig, patch, or face paint, and his clothing was askew. The rawness of his appearance sent her heart stuttering in her chest. Even when he was angry with her, he was always careful about how he presented himself.
Instinctively, she curled into a ball and covered her bare flesh with the blankets. Sweat beaded over her body, but the ice-cold terror made gooseflesh break out across her skin. Before she could stop it, a small whimper escaped her.
He just stood in the doorway, the look on his face inscrutable.
Don’t freeze, Elizabeth. Not this time. You must not. You must protect your husband.
She surged up in the bed, clutching the blanket to her chest. “Where is Rob?”
Her uncle grimaced. “You mean the servant boy? You know, Lizzy, I’m quite distressed there is no boat at hand, for if there were, he’d be at the bottom of the middle of the lake by now. But, alas, there is no boat. I’ve other plans for your friend.”
Terror barreled through her, more intense than anything she’d ever experienced. Her vision went black. She blinked hard, tightened the balls of her fists, struggled to regain control.
“H-h-how did you find us?”
“I followed you last night, but unfortunately I was alone. Your paramour could prove to be violent and unpredictable, so I determined I would need assistance. I followed you, and, content you would root yourselves here for a few hours at least, I returned to Camdonn Castle to collect my men. I was correct in my assessment of that boy, by the way. He put up quite a fight.”
“What did you do to him?”
“He will die, of course. He deserves no less for trifling with an English duke’s niece.”
The cold wash of terror grew thorns and transformed into rage. “I hate you.”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “That is a very unkind thing to say to your uncle, who took you in, raised you, cared for you, gave you all the presents and baubles your heart desired.”
“You’ve done naught but bring me misery.”
“Ah, but you bring that upon yourself, my dear.” He sighed and straightened, the bulk of his body completely blocking the doorway. “Now get up and get dressed. We haven’t much time.”
He turned around, facing into the adjacent room, but he didn’t walk away. With shaking hands, Elizabeth pulled on her shift and the
arisaid
Rob had brought for her.
arisaid
Rob had brought for her.
Turning to her uncle, she finished buckling the leather belt.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re taking a short journey to dispose of your friend, and then, of course, we’re returning to Camdonn Castle. You’re to marry the earl in four days’ time.”
Elizabeth brushed past him. Picking up her skirts, she flew out of the cottage. One of her uncle’s black-lacquered carriages stood on the lawn, looking more shabby than elegant, its golden crest spattered with dirt and mud. The four horses pranced nervously before it, and the coachman sat up front, his attention focused on controlling the animals. Two men hovered nearby on horseback, weapons glistening at their sides. One held the reins of Rob’s horse. Rob was nowhere to be seen.
Ignoring them all, Elizabeth yanked open the carriage door.
“Rob!”
He was slumped on the bench inside, thoroughly trussed at the wrists and ankles. He was unconscious. A man with pinched lips and brows sat across from him, pistol in hand aimed at him as if intending to shoot him the moment he awakened.
Nearly tripping over the steps in her haste to be at Rob’s side, she lunged at him. She cupped his face in her hands. His cheeks were clammy, but his breath feathered over her cheek when she bent down to feel it. She clamped back a sob of relief. As long as Rob lived, there was still hope. If he died . . .
No
.
.
She flung a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, her uncle stood just beyond the carriage door, surveying the scene dispassionately.
“What have you done to him?”
Uncle Walter shrugged. “He’s suffered a bit of a bump to the head, that’s all.”
She sucked in a breath, unsure whether to believe him. She tried to adjust Rob into a more comfortable position, paying no attention as her uncle climbed into the carriage and sat beside the other man.
The carriage lurched into movement as she spoke softly to Rob, heedless of the men watching her. She didn’t care about anything but saving her husband. She wished desperately that he’d wake up. She prayed for it. Her hands slipped over the ropes that bound his wrists, but the barrel of a gun nudged her fingers away.
“No, milady. You mustn’t touch his bonds.”
She kept speaking to him, murmuring, whispering words of encouragement, and finally, she said, “I love you.”
“I’ve heard quite enough,” Uncle Walter snapped. “Not a word more from you, Lizzy.”
She looked up at him through blurring eyes. “Why not? What will you do to me if I speak? Kill someone? Kill me? Rob?”
“I will make you regret it,” was his ready answer, and she did not doubt him. She kept her words to herself, but they ran rampant in her thoughts. If Rob could hear them, he’d know he needed to wake, and soon. He’d know how much she loved him.
