Marshal and the Heiress (35 page)

Her hand was clutching his. “You can't blame yourself for doing what you thought was right.”

“Oh, yes I can,” he said. “I became very good at using people. At playing God.”

She felt his pain, deep and ragged and raw.

“Now I know what it feels like to be hunted,” he added dryly, “and I don't like it.” He hesitated, then he continued after a moment. “That's why I struck out at you. But at least whoever is behind these attempts has decided to go after me and not Sarah Ann.”

A shiver went up her spine and spread throughout her body. “Who's with Sarah Ann?”

“Effie.” His brows knitted together at the concern in her voice. “Sarah Ann was tired. I told Effie not to leave her alone.”

“Ben,” Lisbeth said, rising to her feet, “don't you see? If
either one
of you is killed, the inheritance is in jeopardy. Without her, you have no claim. Without you, she has no guardian. Barbara or I, or even Hugh, would probably be appointed guardian.”

“It keeps coming back to the only three who would benefit,” he said, but this time there was no accusation in his voice. “Since it's not you—”

“There's only Barbara and Hugh,” she finished. “But I still can't believe …”

But he wasn't listening any longer. He was on his feet and moving toward his horse. She was moving as quickly as she could behind him, disregarding the pain in her ankle.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. She felt it deep inside. The attempt on Ben's life that morning might well have been real. Then again, it might have been designed to relax his watch over Sarah Ann, make him think that he, not her, was the target—which was exactly what he had thought.

Hugh? Barbara?

She still couldn't believe it of either.

As soon as Ben and Lisbeth reached Calholm, he saw Effie running toward the stable and he rode directly toward her.

“Where's Sarah Ann?” he asked, panic rising up in him.

Effie stuttered, tears streaming from her eyes. “I … I canna find her, sir. I left her … a minute only to get her some chocolate. I was just gone … hardly any time. I … I've looked everywhere in the manor.”

“The stables?” he asked. “Have you been to the stables?”

“I … I was just going.”

Swearing, Ben turned the horse toward the stable. She had to be there. She was probably currying Peppermint. He didn't wait for Bailey to stop before he was out of the saddle and opening the stable door.

“Sarah Ann,” he yelled, then waited for her reply. There was none and his heart caught. “Sarah Ann,” he tried again, as he strode down toward Peppermint's stall. He heard the fear in his own voice.

Callum Trapp appeared from the back. “Ye be scaring the horses to death—”

“Have you seen Sarah Ann?”

Trapp shook his head. “No, I took one of the 'orses out this afternoon and just returned. I've been putting the tack back. Is the lassie's pony in the stall? She might ha' come to visit him.”

Ben, Trapp, and Lisbeth hurried toward Peppermint's stall. The pony was missing.

Ben shook his head. “She wouldn't have taken the pony alone. She can't saddle him.”

Effie was sniffling behind them, and Ben turned to her. “Exactly when did you last see her?”

She looked frightened half out of her mind, and he wanted to shake her, but that would accomplish nothing. He gentled his voice. “Think back, Effie. Exactly when did you leave her room?”

“I do na' know,” she replied, her voice quivering. “It's my fault. She were sleeping and I thought she might like something warm when she … and then Thad was downstairs talking about the race and …” Her voice trailed off, guilt written all over her face, and Ben realized she had been gone longer than “a minute.”

“How long did you look for her?”

“I do na' know,” Effie wailed. “I looked an' looked.”

“An hour? Two?” He and Lisbeth had been gone about three hours. Making love while Sarah Ann awoke alone …

God, he would never forgive himself.

“I do na' know,” Effie said again, backing away at his angry tone, bending her head in shame and regret, shying away as if expecting a blow.

He wanted to strike at something. God, how he needed to do that. But he was more to blame than anyone. Sarah Ann was
his
responsibility.

Trapp gave Effie a disgusted look. “Tears will no' help now. I'll see if any of the other horses are missing. You go to the manor and see if anyone saw her leave.”

Ben looked at him questioningly.

“She probably just took a ride wi' one of the guests,” he said.

