How to Abduct a Highland Lord (26 page)

 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 bloody 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 passengers 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.”

 “Damnation!” 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, damn 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.”

 “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 embarrassed 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 glass 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 God, 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 glass 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 amusement.“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.”