Secrets to Seducing a Scot (23 page)

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Authors: Michelle Marcos

BOOK: Secrets to Seducing a Scot
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The guard continued to chuckle. “Ye’re wasting yer time. Guthrie’s not aboot to let a prisoner escape.”
Malcolm met the old man’s gaze. Malcolm was at a disadvantage. He knew it. The guard knew it. Guthrie knew it. Malcolm had gone as far as he could. His success or failure was in the hands of the old man Guthrie.
Serena walked up to the iron gate. She reached into the pouch that dangled from her belt and pulled out the bottle of digitalis.
“Sir,” she whispered, her eyes beginning to water, “all I ask is that you give him this. It’s medicine … for his weak heart. Please.”
The guard chuckled some more until Malcolm thumped him in the temple with the barrel.
Guthrie’s mouth turned down at the edges. He eyed the brown bottle in Serena’s hand. His gaze lifted to Serena’s face.
“Give it to him yerself.” He put the iron key into the lock and turned it, its mechanism grinding and clanking
within. The door opened on its hinge. Serena gasped, glancing at him with something between suspicion and gratitude, then flew inside.
The dungeon was a warren of small cells, each enclosed by stone walls and an oaken door with iron bars. The air was polluted with the smell of unwashed bodies and human excrement. She ran down the narrow passageway, looking into every cell. Each one was occupied, but not by her father.
“Father!” she cried, despair darkening her voice.
“Serena?” came her father’s voice.
She flew to the cell the sound came from. “Father!” Inside was Earlington Marsh, looking drawn and pale, but miraculously alive. The sight of him tore sobs from her.
“Poppet! I thought I would never lay eyes on you again.” Tears streamed down his face as he put his hands through the bars to stroke her hair. “What on earth are you doing here? How did you find me?”
Guthrie walked up behind Serena. He put the key into the lock and opened the door. Earlington emerged and pulled Serena into his arms. Serena hugged her father so tightly that the bottle nearly slipped from her trembling fingers.
Malcolm came up behind them, urging the guard ahead of him. He shoved the wounded man into Earlington’s cell, and the man stumbled to the floor with a grimace. Malcolm took the key from Guthrie and locked the guard inside.
Earlington put a hand out to Guthrie. “Thank you. I’m more grateful than you can ever know.”
Guthrie shook it. “Remember what I told ye. And if ye get to talk to the Prince, tell him that we wish to end the feud. The soil of our country should never be watered by the blood of its own children.”
Earlington nodded, squeezing the old man’s hand.
“Ambassador,” said Malcolm. “We must away. Now.”
The three of them ran out of the dungeon and up the stairs to the courtyard. Malcolm led the way, stopping at the arched door. He glanced outside. The pages were gone, but the sentry was in the center of the courtyard. There was no way they would be able to run across undetected. They had to sneak back the way they came, creeping behind the small bailey.
They waited until the sentry’s back was turned, and then darted across to the shadows behind the bailey. Just as they were about to sneak out past the broken wagon, the dungeon guard emerged from the arched doorway, his face bloodied from Malcolm’s beating.
“A prisoner’s escaped. Lower the portcullis! Lower it now!”
From a tiny window above the archway, a man rattled to life and began to lower the heavy wood-and-metal grille.
Malcolm shouted. “Run!”
Serena and her father took off hand in hand. They got halfway to the portcullis when Earlington’s hand slipped from Serena’s. She turned to look. He was doubled over, clutching his chest.
“Father! Malcolm, help!”
Metal screeched against stone as the portcullis continued to descend. Malcolm lifted Earlington into his arms. Thinking quickly, Serena grabbed the broken wagon wheel and wedged the arc of metal and wood underneath the opening.
Serena was already outside, but Malcolm was running as fast as he could carrying the full-grown man in his arms. The heavy door lowered to the level of the wagon wheel and slowed as it made contact.
“Hurry!” she shouted. The wheel would hold the portcullis, but only for a few seconds.
Malcolm reached the gate and threw Earlington under the opening. But the sentry laid his hands on Malcolm and tossed him to the ground.
“Malcolm!” A sense of alarm froze her blood. She realized with dismay that she no longer had possession of the pistol. Malcolm had taken it from her in the dungeon.
