My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (30 page)

"We have all the time in the world to get to
know one another," Elise said. "Now, let's have the carriage
readied."

* * * *

Marcus slowed his stallion as he neared the
stables at Whycham House. The boy Samuel emerged from the stables
and Marcus came to a halt beside him. Marcus dismounted and tossed
the reins to him.

"See to him, Samuel," he said, and started
for the house.

He hurried along the footpath. Despite
exhaustion last night, he had missed Elise. He entered without
knocking and went directly to the drawing room where, as expected,
Sophie sat on the couch facing the window overlooking the gardens.
Elise, however, wasn't present.

Sophie looked up. Her brow furrowed. "What is
amiss?"

"The only thing amiss," he replied, "is that
my wife isn't here. Is she still abed? It is nearly—"

Sophie's eyes widened and she gave a soft
gasp.

Marcus felt an instant of confusion, then his
heart leapt into a furious rhythm. "What is it? Where is she?"

Sophie stood, the needlework in her lap
falling to the floor. "She left yesterday, a short time after we
arrived."

"What?" Marcus's head spun. "I instructed her
to wait until I came for her." He broke from the cold hand of fear
and strode to Sophie. She looked up at him, panic on her face. He
grasped her shoulders. "Why did Justin allow her to leave?"

"He wasn't here. Elise was concerned about
you."

"And you let her go?" Marcus shook her hard
enough to loosen several hairpins. Two curls struck her
shoulder.

"It was still light," Sophie said, her voice
so shaky Marcus realized she was close to tears. "I travel between
Whycham House and Ashlund often. Marcus!" Tears streamed down her
cheeks. "You know it is true. I have never feared traveling on that
road, even at night."

Marcus released her, his hands working and
reworking into fists.

"She took three of our men," Sophie went on.
"I told her to keep them as long as needed at Ashlund. It was
early. I had no reason to—"

"No reason to think!" he roared, and stepped
closer. She didn't retreat. "She is not to travel alone," he
shouted. "There have been threats—"

"Threats?" Sophie's gaze hardened. "Threats
you say? I ask you, then, why we weren't told? Should Justin not
have been informed? Should not some provisions have been made? My
God, Marcus, why have you kept silent?"

He struggled to answer, but the words—his
mind—nothing worked.

"What are these threats?" Sophie asked in a
voice so reasonable, so firm, Marcus snapped from his
indecision.

"There's no time for explanations." Sophie
opened her mouth to speak, but he said, "First, we find her."

Chapter Seventeen

Marcus followed Elise's carriage tracks from
Whycham House onto the road leading to Ashlund. Where a
heavier-trafficked crossroad joined the Ashlund road, a myriad of
tracks, all muddied by the night's rain, obscured hers. Marcus
ordered Justin to return to Whycham House and check all farms and
cottages near the road, while he continued onward and did the same.
Two hours passed before he heard the pounding of hooves over the
sound of his own mount's gallop. He glanced over his shoulder and
saw Justin approaching. Sophie rode alongside and Kiernan followed
with a dozen more men behind. Marcus slowed his stallion as they
neared. He observed the haggard look on Sophie's face when they
came alongside.

They had discovered no news.

"There are four farms between the point you
left us and Whycham House," Justin said. "I did not wish to diverge
too far off the road until we could better ascertain where she
might have gotten lost."

Marcus's head jerked to the side and he
glared at Justin. "Lost?"

"You have found nothing?" Justin went on.

Marcus looked forward again. "Nay."

"We are but midway between Ashlund and
Whycham House," Justin said. "There is much territory yet to
cover."

Two farmhouses down, they encountered a
peasant who remembered Elise's entourage.

"When?" Marcus demanded.

"Yesterday," the man replied. "I was
returning from MacLellan's down the road. Later afternoon,
four-thirty or five, I would say."

"All was well with her?"

"As far as I could see."

"How many were in the party?" Marcus
asked.

"I didn't see inside the carriage. Let me
see, there was the driver, wheeler," he paused, then added, "there
were three or four men riding alongside. Can't say for sure."

"Sounds as if the men are accounted for,"
Justin said.

"Come," Marcus directed the man, "you will
show us exactly where you saw my wife."

They rode a mile south on the road, when the
farmer stopped them. "Here."

Marcus dismounted and examined the tracks.
"Bloody hell," he cursed. "It looks as though all of Edinburgh has
traversed this road." He tried following his line of sight along
one set of carriage tracks, only to lose them in the tangled web of
another in the moist ground.

"Lord Phillip passed this way," the man
said.

Marcus cut his gaze to the man. "Lord
Phillip. When?"

"I passed him about two miles north of his
estate," the man replied.

"Then you saw Lady Ashlund here?"

"Aye."

Marcus looked at Justin. "Phillip's estate
borders mine."

Justin nodded. "Perhaps they passed one
another."

An hour later, Marcus departed Lord Phillip's
estate knowing nothing more than that the earl had set out to visit
a friend to the north before heading south for Edinburgh. Marcus
cursed the earl's timing, his absence, and his person.

