To Tame a Highland Earl (12 page)

He disappeared back into the coach, leaving
the door open. Her kidnapper lurched into motion. In three steps,
he reached the vehicle and stuffed her inside. Confusion washed
over her as the door slammed shut, leaving her alone with Lord
Halifax.

*****

Erroll's kidnapper pounded on the top of the
carriage and they slowed, then stopped.

"What is it?" someone called from the rider's
seat.

The door swung open and Erroll grimaced at
sight of the brute, who lowered his head as he stepped from the
coach. The man was even bigger than his voice suggested. However,
the bigger they were, the harder they fell—though getting them to
fall was a task he was getting too old to relish. Erroll glimpsed
the bulge in the brute's pant leg at his ankle in the instant
before the foot left the step and hit the ground. No good criminal
went anywhere without a knife. That was Erroll's first piece of
good luck tonight.

The brute turned around. "My companion has a
pistol pointed at you. So no funny business."

Erroll canted his head in acknowledgement. So
he now had to deal with a pistol. Not that he'd expected any
different. However, he felt relatively certain the men weren’t
experienced kidnappers. The cut of the brute's coat said he was no
pauper. Not to mention, Erroll had never heard a criminal call his
partner in crime 'my companion.' The brute's speech was more
educated than the average gutter rat, which piqued Erroll's
curiosity as to who their employer could be.

The brute leaned into the doorway, untied
Erroll's feet, then straightened and motioned him out. "Come on,"
he said.

Erroll stepped from the carriage and
recognized the deserted road. They were headed north from
Manchester. It was a clear night with a full moon and the coach had
been traveling at a good clip. By his calculations, they had
probably traveled about fifteen miles. Chances were, they'd left
the party no more than an hour and a half ago. The brute had agreed
to allow Erroll to relieve himself, which meant they were far
enough from their destination that the man knew Erroll wouldn't be
able to wait.

The brute made no move to untie his hands,
and Erroll said, "My trousers are not going to open themselves and
my cock will need to be pointed in the right direction."

The man gave him a deprecating look and spun
him around to face the carriage. Erroll realized he had bent to get
the knife strapped to his ankle. He straightened then grasped
Erroll's wrist and sawed at the ropes. Erroll glanced up at the
driver who, as the brute had warned, held a pistol. The rope
abruptly fell away and Erroll pivoted as he threw an uppercut to
the brute's jaw. Erroll wrenched the knife free in unison with the
crack of his fist against the man's face.

The driver shouted "Oscar!" as the brute's
head snapped back.

Oscar drove a punch aimed for Erroll's gut,
but Erroll sidestepped the fist and jabbed twice at Oscar's nose.
Erroll threw an arm around Oscar's neck and swung around behind
him, jamming the knife point against his neck. Oscar froze.

"Throw down the pistol," Erroll ordered the
driver.

The driver eyed Oscar, who said, "He won’t
stab me."

"But I will," Erroll said. "Only you will not
die right away, maybe not at all—if you reach a doctor quickly
enough." Erroll looked at the driver. "Throw down the pistol."

The man tossed the weapon to the ground.
Erroll shoved Oscar away from him, then took one step and scooped
up the weapon.

He stepped back and said to the driver, "Come
down from there."

The man complied and joined Oscar.

"Now," Erroll said, "who hired you to kidnap
me?"

Neither man answered.

"I am in no mood for games," Erroll
warned.

"I said this was a hair-brained idea," the
driver said.

"Quiet," the brute growled.

"It would be best if you told me what this
hair-brained idea is all about," Erroll said.

"Best for who?" Oscar asked. "Not us."

"I beg to differ." Erroll pulled back the
pistol’s hammer.

The brute gave a derisive snort. "You got one
shot. The man left standing will kill you."

"I am skilled with a knife," Erroll said,
though he didn't think they would kill him. "However, the question
is, are you two willing to wager that it will not be you I kill
with my one shot?”

"You won’t shoot us any sooner than you would
stab me," Oscar said.

Erroll lifted a brow. "Indeed? If that is the
case, why haven’t you attempted to take the pistol from me?"

