03 - The Wicked Lady (25 page)

Right now he just wanted the pain in his chest to go away.

Kristen was worried sick.

Trevor had stayed in his study all last night and most of the day. Well, he'd have to come out sooner or later, she thought as she went downstairs to find him. He'd have to eat.

She rapped on the door. There was no answer. This time she knocked a little louder. Still no answer. She twisted the knob and barged inside. Enough was enough.

Kristen hadn't taken more than a few steps when she smelled the liquor. Her stomach tightened at the sour smell that filled the room. She almost heaved.

Not this
.

Not Trevor.  Please, God.  Don't do this.

She stared at him, her hand to her lips to keep from screaming.

Trevor slowly lifted his head off the desk. His eyes were bloodshot and a day's worth of stubble clung to his face. "It's you," he managed, slurring out the words.

She felt sick. She gagged. She was reliving a nightmare, and all the buried memories of abuse came flooding back to her. Why, Trevor, of all people?

"Here ye sit drunk!" Kristen waved her hand. "While I was worried tae death about ye!"

"You were worried about me?" Trevor's head lolled as he tried to focus. "And why was that? You afraid I'd break our little agreement now that Grandmother has passed on?" He sneered.

The question stopped her. "Nay, I'd not thought about that," she admitted. "I was worried about yer sorry hide because I hadn't seen ye since yesterday. 'Tisn't good tae keep all yer emotions bottled up inside ye."

Trevor staggered to his feet. "That is so touching, love." He started for her. If she were going to leave him, he'd make it easy for her to go. And deep down he knew that's what she wanted.

"Is it that hard tae believe that someone should care for ye?"
she asked.

"Now that you mention it . . . yes." He managed a sarcastic smile. "The only thing most people want from me is money."

Kristen held up her hand in front of her. "Don't ye come near me.  Yer drunk."

He bumped into a chair. "So I am."

"Do ye do this often?" Kristen asked, her voice shaking.

"Hardly ever," he admitted as he stopped in front of her, swaying as he searched for balance. "Kristen, we need to talk. It seems that I've found out you are related to that damned Johnstone."

That notion stopped her colder than the liquor. "What are ye talking about?"

"Your stepfather paid me a visit and told me a very interesting story about you. Seems you were taken from Johnstone's son and his wife when you were a wee babe," he said imitating her accent. "The woman you think was your mother was the maid."

"What?" Kristen's eyes grew wide with disbelief. "You're making this up. Why are ye lying tae me?"

"I only wish to God I were." Trevor nodded. "You are a very wealthy lady. You don't need me anymore." He gave a cynical laugh. "You probably never did."

"I dinna ken any of this."

Trevor grabbed her arm. "What's not to understand, Kristen. You
are
a bloody Johnstone. You shouldn't have been brought up in the streets. It was a grave injustice to you, and I'm simply giving you back your life."

"Ye knew I was a Johnstone when ye met me."

"There are many Johnstones, but if you recall you told me, yourself, your father was dead and couldn't possibly be related to my neighbors.

"So what am I tae do?"

"That's up to you, Kristen." He reached for her. He could feel the heat of her body beneath his fingertips. He needed to hold her one last time, but she jerked away from him as if his touch repulsed her.

She went very still "Yer drunk. Don't touch me!"

"Now I see." His jaw clenched, his eyes slightly narrowed. "You've no need for me now that you know you have a family and money. I suppose you won't be needing these." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief full of jewels. "You were planning to leave me all along. As soon as you had enough stashed away," he accused.

Kristen gasped.
He'd somehow found the stolen jewels, and he must have thought she'd been stealing all along. But she hadn't. She had kept her promise since coming to Chatsworth.

"
'Tis not what ye think," Kristen said.

"Isn't it? You promised not to steal! Didn't I give you everything you would need? And yet you still chose to steal from me."

"If ye'd let me explain--"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Why? So you could tell me more lies? Just when I thought we had something special, you managed to destroy what little belief I had." He shoved her away. "I don't want to see you anymore."

"Please." She reached for his arm.

Without thinking Trevor pulled her to him, his lips crushing down on hers in a punishing kiss. He would get her out of his system one way or the other.

He told himself to let her go, but he was already dragging her firmly against his hard body, his mouth savoring her sweetness. He wanted her just as badly now as he had the first time he'd laid eyes on her. Yet, he couldn't fathom why she could evoke such strong emotions in him when no other woman had. There seemed to be no logical explanation.

Her lips tasted so sweet, he didn't want to stop kissing her. He wanted to forget she'd deceived him, he wanted to forget who she really was, and he wanted, for once in his life, to be able to trust someone.

Kristen knew this kiss had begun with Trevor trying to punish her. For some strange reason Trevor was trying to push her away from him. But, somewhere along the line, the kiss had turned from hurting to softness. However, the smell of liquor once again brought back dreaded memories of beatings, her stepfather's sloppy kisses . . . his awful groping . . .

She didn't want Trevor like this. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

Trevor looked down at her kiss-swollen lips. He wanted to say something sweet, but the demons in his head brought out his doubts stronger than ever. "Why don't you go ahead and leave, too. Everyone else has," he snarled at her.

She stared at him, her eyes large and liquid. Trevor could see the hurt he'd caused. But it was better this way. Now they'd both have their freedom.

"What are you waiting for? Get out."

Tears streaked down her cheeks as she turned and ran from the room.

Why hadn't she argued?

