Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance (39 page)

A chill went through him.

“Let’s go back to the town house and begin again there, since it’s the last place
anyone saw her,” Daniel said.

“There is no need. I shall continue the inquiry on my own.”

Daniel’s jaw went tight. “Nae, you willna do any such thing. She’s my wife and I’ll
no’ rest until I find her.”

“She’s not your wife for long.”

“Maybe no’, but she is today and you’ll no’ keep me away, prince or no prince.”

The other man’s eyes widened, affront burning in them as if no one had ever spoken
to him in such a manner. Then a begrudging gleam of respect replaced the anger and
he nodded. “Very well, Major, we will find her together.”

With a truce formed between them, however temporary, he and the other men left the
inn.

Symms met them in the entry hall. “Your Royal Highness, this came for you while you
were out.”

He extended a single, plain white note on a silver tray.

The prince accepted the missive and slit it open then and there, reading the contents.
Wordlessly he handed it to Daniel.

Daniel clenched one hand into a fist after he read the short letter, fear and fury
twining like a pair of snakes inside him.

A moment later, Lyndhurst strode out of the drawing room, followed by his wife and
Princess Ariadne, their faces creased with concern.

“We arrived back only a couple of minutes ago,” Lyndhurst said. “What is this the
servants have been telling me, that Mercedes is missing?”

Daniel shook his head. “Nae, no’ missing. She has been kidnapped.”

It was all his fault. He’d known she was in danger, known the men who’d tried to take
her before were ruthless and determined. He’d assumed she was safe here under her
father’s protection, but it had not been enough.
God forgive me,
he thought,
I should never have left her alone.

But he would find them, and when he did, they would wish they had never been born.

Lyndhurst had just taken the note from his hand when another man approached, his pace
quickened. He stopped next to the prince and gave a short bow.

“Your Royal Highness,” he began. “If we might speak.”

“You may do so here.”

The man paused, then continued. “In our search for the princess, another matter has
come to light, one that I thought significant enough to mention.”

“Yes, and what is that?”

“It is Lang, sir.”

“What about him?”

“He is gone. No one has seen him since Princess Mercedes disappeared.”

M
ercedes came gradually awake, her head throbbing as if it were about to split in two.
Whimpering against the pain, she moved to raise her hands to her head only to discover
that she could not—her wrists were bound. She twisted, testing, and found that her
ankles were tied as well. She was, she realized, trussed up as tight as a Christmas
goose.

Her heart raced in frantic beats at being restrained and even harder when she remembered
the garden and how she had come to be in this situation. Her tongue tasted fuzzy.
Whatever drug they’d use to subdue her was still bitter, an acrid medicinal scent
lingering in her nose.

She swayed slightly, unable to see anything beyond the worn leather coach seat on
which she was lying. They’d laid her so that her face was turned toward the seat back,
her neck wedged at an uncomfortable angle.

She shifted against her bonds again, trying to find a better position, trying to see
as well if there was any give in the ropes that tied her tight.

There was not.

“’Ere, now, quit yer strugglin’,” ordered a rough voice. “If ye’re not careful, ye’ll
fall off that seat.”

The coach swayed again, rocking her enough to make her realize he was right. She lay
quiet again, closing her eyes against her pain and misery.

They’d taken her, snatched her right out from under her father’s nose. Obviously Lang
was involved or else they would never have managed to get close enough. She shuddered,
aware that whoever had taken her must be linked to the men who had tried to abduct
her before.

“Who are you?” she demanded in as brave a voice as she could manage. “And where are
you taking me?”

The man let out a cackle. “Well, wherever it is, I’m not about to tell ye, any more
than I’d give ye me name. Now just lie there like a good girl and do as ye’re told.
I’m not the sort what likes to hurt women as a general rule, but I will if ye give
me cause.”

A tremor went through her at the threat, but she refused to be cowed. “My father will
find me and punish you severely. If you have any wish to keep your own skin intact,
you will stop this coach and release me.”