Ben didn't believe it. Unless perhaps the guest was Drew Cameron. “I'll go with you,” he told the trainer, then turned to Effie. She was still standing there as if glued to the ground. “Go find Duncan, and set all the servants looking for her. Search the house again. Go, dammit.”

At that, she took off, stumbling from the stable. Then with Lisbeth at his side, he followed Trapp as the man checked each stall.

“One is gone,” Trapp said. “Dragon Slayer.”

“Have you seen Lord Kinloch around?” As Ben said the words, he heard Lisbeth's gasp.

“Not since the race,” Callum replied.

Ben turned to Lisbeth. “Find him.”

“He wouldn't have—”

“Someone did,” he interrupted curtly. He couldn't trust Hugh and definitely not Cameron. And Lisbeth?

If he hadn't been so damn weak, so consumed by desire for her, he would be in his room right now, watching Sarah Ann play with Annabelle. Chills rocked him, along with raw anguish.

And fear, fear so deep he could hardly bear it.

But he had to. He had to think. Perhaps she was just lost. His gut said otherwise, though. Someone had probably taken her, and she was out there alone.

One of the Hamiltons.
His enemy—and Sarah Ann's—was one of the Hamiltons.

“You can't go alone,” she whispered. “You don't know the roads. I'll go with you.”

“No,” he said. “Look for Cameron.”

She nodded, but doubt was in her eyes. “I'll get everyone looking. The grooms, the servants.”

He turned away from her and looked to Callum Trapp. “If someone took her, where might they head?”

“The road leads to both Glasgow an' Edinburgh,” Trapp said. “I would be bettin' on Edinburgh. It's closer and a good place to lose yerself in.”

Ben nodded. Time was of the essence. If someone had taken her, they would be riding hard. He couldn't wait until the manor and grounds were searched. His gut told him she'd been kidnapped. And he'd seldom been wrong. “I'll search the road.” He turned to Lisbeth. “Ask others to search the countryside.”

She nodded. “Everyone will help,” she whispered softly, but her eyes were bleak.

“I'll go wi' ye,” Trapp said after a moment's silence. “I'll saddle the horses.” He left, moving quicker than Ben had ever seen him.

Ben turned to Lisbeth, his heart torn to pieces.

“Ben …”

“It's my fault. I left her. I should have realized—”

She shook her head. “We'll find her. She's probably just searching for Annabelle someplace.”

But he knew differently. “If we hadn't—”

“You couldn't watch her every moment.” She reached out to him, but he stepped back. Part of him even blamed her, or at least his obsession with her. Even though he knew it was unfair. The fault was his. Totally.

He turned away.

“Ben …”

Her voice was pleading, but he couldn't answer. Instead, he moved away, meeting Callum who was now approaching with two horses. He took the reins to one and mounted.

Without looking back, he dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, and he and Trapp galloped away from Calholm.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sarah Ann had seemingly disappeared into thin air.

Ben and Callum galloped half the distance to Edinburgh, stopping the few travelers they saw. No one had seen a child on a pony. Ben wanted to go the other way, to Glasgow, but it was well past midnight, and a bare sliver of a moon disappeared behind the clouds, cutting visibility to nothing. Others, Callum also argued, were checking that route.

It was several hours past midnight when they returned to Calholm, hoping to find good news. There was none, although Cameron had been found—apparently in a female guest's bedroom.

Henry was also missing. Lisbeth guessed that he had followed Sarah Ann.

Hugh and the few remaining guests, as well as the household staff, had combed the countryside, including the castle ruins and the woods where the hunt had taken place.

Still, Ben bounded up the steps to Sarah Ann's room, hoping that some miracle had returned her. But it was empty except for Annabelle, who meowed piteously and prowled back and forth on the bed in her own search.

He felt sick at the thought of Sarah Ann's terror.

He hadn't been able to save Mary May, and now he'd failed to protect her daughter. He felt helpless, impotent. Damn whoever did this. Damn himself for allowing his preoccupation with Lisbeth to distract him.

Why hadn't he seen that Sarah Ann was still in danger? The attack on his own life had lulled him into thinking he was the sole target.