The sentry, a large man, had Malcolm pinned to the ground facedown, unable to reach for the gun wedged in the waistband of his kilt.
The spokes of the wagon wheel splintered as the weight of the portcullis bore down. The wheel would snap at any minute.
“Malcolm, hurry!”
Malcolm’s hand connected with the small dirk wedged in his hose. He unsheathed the knife and rammed it into the man’s calf. Screaming, the man jumped off him. Malcolm crawled out from under him and through the opening under the teeth of the portcullis, a single moment before the wagon wheel shattered.
A cluster of soldiers reached the arched entry. “Raise the portcullis!” they shouted to the man in the room above the archway.
Serena ignored the impotent shouts. She knelt beside her father, swiftly pulled out the bottle from her pouch, and poured a swallow of it in her father’s mouth.
“Take this, Father. The pain will pass,” she said, the confidence in her voice hollow but the hope strong.
Through his twisted expression, Earlington swallowed the bitter draft. He gasped for breath, and within seconds his heartbeat returned to an even rhythm.
Slowly, the portcullis lifted from its groove.
“Time to go,” shouted Malcolm. “I’ll carry yer father. Just move!”
Serena led them back across the sheep pasture. By the time they reached the forest, the soldiers were on their trail. Their escape was downhill, which gave them extra speed. Soon they found the horses they had hidden in the clearing. Malcolm helped Serena and Earlington onto one horse, and then he jumped on the other.
They left the soldiers behind as their horses leapt into flight.
Earlington Marsh gazed out of the window onto English soil.
British
soil.
The morning sun peeked through the clouds, warming the gentlefolk below as they went to church. Newcastle ladies underneath ornate parasols strolled through the park, accompanied by well-dressed gentlemen clicking their walking sticks on the pavement. And though he was far from the nightmarish experience of being confined to a Scottish dungeon, the scene of bustling tranquility on the streets below did nothing to gladden his heart.
Earlington was staying as a guest of Lord Torrence Patterson, a Member of Parliament and friend, who insisted that Earlington recuperate from his ordeal under Lord Patterson’s personal care. Earlington was only too happy to accept, especially since he did not feel well enough to journey all the way to London just yet.
He heard a knock on the door. A footman entered.
“A General Frobisher here to see you, sir.”
“Thank you. Please send him in.”
Moments later a uniformed army officer was escorted into the study.
General Frobisher was a man of singularly hard looks, with a slather of brown hair and determined brown eyes.
A man of imposing breadth, even without the epaulets and gold braiding, he had a soldier’s bearing. He carried his plumed bicorn in the crook of his arm, and he moved with great purpose, as if he were always walking against the wind.
“Ambassador Marsh,” he said in a thick voice as he shook Earlington’s hand. “I came at your summons. What may I do for you?”
“Please sit down, General. I would hear your report on the Highland insurrection.”
The general shifted his sword and folded himself into the proffered chair after Earlington took a seat. “Forgive my familiarity, Ambassador, but ought you to be so concerned with the battle at this point in time? It has been less than a week since your rescue. And even though your escape to England aboard ship was swift, I am given to understand that the journey was especially arduous. Perhaps you should be resting.”
“I find it difficult to sleep of late, General. I’m sure you can understand.”
“Sir, I have my best men—experienced soldiers—posted both inside and outside this residence around the clock. Please take your ease. There will
not
be a recurrence of the abduction you suffered.”
“I thank you for your concern, General, but I assure you that I am well on the way toward making a full recovery. However, I cannot in good conscience rest while our Scottish brethren are under attack. Please tell me all you know, and withhold nothing.”
General Frobisher cocked his head. “Very well. Our troops engaged the insurrectionists on three fronts—two in Ross-shire, and one at Inverness, the last being the decisive victory. To their credit, the insurrectionists were well armed and well trained; however, they were greatly outnumbered. It helped also that the infantry’s
resolution weakened with each passing hour of the battle. Desertion was rife among them. By the time the battle was over, more than half their troops had fled into the hills.”
Earlington nodded. “How many dead?”
