Cowboys and Highlanders (73 page)

The short, stout man gave her a crooked smile. “Quite all right, my dear.” He squeezed her hand.

Elise began wiping Andrea’s forehead.

“Where is Gerald?” Andrea asked.

Douglas glanced at the men who inspected the horse that had been pinned. “He is well, my dear. It looks as though he was able to save the horse.” Douglas looked up at Niall, who stood over the group. “Is there any sign of the other two horses?”

“They're not far.” Niall pointed to the trees to the right of the carriage. “I saw them in the forest.”

“Round them up,” Elise said.

Niall nodded to Donald, who took off in the direction of the horses.

“What happened?” Phoebe asked.

“We hit a hole earlier in the day,” Douglas replied. “When we stopped at the inn just down the road, they were supposed to have checked the wheels. The driver was sure he felt some unsteadiness in the rear, right wheel.”

“You’re lucky it was a front wheel that came off,” Phoebe said.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “Though, if those fools at the inn had done their job properly we wouldn't have needed luck. Damn it—pardon me ladies.” He inclined his head in apology, then cleared his throat and went on. “We were moving along at a nice trot when I heard a shriek from one of the horses. The next thing, the coach lurched and we went over.”

“We had better see to the repair of that wheel,” Phoebe said, then stopped and looked at Elise. “Provided, that is all right with you, Your Grace.”

“Your Grace!” Douglas burst out. He began struggling to his feet.

“Please,” Elise said, “don't move until our men can assist you.”

“Come on, man,” Niall said to Calders. “Let’s see to the wheel.” The two strode toward the carriage as Andrea sat up.

“Oh dear,” she said. “Your Grace, you must forgive us, we had no idea.”

Elise patted Andrea’s arm. “You’ve done nothing that requires my forgiveness.” She cast a sidelong glance at Phoebe, then leaned close and murmured, “Perhaps this will teach you to call me by name."

Phoebe's eyes widened in surprise, but she managed to stifle the mirth.

“Lord Douglas Ingersol at your service, Your Grace,” Douglas said and again attempted to gain his feet.

Donald returned and Elise nodded to him.

“Help Lord Ingersol to his feet, please.” She looked at Douglas. “Let’s get you two into our carriage. It's nearly dark. We have no idea how long the repairs will take and there's no need for us to sit on the wet ground.”

A few minutes later, Lord and Lady Ingersol, along with Elise, were tucked safely into the carriage. Phoebe went to the fallen carriage to see how the repairs fared.

“It doesn’t look as though we’ll be able to make repairs on the wheel here,” Calders informed her.

“The night is clear and the moon full,” Phoebe said. “There isn't enough light?”

“The wheel is cracked. It'll have to be repaired, or perhaps even replaced."

She nodded. "I'll tell the duchess." Phoebe hurried to the carriage. She opened the door and surveyed the occupants. “Niall and Calders inform me the wheel is cracked. The repairs can't be done here.”

Elise looked at Lord Ingersol. “It seems we must leave your carriage here. We'll have the wheel repaired and send Niall back with your men to bring it onward. The Orwell Inn is forty-five minutes ahead. We will stop there for the night.”

“Your Grace,” Lady Ingersol said, “we can't impose upon you.”

“Our men can deal with the repairs,” Lord Ingersol said. “You needn’t bother yourself any further.”

“Nonsense,” Elise said, “we'll make sure the carriage is brought safely to the inn this evening.” She addressed Phoebe. “Do you know how much longer we'll be?”

“Not long, I think. The horses are rounded up and Niall is loading the wheel. It looks as if your wheeler isn't seriously injured.”

Lord Ingersol looked relieved. “A good horse,” he said. “I would have hated losing him.”

“I'll have your trunks loaded onto our carriage and check on how much longer we'll be,” Phoebe said.

“If they can hurry?”  Elise said, and Phoebe nodded, then turned away and started for the other carriage where the men were already retrieving the trunks.

The company rode at a trot, Phoebe on horseback with the men. She regretted the little time they would lose by stopping at the inn, but after the time spent rescuing Lord and Lady Ingersol there was no question of pressing on. Perhaps they might leave early enough in the morning to recover some of the lost time.  Phoebe jarred from her thoughts when she realized that Niall had pulled his pistol from his waistband, even as she registered a rustle of leaves somewhere beyond the road. She wheeled around in unison with Niall to face the approaching rider.

