Stuart, Elizabeth (39 page)

He
glanced up. "Of course, we could dispose of him long before the case could
be investigated, but his death might cause suspicion—suspicion we can ill afford."

The
earl released a heavy sigh. "You're right, Blake. The most obvious
solution is seldom best. But, damn, it puts me on edge to have him strolling
about when I've no idea what he's up to!" He paused, staring blindly out
the window, where the morning rain splashed grayly against the glass.

"You'll
have him m'lord. But why this haste? It isn't like you."

"I've
waited a long time to have Scotland secure," Glenkennon said softly.
"Once we dispose of MacLean, we'll break the back of the opposition. Without
him, those half-clothed savages in the North will fall in line."

"Yes,
but no hint of blame must fall on you," Blake reminded him. "I can
arrange for the accident we discussed." His mouth twisted slyly. "It
can take place during the hawking party tomorrow as easily as a hunt."

"MacLean's
a known enthusiast of the sport. Yes... it should work," Glenkennon mused.
He whirled from the window. "That is, if his horse doesn't strain a
tendon. Christ's blood! Was there ever such luck?"

Blake
shrugged his narrow shoulders. "If this attempt fails, we can seize him on
some pretext or other before he leaves. I can find witnesses to swear to
anything if we've gold to loosen their tongues. While it's not the most politic
plan, at least we can keep our hands on him."

Glenkennon
poured himself wine from a crystal decanter on an ornate chest. "Do you
have him well guarded?"

Blake
nodded. "I'm keeping MacLean and his friend under constant watch."

"But
are you certain the guards can be trusted? I warn you, there must be no
mistake."

Blake
scratched his chin meditatively. "I'm using Godfrey, Smith, and young
Donaldson for the job. Their work's been dependable before."

Glenkennon
nodded. "They've served me well on past occasions." He stared into
his glass in perplexity. "I wish I knew what MacLean was up to. He didn't
come to Ranleigh to enjoy my company, and I don't believe his tale of
business."

Lifting
his glass, he gazed coldly over its rim at his steward. "I'll not be made
to look a fool by that arrogant barbarian, Blake."

"Of
course not, m'lord," Blake said smoothly, "but we've another problem
besides MacLean. I hate to mention it, but I've received another bill from the
merchant Murray MacDuff—this time with a letter insisting we make payment on
the debt owed him. His tone is ill considered; he actually hints he might
refuse you credit."

"Does
he now?" Glenkennon said, smiling darkly. "The man's even more a fool
than I thought."

"Yes,
m'lord, I'm afraid so. I've taken the liberty of composing a letter to him and
several other creditors, promising payment by next month. I've suggested they
reconsider any hasty words. It should suffice for a time."

"Yes,
by then I'll have the money," Glenkennon agreed. "I'll disclose the
new tax levy to my lords tomorrow night. We should have the first payment
within the fortnight."

Blake
raised his colorless brows. "And if the lairds refuse to pay?"

"The
tax will support my army, held here to protect them. They should pay it
gladly," Glenkennon snapped. "Every man present shall affix his name
to a document pledging support, else he'll not leave Ranleigh." He smiled
sourly. "Their wives and daughters are here, Blake... I anticipate little
trouble."

He
moved to his desk and sat down, leaning back in satisfaction. "Then
there's the payment we'll receive when Anne's marriage is arranged."

Blake
glanced toward him curiously. "Have you received an offer?"

"I've
been deluged with them all week," Glenkennon responded with a wave of his
hand, "but none of the scale I desire. Percy Campbell continues to play a
waiting game." He laughed coldly. "Christ's bones, you can simply
look at the man and tell he's hot to bed the girl. I'm certain he'll come up
with an agreeable offer by the end of the week."

"You
might consider waiting until Sir Charles Howard returns from Court," Blake
interjected. "I've word he's expected any day, and 'tis known he's on the
lookout for a young wife."

"Howard's
rich enough, and at an age he might be more willing to part with his
gold," Glenkennon mused. "Be sure we have immediate word of his
arrival. If nothing else, the hint of a rival might prod Campbell."

Blake
nodded and began gathering up the letters he had brought for the earl's
signature.

Glenkennon
sipped his wine meditatively, watching the colorless dab of a man whose mind
was as sharply devious as his own. "And what of you, Blake? I've noticed
you watching Anne a great deal. Do you want my daughter for yourself?"

Blake
continued organizing the correspondence on the desk, his manner poised, his
movements self-controlled. "I watch your daughter because you bid me do
so," he said without looking up. "My duty in that respect is a
pleasurable one—the girl's lovely. But I've no interest in such things. My life
is devoted to service to my house and lord..." He glanced up. "I've
no time for such foolishness."

For
a moment hard gray eyes clashed with orbs equally flinty, and neither man
looked away. Then Glenkennon threw back his head and laughed in genuine
amusement. "God's body, man, were you always so cold-blooded a
creature?"

"Always,
my lord," Blake said softly, his mouth lifting into its crooked smile,
"I've a much greater goal than the pleasure of a moment."

***

That
night, Anne sat quietly in her chamber... waiting. She had quickly snuffed
every candle save one after Bess left, placing it carefully across the room so
its tell-tale light would not be visible beneath the door. She told herself it
might be hours before Francis could come as he had whispered he would at
dinner, yet she started at every sound as the household settled down for the
night.

The
minutes stretched into an hour... then longer. Heavy shadows swathed the
doorway and every corner of the room. Anne closed her eyes, which burned from
the constant strain of staring at the door. Perhaps he'd not be able to come after
all.

A
draft of cold air swept Anne's legs. Her eyes snapped open. Francis stood
casually beside the door as if he belonged there. He slid the bolt home, then
crossed the floor to her in three long strides.