“Our army lost nine hundred fifty-three enlisted men, twenty-three officers, fourteen—”
Earlington stopped him. “Not us. Them. How many Scottish souls were lost?”
“Oh.” The general’s eyebrows came together in puzzlement. “Scottish losses numbered in the thousands, sir. At last count, approximately thirty-two hundred dead or wounded.”
Earlington’s expression collapsed in a beleaguered frown.
In the thousands.
He stood back up and went to gaze out the window at nothing. His mind skipped back to the day at Ramh Droighionn Castle, when he pleaded with the assembled soldiers to lay down their arms. His memory could still recall the faces belonging to those too old and too young to fight. They were the expressions of men opposed to war, but even more afraid of reprisals for speaking out against it.
The general shifted in his chair. “Ambassador, I must admit to a little surprise at your reaction. I would have thought you would exhibit much more satisfaction at hearing about the loss of your enemies.”
Earlington shook his head, his eyes closed to the prejudice. “The men who fought at Inverness are not my enemies, General. Nor are they yours. Had this escalated, it would have been nothing less than civil war. A war between brothers. Don’t ever forget who it was you really fought.”
The general was quiet for a few moments. “Nevertheless, I hope you at least applaud the suppression of the rebellion against the king’s majesty.”
Earlington sighed, and changed the subject. “What of the instigators? Skene, Kinross … McCullough?”
The general’s voice acquired a more triumphant note. “Skene and Kinross were killed on the battlefield. McCullough is not yet accounted for. If he is found alive, he will be arrested and sent to London to answer for his treason. Surely you are contented to be bringing your abductor to justice?”
“Yes. But not because he attacked me. It is because he and the others attacked the peace-loving Scottish people, using acts of violence and cruelty as political weapons.”
The general sucked in his cheeks. “If I may be so bold, Ambassador, each man on that battlefield had a choice. If he picked up a sword in defiance against the king, then he deserved to be put down as a subverter of the king’s peace.”
Earlington resumed his seat, and folded his hands upon his lap. “Peace exists where there is also justice. Something that the Scots do not enjoy in abundance.” Earlington inhaled sharply. “Which is why I intend to seek an audience with the Prince Regent and beg him to ask Parliament to repeal his tax on grain, and levy it instead on a different commodity. Perhaps this will alleviate the poverty of the Scottish people. And reconcile His Highness to his northern subjects.” Earlington nodded at his own course of action. “Yes, it will mean a lot coming from me.”
“As you wish. Will that be all, sir?” The general came to his feet.
“Thank you, General Frobisher,” he said, gripping the man’s hand. “I’m sure the Prince will reward you graciously for your victory in the Highlands.”
Earlington leaned back in the chair, lost in thought. Time slipped away as he contemplated the future.
“Father?”
He turned to look. In the doorway was his precious daughter. She was a reminder that his age and infirmity had rendered him incapable of protecting her; in fact, it was she who protected him.
“Serena!” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “Come in, come in.”
She went around the desk and behind his chair, and threw her arms over his neck. “I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning. How are you feeling?”
“Better each day. I woke early, and decided to write some letters.”
Serena clasped her hands in front of his chest. “You know that the doctor told you to rest,” she admonished.
“He’s just being overly cautious. I refuse to lay about like an old cat. I feel fine.”
“Why are you so headstrong?”
“You had to get it from someone.”
She planted a kiss on his cheek and sat down opposite him. “Are you feeling up to traveling back to London ?”
“Soon. But I don’t see why you shouldn’t journey ahead.”
“Actually, Father,” she began hesitantly. “I find that I really have no wish to return there.”
Earlington exhibited only a slight curiosity. “Oh?”
Serena’s eyebrows drew together. “You don’t seem very surprised to hear me say that.”
His face softened to bemusement. “Actually, Malcolm came to see me yesterday. It seems that he has a question he’d like to put to you.”
A blush colored Serena’s cheeks. “Ah.”
“Do you love him?”
The blush darkened. “Unfortunately, Father, I do.”
“I always suspected you’d be a begrudging bride,”
Earlington teased. “He’s a good man, poppet. And he loves you. Quite desperately.”
“He must. Since he’s met me, he’s been pummeled black and blue twice. I shudder to think what a lifetime with me will do to him. I don’t seem to be very good for his health.”