Why hadn't she begged to stay with him? Trevor ran a hand through his hair, and then looked at the door in front of him. The door that Kristen had just passed through.

"It could have been so good, Kristen. It could have been--", Trevor slurred out the words. His legs seemed to melt beneath him. He saw the floor rushing up to meet him.

Then he saw nothing as he passed out and hit the floor.

Chapter Fifteen

Too numb to cry, Kristen fled to her room.

She quickly changed into a dark brown riding habit. She should have known everything was too good to be true. Just when she thought her life was changing and she'd begun to trust Trevor, he'd let her down. He'd turned toward the bottle to drown his problems instead of sharing them with her. She wanted no part of drinking.

She had to get out of this place before he became violent. She'd seen the routine too many times in the past, and she knew what would come next. And hadn't he told her to get out?

Grabbing a few dresses out of her wardrobe, she stuffed them into a valise, then hurried to Hagan's room and packed his clothes. She picked up the valise, looked around the room sadly, then hurried downstairs to look for Hagan. She checked several places before she finally found him in the servant's quarters playing with his friends.

"Come on, Hagan!" she said, sounding gruffer than she intended.

He scrambled to his feet and stumbled toward her. "What's wrong?"

"Dinna ask right now." She shoved a bag a
t him. "Hurry now," she urged, tugging on his hand as they hurried toward the stables.

"You're walking too fast, Kristen!"

Kristen realized she was practically dragging the child, and slowed down. "I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?  Where are we going?"

"We're leaving Chatsworth," Kristen stated firmly.

"I don't want to go.  I like it here."

"I like it here, too, but Trevor no longer wants us."

"Why?"

" 'Tis hard to explain. We are going tae meet my family. Hopefully, we can stay with them."

"We're going back to Pa?"

"No." She frowned at him. "I'll explain it all tae ye as soon as we're riding."

When they reached the stables, Baxter was quick in saddling the horses. "I will get a groom to accompany you, mum."

Kristen didn't bother to argue. She knew Ned was lurking out there somewhere, and there was no time to waste on words. Besides, she could send the horses back with the groom once she and Hagan reached their destination.

After they started riding, Kristen slowed her hor
se so she could talk to Hagan. She began explaining what she'd been told, and he listened patiently until she finished.

"I don't care what they say. You'll always be my sister."

"I know that, Hagan." She reached down and he reached up until their fingers touched. "I love you," she said. And, at the same time, she realized how she would have loved to hear Trevor say those words to her.

Hagan grinned. "Yea, I know."

With that, they urged the horses forward and galloped until Scotgrow, the Scottish house of her grandfather, came into sight. Kristen pulled up on her horse and gazed at the house in front of her. The building was long under a span roof with crow-striped gables and many chimneys. The most unusual things were the windows of all shapes and sizes, in all kinds of odd positions.

Kristen waited for the groom to catch up with her. "Ye can go back now. We'll not be returning."

"Are you sure, ma'am?"

She nodded
. "Yes." She nodded, climbing down from her mount and motioning for Hagan to do the same.

She watched as the groom rode away, taking with him her last contact with Trevor.

Once they reached the huge house, Kristen stood a moment until her legs, which had suddenly grown weak, could support her. She realized she was shaking and more than a little scared. However, she had come this far. She squared her shoulders and marched up to an archway which housed the main door.

She knocked.

The huge, black oak door opened slowly, and a medium-sized man dressed in a kilt stared at them. "What do ye be wantin'?" he said. Then he looked her over from head to toe.

"Look, Kristen, he has on a skirt." Hagan pointed, then giggled.

" 'Tis a kilt," the man said looking at Hagan from beneath bushy eyebrows. His gaze shifted to Kristen again, then his eyes widened.

"Saints above," he muttered. Turning, he shouted. "Ian, come quickly!"

Kristen had yet to utter a word, but she was beginning to think he was going to leave her on the doorsteps forever. What would happen to them if they were sent away? They would be back on the streets, and all of this would have been as real as a dream.

"
'Tis rude tae leave us standin' here," Kristen pointed out. "Are ye going tae invite us in?"

"Aye." He stepped back and swept his hand in an entry motion.

They moved passed him and stood in a huge hallway. Kristen and Hagan stared up at the banners hanging on every wall. The furniture seemed to be oversized, but there was color everywhere . . . bright reds and oranges. It was warm and inviting--a big difference from Chatsworth.

"What's all the bloody fuss, Darroch?" came a bellow from the far end of the great hall. The sound was followed by one of the largest men Kristen had ever seen.

When the man drew near, she could make out his features. His hair was grey, yet she could still see signs of its former red, giving her a glimpse of what his hair must have been like in his youth.  His eyebrows were bushy, his features harsh, but his eyes were exactly like her own.

As he stared at Kristen, a variety of emotions filtered across his face. Then his eyes sharpened, and he murmured in a voice hushed with disbelief, "Kristen?"

"Aye," she managed to squeak.

He scrutinized her a moment longer, then swept her into a bear-like hug and swung her around. "The Saints above!" He roared. "My prayers have been answered."

Kristen squealed with surprise.

"Don't hurt her!" Hagan shouted, trying bravely to protect her.

Raising a bushy eyebrow, Ian put her down and looked at Hagan. "And who is this little scamp?"

"
'Tis, Hagan," Kristen supplied as she put a hand on Hagan's shoulder. "He's my brother."

"I dinna think so," Ian said, "Since yer mother and da are both dead."

"Kristen is too my sister! Who are you?" Hagan demanded.