Anne
rose to her feet, lifting a hand to caress his dark face, needing that touch to
believe he stood before her.

"You've
been worrying again, lass, probably imagining me dead at every turn." His
slow smile fired a happiness that burst inside her like a flame. "What
must we do to break you of that habit?"

"Take
me away from here," she whispered, "and I promise I'll not worry
so."

His
tender gaze shifted from her eyes to her mouth then back again. "So I
shall." He cupped her chin with both hands, bending to kiss her with an
unhurried thoroughness that sent her world whirling. His arms slid about her,
crushing her close, while his lips gently brushed her hair.

Warm
and secure within the circle of his arms, she closed her eyes. "You don't
take my father seriously enough," she murmured. "He's determined to
be rid of you permanently, Francis."

"On
the contrary, love. I take Glenkennon very seriously." He took a step
toward the bed and sat down, drawing her onto his lap. "He's a dangerous
man to balk. If I'd not had a healthy respect for him since my boyhood, I'd be
dead now, most like. By the way, tell me how you stumbled across his plan to do
away with me."

"How
did you know it was me?"

"'Tis
easy enough to discover the maid to the lady of the house," he replied,
smiling. "I doubted I'd any other friends here who'd have risked sending
me such a message. But tell me, how did you learn the plan?"

"I
couldn't sleep that night, so I decided to fetch a prayerbook." She looked
away, remembering the lingering horror of that nightmare. "When I reached
Father's office, the door was ajar. I could hear Edmund Blake's voice, so I
listened, thinking he'd be telling Father about our meeting at the loch."
She clasped her hands together. "That's when I overheard Blake and...and
Father," she stumbled, "planning your 'accident.'"

"Look
at me, Anne," Francis said softly, lifting her chin toward him. "You
must promise you'll not wander about Ranleigh at night—for any reason. You must
stay inside this room with the door bolted after dark." His arms tightened
around her. "And you're not to make a move even if you think I'm in
danger. I've good men about who'll see to my safety."

She
shook her head stubbornly, knowing she would move heaven and earth to help him
if he ever had need of her.

He
took her face between both hands, his voice lowering earnestly. "Right now
Glenkennon holds the one weapon he could use to destroy me, Anne—and heaven
help us both if he should discover it. He'd not hesitate to abuse you to get to
me. Now do you understand?"

"But
he's my father, Francis," she protested. "Surely he'd do nothing to
cause me serious harm."

His
voice grew harsh. "Believe me, Anne, I know the man. He'd let no ties of
any kind stand in the way of tormenting me. I wish it weren't so, but he'd
cheerfully consign you to the devil if it'd give him his way."

"But
what if I'd not warned you? You might be dead now."

"I
already knew of his plan, lass."

"You
knew!" She struggled out of his arms and stood up. "But how could you
know?"

"I
can't answer that, lass. Just be thankful I've my ways."

She
shook her head ruefully. "All that worry, the risk I had Bess take—for
nothing."

He
caught her hand and drew her back beside the bed, his lips trembling on the
verge of a grin. "Not for nothing, love. That note gave me hope. I was
about to have done and go home, believing you wanted no more to do with me.

"You...
give up? I don't believe it," she said, smiling.

He
rubbed his cheek gingerly. "As I recall, you'd let me know earlier exactly
what you thought of me."

She
laughed softly, gazing down into her open palm. "I hurt my hand more than
your face."

His
hands shot out and caught her about the waist, toppling her across him full
length upon the bed. Rolling quickly, he penned her shoulders against the
coverlet. "I've been plotting my revenge these two days," he said
slowly, tiny flames leaping to life in the dark depths of his eyes. "I
must teach you that the proper manner in which to respond to a gentleman's kiss
is not with a sharp hand across his face."

His
look set her heart racing. She caught her breath, unable to force her lungs to
function properly as his hands dropped from her shoulders to her waist,
gathering her close against him. His mouth lowered slowly to make its claim,
his lips teasing, tasting, his tongue moving tantalizingly from the rim of her
mouth to its deepest recesses and back, sending a shiver of warmth and desire
radiating through her body.

His
tormenting kisses roused her. She needed more. Burying her fingers in the cool
silk of his hair, she held his head against hers until his mouth gave her the
satisfaction she craved.

He
raised his head at last, his eyes dark with passion. "That, lass, is a far
more acceptable way to respond to a man's kiss."

He
did not kiss her again, though she wished for it with all her heart. Instead,
he lowered his head to her breast, resting his face beneath her chin. She felt
his breath, warm and steady against her throat. His hands stroked slowly along
her sides, memorizing her form, moving in a way that awakened the familiar ache
she had come to expect from his touch.

She
cradled his head in her arms. "Could you stay... for part of the night, I
mean?"

"Nay
lass," he breathed, "it would mean my life. Conall's covering my
absence, and I promised I'd not be so long tonight."

She
closed her eyes, holding him tightly against her breast, refusing to dwell on
what could happen if he were discovered. "When must you leave
Ranleigh?"

"Tonight,
lass."

The
words struck her like a blow. "Tonight," she echoed, sitting up in
dismay.

"Aye.
Our plans are made, and I've but come to say good-bye."

She
pushed the hair back from her face and regarded him distractedly. Not yet, she
couldn't stand the thought of him leaving yet.

His
eyes were steady and reassuring on hers. "I'll be back before you know it,
lass. I promise," he said, catching her wrist and pulling her down against
his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. "You'll see me before a
month is out, I swear. In the meantime, you're to remember your own
promises."

She
nodded, feeling the powerful throb of his heart against her cheek. She
swallowed heavily. He was so alive —pray God he stayed that way.

"Keep
in mind I've friends about. Little happens at Ranleigh I won't know in a week
or ten days at most."