The man gave another laugh. “The prince will do as he’s told to or he’ll never see
ye again. Too bad ye don’t still have that Scot of yers with ye. Now, he was a fighter.”

He knew about Daniel? Did that mean he’d been one of the men in Scotland? Had he followed
them all the way to London?

At mention of Daniel, her spirits sank, tears welling up in her eyes. She sniffed
them away, knowing she couldn’t afford to give way to her emotions, not here, not
now. There would be time for such things later.

She hoped.

But oh, how she wished Daniel were here in England and trying even now to find her.
But he would have no idea that she had been kidnapped. How could he when he must have
departed for Scotland days ago?

How long would it be until he found out she had been taken? Would she die without
him even realizing what had happened to her? If things went badly, her father would
inform
him. And if he did not, Emma and Ariadne would find a way.

But she must stop being so maudlin. She didn’t know that they intended to kill her.
At the moment, she didn’t know what they were planning to do.

“At least tell me how much farther we have to go,” she said. “These bonds are most
uncomfortable. You wouldn’t loosen them for me, would you?”

“Not bloody likely. The boss would kill me if I untied ye and ye got away again.”

The boss. So he wasn’t the one in charge, then? And he mentioned getting away
again
. Another reason to think he had been one of her pursuers in Scotland.

“As for how long,” he admitted, “it’s not too much longer.”

The sun had not fallen yet, so they couldn’t have been traveling for too much time.
Then again, it was summer and the days were long. Maybe she was deceiving herself.
She had been unconscious for what might have been hours. For all she knew, they were
miles away from London by now.

She thought of Daniel again and wished with all her heart that he knew about her plight.
Their marriage might be over, but she knew he would never want to see her harmed.

She tried to relax, knowing there was no use wasting her energy at the moment. Maybe
later, an opportunity would arrive for her to escape, but for now, she must endure.

Closing her eyes, she thought only of Daniel, as she had not allowed herself to think
of him all this past week. She’d been too wounded before to let herself dwell on the
love she had found and lost, on her ruined hopes and dreams for their future together.

But who knew what these men had in store for her, or what they wanted? This might
be the only time she had left to remember Daniel and everything he meant to her in
spite of his desertion.

And so she concentrated on the good times she’d known with him, drifting on the sweet
memory of his kisses and the joy she’d
experienced on their wedding day—the best day of her life.

She was in a not entirely miserable haze when the coach slowed and came to a stop.
Moments later, the coach door opened and a pair of large, calloused hands reached
in to drag her out of the vehicle. As the man caught her up against his body, he took
the opportunity to cup one of her breasts and give it a squeeze.

Enraged at being handled in such a repugnant manner, she kicked back with both feet
and had the satisfaction of connecting with his shins.

He shouted in pain.

His arms tightened around her ribs in retaliation and abruptly she couldn’t breathe.

“Let her alone,” said the man who’d ridden with her in the coach. “If ye harm her,
the boss will have yer head, quite literally.”

“Don’t give me orders. Ye’re not in charge here.” But his grip eased up and she gasped,
dragging in ragged gulps of air.

“Neither are you. Get her inside before someone sees.”

“But there isn’t anyone to see. We’re good and alone here.”

And he was right. When she looked around, except for a small, run-down cottage, there
was nothing but forest in all directions.

She was carried inside and tossed onto a bed. The mattress smelled of dust and mice.
They made no effort to untie her.

She looked at the two men, having her first opportunity to study them. She’d never
seen the brute who’d touched her, but she had the oddest feeling she had seen the
other man somewhere—his pockmarked face was rather hard not to notice. She had a vague
memory of him from one of the inns. Surely he hadn’t been one of the brigands who
had trailed her in Scotland? The notion made her shiver.

While the brute busied himself with the fire, the other, odd little man walked toward
her. She braced herself for whatever it was he planned to do. But he simply unfolded
a blanket over her.

“Ye’ve got spirit—I’ll say that fer ye,” he told her in a near whisper, leaning close.
“And ye’re prettier even than yer drawin’.”

What drawing?