"Because I don’t want to take a bullet, even
if it is in the leg."

"So I will wound you, but won’t kill you?"
Erroll asked.

The brute shrugged and Erroll couldn't help
wondering if he wasn't getting old. There had been a time when no
one at the opposite end of a pistol he held doubted he would shoot,
if necessary.

"Into the coach," Erroll ordered.

The men exchanged a glance, then the brute
asked, "Why?"

"As you have deduced, I see no need to kill
you—though wounding you wouldn't bother me in the least. I have no
choice but to turn you over to the authorities. My father will see
to it they discover who hired you to kidnap me."

The diver's eyes widened and Oscar's forehead
furrowed in uncertainty, but he said, "We never said anyone hired
us."

"And I never said I wouldn't shoot to kill,
but you were astute enough to reason it out. Now be good lads and
get into the coach."

They didn't move.

"Surely protecting your employer is not worth
getting shot?"

Oscar's lips thinned, but the other man
shifted nervously.

"I will double what your employer is paying
you," Erroll said.

"We are not traitors," the brute shot
back.

"I don’t want to spend the next ten years in
Newgate," the driver said.

"You will not spend one night in prison,"
Oscar said.

"You underestimate me,” Erroll said. “You
gentlemen and your employer shall spend a great many years in
prison. Even if I were disposed otherwise, my father will not be so
lenient."

Hesitation and fear, the first Erroll had
seen from the brute, appeared on his face.

"David and I will take any punishment you
give, as long as you promise not to involve our employer," he
said.

"Hold on there," David burst out. "I never
agreed to prison."

"Be quiet," the brute growled. "You knew the
risks." He returned his attention to Erroll. "Do we have your
word?"

"You do," he replied, his curiosity intense.
He had to know what sort of employer would engender such devotion
that the brute was ready to face prison.

"Renege on your word and I’ll break out of
prison and kill you," the brute said.

Erroll blinked, then laughed. "Never fear, I
wouldn’t think of going back on my word. Facing such a righteous
wrath would be far too taxing."

The brute nodded, then surprised Erroll by
speaking the one name he wouldn't have suspected in a hundred
years, and the very name he
should
have suspected.

*****

Despite the malice in Lord Halifax’s gaze,
Eve tried to relax on the seat opposite him. From the corner of her
eye, she glimpsed a passing coach and shifted to find Lady
Middleton staring as the vehicles passed within a foot of each
another. Lord Halifax abruptly leaned forward and Eve caught the
widening of the woman’s eyes in the instant before he yanked the
curtain closed. Eve considered crying out, then realized the earl
would be upon her in a flash and no doubt would silence her with
the back of his hand.

He settled back onto his cushion, and Eve
smiled as if nothing was wrong. "Forgive me, my lord, but I do not
understand what is happening."

"Rushton must learn to mind his own
business."

A cold ribbon of dread threaded through her
veins. "If you are referring to the encounter in the gardens, I
think there is a misunderstanding. Lord Rushton did not interfere.
Lady Gallagher parted company with you of her own accord. You are a
gentleman, I cannot believe you would have pursued her."

"What I would have done is no more your
concern than it is Rushton's."

“
Of course not,” Eve
answered. "I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. What sort of jest do
you have in mind to teach him this lesson?" She giggled. “I love a
good joke, and I must admit that I would not mind putting one over
on him.”

"You shot the man. You have no more love for
him than I do." His expression turned speculative. "Perhaps
kidnapping you was unnecessary. You might be a willing
participant."

"Indeed, sir. As I said, I love a good joke.
What have you in mind?"

"I have in mind to whisk you off to Gretna
Green."

*****

A little more than an hour later, Erroll
stood in Lady Grendall’s ballroom. He was going to settle things
once and for all, though how he was to deal with a hoyden willing
to kidnap a man in order to avoid marriage was beyond his scope. He
still couldn’t believe she thought she could marry him off to her
sister. The ridiculous scheme outdid all others devised by even the
most determined mammas who had tried to marry him to their
daughters.