“Halt,” growled Niall, his weapon aimed at the rider as he broke from the forest.

A cry went up from Calders, who had clearly spotted the newcomer, and Donald rounded the carriage.

The duchess’ carriage door swung open. “Phoebe,” Elise’s called. “Niall, what's happening?”

“By heavens.” Phoebe stared at the newcomer as he cleared the forest and moonlight illuminated his face. “What is he doing here?”

Chapter Seventeen

“Don’t shoot,” Phoebe cried. “I know this man.”

Niall didn't move a muscle. “Come forward ye bloody fool,” he said. “I’m not inclined to heed the lady until I see your weapon on the ground.”

Phoebe groaned. This is what an Englishman got for stepping onto Scottish soil. “Adam,” she called, “what in God’s name are you doing here?”

Adam reached into his coat.

“Careful,” Niall warned, and Adam opened his coat, revealing the pistol stuffed into his waistcoat. He lifted the weapon with forefinger and thumb and tossed it to the ground.

Calders came to a halt next to Niall. “What's he doing here?”

“You’ve no other pistol?” demanded Niall.

"No," Adam replied.

Phoebe whipped her head around at hearing someone alight from the carriage and saw it was the duchess. Lord Ingersol stepped from the carriage behind her, leaving his wife and Sue crowded in the doorway peering out.

“What's going on here?” Ingersoll asked as if he were in charge. “Do you know this man?”

Phoebe ignored him and turned back to the duchess' men. “Niall, put away your weapon. I’ve known this man since the schoolroom. Satisfy yourself that you've taught him not to sneak up on a carriage traveling at night. And you, Adam, thank God for a full moon or I might have shot you myself. Why are you skulking about in the forest?”

“I didn't care for this bend in the road,” he replied. “If I encounter a highwayman, I prefer being the one to catch him off guard.”

“It didn't occur to you that if you were to catch me off guard I might shoot you?”

“You didn't.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Elise approached. “Is that Mr. Branbury?”

“It is,” Phoebe replied, and started toward him.

He dismounted and came forward, meeting her halfway. “Phoebe,” he said, and she heard the tender note in his voice and realized his intent.

“Oh, Adam, you're only causing yourself pain by coming here.”

“Phoebe,” he began again, then looked at the crowd gathered. “Over here,” he motioned toward his horse, “I'd like a private moment.”

“Quite inappropriate,” Ingersol muttered.

“Phoebe,” Elise called. “Perhaps Mr. Branbury would care to join us at the inn?”

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace,” Adam gave a gallant bow.

“Indeed,” Elise said, surprising Phoebe with her icy tone. “Lord Ashlund won't appreciate his future wife being waylaid on the road.”

“Phoebe and I are close friends," he replied. "I would die to protect her honor.”

Elise raised a brow. “You damage her honor by insisting upon privacy.”

Even in the muted light of the moon, Phoebe saw his face redden.

“Here here, now,” Lord Ingersol came forward, “if the young lady is engaged to another man, what right have you to be bothering her?”

Adam stiffened and looked pleadingly at Elise. “It is of the utmost importance that I speak with Phoebe. I will keep her but a moment.”

“Phoebe,” Elise began, but Phoebe stopped her.

“Your Grace, Adam is an old friend. I owe him, at the very least, a moment of my time. We will only be a few feet away. Rest assured, Mr. Branbury’s intentions are honorable.” She turned and started toward the trees. “Don't dally, Adam,” she said in a whisper. “One of them is bound to protest in earnest at any second.”

Adam hastened to follow her.

When they reached the edge of the tress, Phoebe whirled. “What in God’s name is wrong with you?”

“Phoebe—”

“No,” she said, “don’t bother explaining, it’s quite clear why you're here, not only to me, but to every person standing over there.”

“I had no idea there would be such an entourage. Phoebe.” He took her hand in his.

“Please, Adam, don't do this.” She tried to pull free, but he held tight and took a step deeper into the trees.