He laughed, and then his expression sobered. “You do know that tongues will wag. News of your marriage to a man with a profession will no doubt make the rounds in the parlor rooms of London.”
“I don’t plan to be around to listen to them.”
Earlington looked quizzically at her.
“I intend to be in London for the proclamation of the banns—and for the wedding, of course—but I wouldn’t want Malcolm to live there too long. Aside from the fact that he’d be a fish out of water there, I couldn’t stand it if he were somehow tarnished by any of Society’s foppery or foolishness.”
“You mean the way you were?”
She arched her eyebrows. “I won’t dignify that with an answer, Father.”
Earlington chuckled. “Where do you intend to live?”
“Er—”
He looked incredulously at her. “You’re not serious.”
Serena shrugged and bit her upper lip. “It does have its charms.”
His shoulders drooped. “After all this, you’re telling me you now want to
live
in Scotland?” He shook his head. “We’ll have to see about that, Serena. I’m not certain I like the idea of my only daughter moving to a distant and remote locale.”
“You mean the way you did?” she replied archly.
“I won’t dignify that with an answer, Serena.” He reached his arm across the desk and took her hand in
his. “What am I going to do without you? Home will seem so empty once you’re gone.”
A gleam flashed in her eyes. “That is precisely the point on which I came to consult you. I’ve been thinking very hard about the staffing in our household back in London, and I realized that we really do need another member to help run it.”
“What are you talking ab—”
“So I’ve taken the liberty of looking for an administrator to help keep our affairs in order. And I thought that you would like to interview the most promising candidate this morning.” She jumped up and went to the door.
Earlington sighed. “Serena, this really is too presumptuous of you. We really don’t need—”
His protests died on his tongue when he saw the figure in the doorway. Even though she almost disappeared under the tartan shawl and the plain gray bonnet, he recognized the lady immediately.
“Gabby.”
Her piercing blue eyes lit up like a fine Scottish sky. The corners of her mouth lifted, and her expression fairly illuminated when she laid eyes upon him. “Good morning, Commissioner Marsh.”
He could hardly speak. To him, she belonged to another time, a whole world away.
She gave a brief sidewise glance at Serena, and then returned her gaze to him. “’Tis good to see ye again, sir. And so fit. I trust ye’re well.”
That lovely lilt was like music to his ears. “Yes, quite well, thank you. Please come in.” He wanted to take her into his arms, but he didn’t dare. “How came you to … that is, how did you know I was here?”
“Miss Serena sent word to us. We were all worried
sick aboot what had happened to ye. I’m glad to see ye’re safe noo.”
Earlington looked Gabby Walker up and down, thinking her the rarest and most beguiling creature put on this earth.
Serena exhaled. “As you can appreciate, Father, knowing our desperate need for someone to take over the affairs that I once oversaw and of Mrs. Walker’s willingness to apply for the position, I simply had to fetch her straightaway. I understand that she is willing to relocate to London, and is amenable to the conditions of a long-term relationship in our household. I’ll withdraw now, and leave you two to discuss the terms in greater detail.”
Serena took hold of the doorknob and stepped outside the room. Slowly, she brought the door closer and closer to the jamb, until only a sliver remained through which to see.
Serena watched her father and Lord Askey’s former housekeeper. Without taking his eyes off Gabby, her father took her in his arms and held her firmly against his chest. His look of happiness was so great that it almost brought tears to Serena’s eyes. Gabby’s arms locked around him, too, and silently they held each other for a long time. She raised her head toward his, and their mouths connected in a loving, sensual kiss.
Serena shrugged mischievously at the joy she’d brought to her father’s life. She could almost sense his heart beating stronger already. He might not have many years left, but at least he had someone to live them for.
“What are ye doing?” The loud voice spoke over her shoulder, and she nearly cried out in surprise.
“Malcolm!” She spun around and clutched her chest in shock. “Don’t sneak up on people like that. You just about stopped my heart!”
He wrapped his hands around her hips and drew her body into his. “Well, we can’t have that. We shall just have to think of a way to start it back up again.” His head disappeared into her neck, and his hot breath warmed the shell of her ear.

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