He scanned the room for Miss Crenshaw but
found no sign of her, which meant she could have moved onto any one
of a dozen other parties going on tonight. He would be wiser to
confront her tomorrow, but the thought of waiting frustrated him
all the more, not to mention, he wanted a confrontation that didn't
include her father. If he didn't catch her tonight, God only knew
when the next opportunity would arise to waylay her.

From the corner of his eye, Erroll caught
sight of Somerset striding toward him. Judging from the man's
stride, he intended to accost him. Damn the fool. Erroll had no
time—or inclination—to deal with Miss Crenshaw’s spurned lover. Is
that what Somerset was, a spurned lover? The idea fueled Erroll's
frustration and he experienced a strong desire for a boxing match
in which he would lay the man flat on his arse.

The viscount reached him, and Erroll said,
"I'm in no mood for your lectures, Somerset. I advise you find
someone else to bully. I have had my fill for the evening."

"Enough of the theatrics," Somerset
snapped.

Erroll eyed him. "I am never guilty of
theatrics."

"I am happy to settle whatever petty
grievance you have on the dueling field," Somerset replied.

Who is prone toward theatrics?
Erroll
wondered.

"But for now," the viscount went on, "I want
to know what you have done with Eve."

"Nothing—
yet
." His inclination that
first night had been correct: he should have throttled Miss
Crenshaw when he had the chance.

"I left the alcove with you," Somerset said.
"That was over three hours ago."

"I warned you about being so familiar with
Miss Crenshaw," Erroll said. "Did it occur to you that she and her
mamma simply moved on to another party?"

Erroll had concluded that being seen at as
many parties as possible was part of her plan. That way, no one
could accuse her of being with him or being associated with his
kidnapping. The woman was as skilled at scheming as she was with a
gun. What other wicked skills did she hide? If their brief
encounters were any indication, he had yet to discover a good many
of those talents. Given the trouble she’d already put him to, he
deserved the chance to root out the most sinful of her gifts.

"Lady Crenshaw hasn't been seen since I left
her with you," Somerset said.

Erroll's attention snapped onto him. "What?”
Before the viscount answered, Erroll said, “Where is Lady
Crenshaw?"

As if he'd conjured the woman, she appeared
at his side.

"Lord Rushton, oh, but I am so relieved to
see you. I cannot find Eve." She glanced around the room, her brow
furrowed as her eyes came back to him. "I am so worried.”

Erroll gave her a reassuring smile. "No need
for concern, madam. Your daughter is well. I saw her not long ago.
Leave it to me, and I will find her for you"

Relief washed over her face. "Oh, thank you.
I will leave her in your capable hands."

Erroll nodded. The wench would find herself
in his capable hands soon enough and he knew exactly what he would
do to her.

Chapter Seven

Eve stared at Lord Halifax. "Gretna Green? I
love a good joke, but this goes too far. I will not marry you
simply to thwart Lord Rushton."

Lord Halifax gave a derisive laugh. "I have
no intention of marrying you."

"Then why go to Scotland?" Several answers
came to mind, each more insane than the last.

"Rushton will not be able to marry you if you
elope to Scotland with another man," Lord Halifax answered.

"You have miscalculated, sir. His lordship
has no wish to marry me. All you’re doing is providing him a reason
to cry off."

"You obviously do not know Rushton."

"No," she began slowly, "but I do know that
he doesn’t want marriage—to anyone."

"True," Lord Halifax agreed. "But the pompous
bastard values his pride above all else. He would gladly use you,
then discard you without thought. But he will not countenance you
preferring marriage to another man."

"I feel certain he will not mistake my
abduction for a desire to marry you."

The malice returned to his eyes. "I am not
the first man with whom you eloped. Ruston will believe it."

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“
Word of our elopement will
spread as quickly as did the fact you shot Rushton,” he said, “and
everyone will believe that you will do anything to avoid marriage
to him."

He was right.
Society
would gobble up
the story with relish. Eve had known the scandal with Lord Rushton
would force her from London society, but a supposed elopement that
ended without marriage would make her persona non grata in all
polite circles.