He didn’t wake. The carriage plodded slowly, resolutely, across the uneven terrain. Elizabeth was certain she could have walked faster. The road to the hunting cottage wasn’t a road—it was a rough path, and a narrow one at that, riddled with rocks and holes. It was amazing that her uncle had brought a carriage there at all. Then again, the carriage was a convenient prison in which to hold them captive.
They bounced along for hours. The air inside the small space grew thick and warm, and sweat crept in rivulets between Elizabeth’s breasts and down her hairline. Rob’s eyes fluttered and opened once, but then he dropped into what seemed like an even deeper sleep.
She was hungry, she was thirsty, but none of that mattered. She stared across at Uncle Walter, a potent mixture of hatred and fear tangling within her. Why had she been such a coward? There had to have been a way to stop him long ago. She’d been too stupid, too childish . . . and now, once again, if her uncle had any say in the matter, the only person she had loved since her parents and brothers would die too.
Rob was hurt. If Uncle Walter had his way, he would die.
This time, she had to stop him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
R
ob remained dead asleep, and Elizabeth sat in stony silence, her mind churning with her options for escape while the two men across from her exchanged small talk. Such was Uncle Walter’s confidence in his scheme that he hadn’t tied her or bound her at all—surely that could work to her advantage. Yet if she moved, Uncle Walter had directed the henchman to kill Rob.
ob remained dead asleep, and Elizabeth sat in stony silence, her mind churning with her options for escape while the two men across from her exchanged small talk. Such was Uncle Walter’s confidence in his scheme that he hadn’t tied her or bound her at all—surely that could work to her advantage. Yet if she moved, Uncle Walter had directed the henchman to kill Rob.
After they’d traveled for the better part of the afternoon, the carriage drew to a rumbling halt. “Move aside, I say,” the coachman shouted, his voice muffled by the wall of the carriage. “Allow us to pass.”
A small commotion sounded outside, but her uncle remained serene. “No doubt a herd of sheep has blocked the way.”
Finally, the coach jerked into slow movement again, and Elizabeth saw from the window on Rob’s side that a cart, its contents covered by plaids, had pulled onto the grass to allow them to pass. A blond-haired youth drove the cart. Another person, a woman whose head was covered by a tartan shawl, had alighted from the bench and faced the forest. She didn’t turn to look at them as they drove past.
Elizabeth sank into her seat. She’d thought of calling out for help, but what good would it do? Even if the strangers were inclined to help them, chances were that her uncle’s man would shoot Rob before they reached the carriage door.
They traveled on. The shadows lengthened, darkening the interior of the carriage. Rob occasionally stirred, sometimes groaned, but still he did not wake.
Elizabeth sat very still, continuously schooling herself to be calm. Else she’d lash out, try to kill Uncle Walter, and end up dead. Or, much more likely, Rob would end up dead.
She stared out the window, studying their surroundings. They’d ascended a steep slope and had ventured inland, high above the loch. The trees grew thick and tall here—pines, junipers, rowans, and other species she could not name, in thick patches on either side of the path, casting the way in shadow. This deep in the forest, the fading sunlight penetrated the thick leaves and dappled the ground in spots like a faun’s.
Rob’s eyes fluttered, and she stroked the line of his jaw, willing him awake.
Across from her, Uncle Walter plunged his hand into his coat and pulled something out. On the fringes of her vision, she saw him pinching a clay vial between two fingers. He turned it over in his hands, studying it with a musing expression on his face.
“Belladonna. The deadly nightshade.”
Shivers cascaded down Elizabeth’s spine.
“I acquired it when last I was in London, where I saw it put to work on a criminal. It is a most expedient poison, and best of all, if anyone finds the body afterward, there is no external wound to point to murder. No one need know that the person’s death was not a natural one.”
So that was why they were heading into the forest. Uncle Walter planned to poison Rob and dispose of him before returning to Camdonn Castle.
“No.”
He raised his gray brows.
“I won’t let you do this.”
He sighed. “Oh, Lizzy. I fear you cannot stop me.”
She must stop him, but how? She glanced surreptitiously at the man sitting beside her uncle. As the hours had passed, he had grown lax. He had assumed a relaxed position, the pistol held loosely on his lap. If she was quick enough, she could grab the pistol, thrust Rob out of the carriage, and leap out after him. She’d never shot at anyone, but she’d seen a gun being fired before. All she’d need to do was squeeze the trigger. She’d have one shot to battle off her uncle and the man beside him, the coachman, and the two on horseback. Even if Rob awakened, he could do nothing to help with his wrists and ankles tied.
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