He didn't even know where to start looking. He was in a country he didn't know, among people he didn't trust. His years as a lawman didn't help now.

Only one clue had surfaced: a new groom was also missing. He'd been hired by Callum a few days ago and had had excellent references from a family in Edinburgh. No, Callum said, he had not checked the references. He'd had no reason to, after the man proved himself adept at handling horses. And now he too blamed himself.

Ben finally left Sarah Ann's room and went downstairs. Despite the early hour of the morning, all the searchers were still up, waiting for further instructions. Lisbeth and Barbara had scoured the house once again, then gone into the kitchen to see about providing food for the tired riders. Ben studied every face over and over again and found nothing but concern. His gaze lingered on Cameron and Hugh.

“I can't believe anyone would hurt Sarah Ann,” Hugh said, collapsing into a chair with a glass of brandy.

Ben paced several times across the room. “I'm going out to look again.”

“I'll go with you,” offered Cameron, who was lounging wearily against a wall.

“So will I.” Hugh jumped from his seat, spilling some of the brandy.

Callum hesitated. “Wait till morn. Ye canna see anything out there now.”

“I'll take a lantern,” Ben said. “I can't stand here and do nothing. God, I'll kill whoever did this.” His eyes went around the room again. “No groom did it on his own.”

Hugh spun around to face him. “What do you mean, Masters?”

“Exactly what I said. Only three people would benefit from my death or Sarah Ann's.”

“Your death?” He looked puzzled.

“Someone took shots at me this morning during the grouse hunt.”

Everyone looked stunned.

“When that didn't succeed,” Ben continued tightly, “Sarah Ann apparently became the next target.”
And I left her alone.
He would never forgive himself. And God help whoever had taken her.

Barbara entered then, followed by Lisbeth, both carrying trays of food. Duncan was behind them with a tray laden with two large decanters of spirits.

Hugh looked at them angrily. “You just missed being called murderers and kidnappers.”

Barbara blinked several times as if trying to understand. Lisbeth's face went completely white.

“It seems Masters here doesn't think the child is merely lost. She's been kidnapped, or worse, and by one of us.” He threw the glass he was holding against the fireplace and whirled around to face Ben.

“I've made no secret I believe Calholm should be mine,” he said, “but I bloody well wouldn't hurt a child to get it.” He strode out of the room, the heels of his boots echoing sharply down the hallway.

Ben glanced at Cameron, who straightened from the wall. “Am I a suspect, too? I have no interest in Calholm.”

“Don't you?” Ben said with deadly softness.

The room was silent, ringing with silent accusations. Several of the guests shifted uncomfortably.

Cameron met his gaze steadily. “I think you can use this time more effectively,” he challenged.

“What would you suggest?”

Cameron looked at the two women, and Ben's gaze followed that gaze. Lisbeth was like a statue, quiet and still and pale. Barbara's violet eyes were wide and wounded.

“Let's talk alone.”

Ben hesitated. “All right,” he finally said, leading the way from the room. He didn't know what Andrew Cameron wanted. He knew what he wanted at the moment: to commit an act of violence.

Cameron walked out to the yard. Several horses were still tethered to posts in front.

“What do you want?” Ben said sharply.

“I know what you think,” Drew said. “Lisbeth told me. You're wrong. I have no intentions toward her.”

Ben couldn't read the man's eyes in the dark, but he heard the sincerity in his voice. “You were in Glasgow when the crates fell, then Edinburgh when a carriage nearly ran us down.”

“Our first meeting was a coincidence,” Cameron said. “Edinburgh wasn't. I'd heard you were in the city. I arranged to meet you again. I
didn
't arrange for the carriage accident.”

“You knew—”

“Only when Lisbeth told me today,” he said. “You're right about one thing. I do care for Lisbeth. But you're wrong about why.”

“Get to the point,” Ben demanded.

Cameron hesitated, obviously reluctant to continue. Then he seemed to come to a decision. “Will you swear not to tell a living soul what I say?”

“If it has nothing to do with Sarah Ann.”