Then she thought of the miniature Daniel had found on the dead man. Good God, they
must have used it to track her.

“My father will find me and see you hanged. Please, let me go.”

For a moment, she thought she saw a trace of regret. “Sorry, but I can’t do that,
Your Highness. Ye see, if I were to let ye flee, I’d be dead anyway. Lie there and
stay quiet. I’ll bring ye something to eat as soon as it’s ready.”

Then he moved away.

Closing her eyes, she fought the urge to weep.

Daniel dragged a weary hand over his face, tired to the bone but far too on edge to
sleep. How could he rest when Mercedes was missing and being held captive? How could
he relax when he was frustrated to the marrow over the inaction of not knowing how
to find her or even where to look?

They’d searched the house and garden thoroughly, looking for any clues. He’d even
brought Robbie along to see if the dog could pick up a stray scent. When they’d entered
the garden, the animal had gone straight to a small door in the rear of the property,
where he’d scratched and whined. They’d soon discovered the open lock on the gate
and realized that was where her abductors must have carried her out. Next, they’d
searched every inch of Lang’s room, but the man had been careful, leaving nothing
of significance behind. His involvement in the entire scheme was as yet unknown.

Another full day had passed since then, a day of sheer hell while he’d waited and
worried along with the others.

He’d been surprised when the archduchess had ordered a bedchamber made up for him
that first evening, insisting he remain with them in the town house.

“Mercedes is your wife, which means you are family,” she’d told him, as if there had
been no talk of divorce. “Of course you shall stay.”

“Yes,” agreed Princess Ariadne. “She would want you here, doing everything possible
to aid in her recovery.”

Lyndhurst had concurred, offering whatever assistance he could provide.

Even the prince had not objected, his disapproval of Daniel as a son-in-law set aside
for the time being. Needing to be close should word arrive, Daniel had lowered his
pride and consented to stay. The only thing that was important now was Mercedes and
finding the means to bring her home safely.

In the long hours to follow, he’d tormented himself with the possibilities, wondering
how she was, whether she was hurt and hungry and in what kind of conditions she was
being kept. As for anything worse, he refused to let himself dwell on that.

She was alive; he would have sensed it if she were not. But even if he was being stubbornly
optimistic, her abductors gained nothing by harming her. For now they needed her alive
in order to achieve their aims, whatever those aims might prove to be.

They had finally received the answer to that question this morning when the ransom
note arrived. At just past eight o’clock, a quick knock had come at the front door.
Symms had opened it to discover a scruffy boy on the threshold bearing a letter he’d
been told to deliver to someone named Mr. Prince Frederick. He’d been prepared to
run, but Symms had taken hold of him by the neck and dragged him inside.

His eyes had been round with fear when they’d all gathered to question him, but it
became clear almost immediately that he knew nothing of the note’s contents. All he
could tell them was that he’d been paid half a crown—a virtual fortune to his way
of thinking—to bring a letter to a toff in Mayfair. He’d been instructed not to wait
for a reply.

As for the man who’d given him the letter, the boy described him as dark-haired, of
medium height with a mustache.

Lang.

“To think I had such a viper in my employ,” Prince Frederick
said after the boy had been sent on his way. “When I find him, I shall make him wish
he were dead.”

“Obviously he must know that and does no’ care anymore,” Daniel stated. “What does
it say?”

The prince slit open the note’s plain wax seal and began to read. His fingers grew
white against the page. “Why, that traitorous blackguard. He’ll hang for this.” Pausing,
the older man drew a steadying breath. “He demands that I release Peter Hans immediately
or Mercedes will be executed. He also wants two hundred thousand guldens left at a
designated location just outside Alden.”

“Who is Peter Hans?” Emma asked.

Mercedes’s father looked up from the letter. “He is a very dangerous rebel leader
who tried and failed to overthrow my rule and topple me from the throne a few years
ago. He nearly succeeded by allying himself with Bonaparte. It was one of the reasons
I decided to send Mercedes to school in Scotland, thinking she would be safe. And
she has been, until now.”