He stopped within the shadows and blurted, “We could reach Gretna Green in a few hours.”

“Adam—” she started, but the despair in his voice halted the intended retort. “Adam,” she said more softly, and squeezed his hand, “you worry me. I've never seen you like this.”

“Desperation drives a man.”

A strange pang went through her. “I have never misled you.”

“There was a time…”

“Once, yes, but we were young. How often have I explained it was infatuation?”

“You deemed it infatuation after reading your father’s letter,” he retorted.

Phoebe stiffened. Adam and Alistair were the only two people who knew about the letter. She regretted both.

“I care for you. Adam, but you go too far.” She added in frustration, “For God’s sake, why force me to hurt you? I have always been honest with you.”

He dropped her hand as if he held hot coals. “Honest with me? You're not honest with yourself. How am I to believe you are capable of being honest with me?”

“You have the most abominable way of making me wish I had shot you.”

“How does your future husband feel about your quest, Phoebe?” Adam demanded, and she was startled to realize how much he knew about her. Worse, how obvious she'd been in regards to her feelings about her father.

“I have had enough.” She whirled, but he caught her arm.

“Oh, no you don’t. Answer me."

An instant of silence passed.

“I’ll be damned,” he breathed. “You haven’t told him.”

She jerked her arm free and turned to go.

“That's unfair, don’t you think?” he snapped. “Doesn’t the poor fellow have the right to know your heart belongs to another man?”

Phoebe whirled. “How dare you?”

“Phoebe,” Adam said, his voice suddenly soft, “I know what your father means to you. Fool that I am, I would share you with him. Can your new love say that?”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I can change nothing.”

“You know why. I love—"

The deafening roar of a shot rang out and Adam staggered backward a pace.

“Adam?”

Phoebe stood frozen for an instant, confused, then, lunged toward him. She grabbed his outstretched hand. He gripped her fingers, then his hold slackened and he slumped against her. His knees buckled and Phoebe caught him, his weight dragging her down with him. They landed together, her on her knees, him cradled in her arms.

Adam grasped her hand. “Phoebe.” The word was a mere whisper.

Something warm spread across her abdomen and she touched the sticky substance seeping from his chest.

He grabbed her shoulder, dragging her face closer to his. “I'm sorry.”

“No, no, quiet,” she said through tears.

“I—" Adam coughed hard "—love—"

He went limp.

“Adam.” She felt for a heartbeat, her hand wet with blood, but found no pulse thrumming against his neck. “Dear God. Adam. No!”

An unexpected sound penetrated her mind. The pounding of boots on ground? Phoebe looked up, barely able to focus on the two men who skidded to a halt beside her. She hugged Adam, ignoring the iron grip on her arm. She shook the hand off, then glanced sharply up. The drawn pistol the man held registered in her brain.

“Why?” she cried, and lunged for his weapon.

“Phoebe!” Kiernan jerked the pistol aside, sending the shot into the darkness. “Mather!” he shouted as Phoebe wrestled for the gun.

“I’m all right, sir,” he called. “You missed me by at least an  inch.”

Phoebe’s grip slipped and Kiernan’s chest clenched at the realization that the slick warmth on her hands was blood. He wrenched the pistol free of her grasp, then stuffed it into his waistband and went down on his knees beside her.

“
Phoebe
.” He gripped her shoulders. "Are you hurt—did he hurt you? Who is he?"

“Miss!” a man called from the edge of the trees.

“Phoebe.” Kiernan felt her face, her neck and down her bodice, but found no wound or blood soaked fabric. His mind raced. Had the man she still hugged been shot? "What happened?" Kiernan demanded.

The noisy pounding of feet on the ground was followed by Elise calling, “Phoebe,” as she hurried into view.

“Back, Duchess,” Niall shouted, and shoved past her, then stopped. “Laird?”

Phoebe looked at his stepmother. “Elise, I—he—”

With one hand, Kiernan crushed Phoebe as close as he could, given that she kept a tenacious hold on the man. With the other hand, he felt for a pulse on the man's neck. Nothing. Two other men appeared beside Niall.

"Phoebe," Kiernan said, but she shook her head violently. He grabbed her to lift her, but she struck out at him.

“No,” she cried, but he yanked her up. The man slid from her lap. “Adam.” Phoebe clutched at him as Kiernan lifted her into his arms.

He hugged her, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. Hot and wet, her tears bathed his skin. “Bring him,” Kiernan ordered Mather.

Mather hoisted Adam over his shoulder.

“Duchess,” Niall said, and she led the way past the onlookers out onto the road.

Kiernan headed for their coach.

A woman standing near the carriage shrank back as he passed. “She shot him,” she gasped an instant later when Mather appeared carrying the dead man.

Calders ran ahead and opened the carriage door for Kiernan.

“Goodness,” Sue exclaimed, and scooted away from Kiernan. “What—”

“Get out,” he ordered.

The girl’s eyes widened and her gaze flicked to the blood that stained his shirt and Phoebe’s bodice. She scrambled from the carriage and Kiernan stepped into the compartment. Elise followed, slamming the door behind her.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” he demanded, settling back and enfolding Phoebe closer.

Elise shook her head. “I'm not sure. Phoebe was speaking with Mr. Branbury. Suddenly, there was a shot and,” she looked anxiously at Phoebe, whose crying had softened, “and the next thing we knew, we saw you with her. What happened?”

“I'm as confused as you. I was following the carriage with the intention of catching up not long after you left the inn, but I found tracks that led off the road. I became concerned it was highwaymen. This Branbury—Adam—what was he doing here?”

Phoebe gripped the lapels of Kiernan’s coat. “Why? Why?” she demanded.

“Shh, love.” Kiernan stroked her hair. He looked at Elise. “What the hell was she doing with him?”

“We tried to stop her. It was clear he had come to talk her out of marrying you.”

“And you didn't stop her?” he snarled, then, “Bloody hell. Forgive me, Elise.”

“Never mind," she said. "I met Mr. Branbury at Shyerton Hall. He didn't seem violent. Did he try to force her to go with him?”

Phoebe abruptly sat up and tried to shove from Kiernan’s lap.

“No.” He held her tight.

“Release me,” she hissed, and batted at his chest with a vehemence that startled him.

Kiernan hesitated, then complied. She flung herself to the seat across from him, beside Elise.

“Why—" A sob broke past her lips.

“Phoebe.” He leaned forward.

“Don’t.” She scooted to the corner away from him.

Kiernan exchanged a confused look with Elise.

“You didn't shoot him?” Phoebe asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Damnation, of course not. Why would I?”

“Perhaps you thought the situation was something it wasn’t?”

“Such as?”

“If you thought he was a lover.”

“If you wanted him, I wouldn't have stopped you,” Kiernan replied. "You assured me you'd known him since childhood, but weren't interested in him."

“You didn’t know who he was. You once told me I could come as go as I please, so long as I had
no secret assignation
.”

Kiernan pulled the pistol from his waistband and extended it toward her, butt first. “You heard the single shot. There was no time for a reload.”

Phoebe’s mouth twisted. “That is not the only pistol you own.”

He stuffed the gun back into his waistband. “Do you honestly think I shot him?”

“Kiernan,” Elise said in a calm voice.

He looked at her, then returned his gaze to Phoebe. “I assumed you shot him in self-defense.”

Phoebe lifted her chin. “Adam would never hurt me.”

Kiernan raised a brow. “This is the same Adam you said tried to kidnap you the night I kidnapped you?”

“He didn't send those men.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Phoebe turned her head aside.

“Miss Wallington,” he snapped. Her eyes jerked to meet his and his heart wrenched at the pain he read on her face. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a handkerchief. “Here, take this.”

She glanced at his hand, took the handkerchief, then blew her nose. “Adam's response when I mentioned that night proved he knew nothing.” She wiped her eyes. “I have never known him to lie. In fact, I thought it was him only because I could think of no one else, but kidnapping isn't in his nature. He was—" she hiccupped a small sob and Kiernan felt his heart constrict "—he was as you saw him tonight.” Tears streamed down her face. “He came here, faced the wrath of a duchess, to beg me once again to marry him.” She lifted her chin. “I wasn't
in
love with him, but I did love him.”