Marcus glanced at the sky as he mounted his
horse. The day had turned to dusk. He had ridden since morning and
his mount flagged. He rode to Ashlund and exchanged his horse for a
fresh one. He reached the outskirts of Ashlund property and
encountered the search party.

"Exchange your horses for fresh ones at
Ashlund," Marcus instructed. "I'll speak to the tenants of the two
farms to the south."

"Father," Kiernan said in unison with
Justin's, "Marcus."

"I left instructions for horses to be readied
for you," Marcus said. "You will overtake me soon enough."

Dusk gave way to night as they extended the
search into the countryside to the west. To the east, a high cliff
butted the shoreline of an inlet from the bay. Now, they rode
fifteen miles south of Ashlund, stopping at every village and home
on the road to Edinburgh. The next village lay five miles farther
south. Marcus urged his horse into a harder trot and the company
following did the same. Sophie rode between Marcus and Justin with
Kiernan behind them.

"Marcus," Sophie called above the clatter of
hooves.

He looked at her. An overcast sky hid the
moon, but four of the twelve men who accompanied them carried
torches and he easily made out her strained expression.

Sophie shook her head. "Why didn't Elise—"
She broke off with a stifled choke.

Marcus looked straight ahead. "I alone bear
the blame. Don't cause yourself any further grief over the
matter."

"No further grief?"

Her words hit him like barbs and Marcus
snapped his attention onto her.

Her eyes blazed. "You can be an arrogant
bastard, Cousin. Whether or not I share blame, I will grieve as I
please."

She yanked her horse's reins and Marcus
pulled to the right in order to avoid her horse. She circled to the
rear of the company and brought her stallion alongside
Justin's.

A moment of silence passed before Justin
said, "Seven men traveled in the company, all trained men of war.
Not easy prey."

"Yet they are gone," Marcus said.

"True," Justin agreed, "but there will be
news of them somewhere. A company of brigands large enough to take
such a large party could not go unnoticed."

"Then let us find that news," Marcus said,
and spurred his mount into a full gallop.

The morning sun had only begun to spread
across the grey sky when Marcus brought his horse to a halt in
front of Ashlund. Justin, Kiernan, and the messenger, carrying news
of a priest who said he had knowledge of Elise's entourage,
followed Marcus as he jumped to the ground and ran for the porch,
then took the stairs two at a time. Pushing past the oak door, they
strode down the corridor to the drawing room. Marcus threw open the
door to find Sophie sitting on the couch. Beside her sat the
priest, Father Fynn.

The priest stood and Marcus hurried forward.
"Father," he said, "what news do you have?"

The priest hesitated.

"Tell me," Marcus demanded. "You have news of
my wife."

"Forgive me, Lord Ashlund," Father Fynn
began, "Yesterday, we found a woman's body washed ashore near
Braemer."

Marcus's head reeled. He looked at Sophie,
who had yet to rise. He turned back to the priest. "You can't be
sure. We found no sign of foul play."

"Lord Ashlund, I wasn't aware you had
married, and this woman was a stranger to us. Therefore, we began a
search of our own. We traveled upstream and—" he broke off.

"What? What did you find that could possibly
confirm your suspicions?"

"A carriage."

Marcus stared. "A carriage means
nothing."

"I know the crest. All living in this area
know it." Father Fynn pointed at the two-sworded crest hanging over
the hearth. "The carriage bore your crest. It lies on the shore
near Glenurcom."

Forty-five minutes later, Marcus stood with
Justin and Kiernan at the edge of a wooded cliff overlooking
Glenurcom. He looked down at a carriage, the front half of which
was submerged in water. The horses' bodies were tangled in the mass
of leather and iron, which had once been harness and axle. Marcus
watched small waves lap at the bloated mass of flesh. He stared
again at the broken carriage, then closed his eyes. Even from a
hundred-foot distance, there was no mistaking the Ashlund
crest.

He turned away.

Justin followed. "You say you found another
woman's body in the carriage?" he addressed the priest, who had
remained astride his mount.

Father Fynn nodded. "Young. By her dress, I
assumed a servant."

"Mary," Marcus mumbled.

"And you found the bodies of how many men?"
Justin asked.

"Four."

"How many men had you left with her,
Marcus?"

He laughed bitterly. "Not enough."

"How many?" Justin repeated.

Marcus looked up, startled from his stupor by
the earl's sharp tone. "Four. The driver, two wheelers and one
guard. Kiernan rode with them. They were but twenty minutes from
Whycham House—" he ceased speaking when Kiernan's mouth tightened.
"'Tis not your fault, Kiernan. You saw them to Whycham House as I
instructed."

"Three men are missing," Justin went on in a
business-like manner. "Where are they?"

Marcus looked at him. He heard the words, but
the meaning escaped him. "What?"

"Three men remain unaccounted for."

"You know full well where they are," Marcus
said in a savage voice. "They ran from my wrath. And well they
should. But they can't hide from me forever. When I catch
them—"

"Don't be a fool," Justin cut in, his voice
still calm. "There isn't a man in your personal entourage who would
run rather than die. As for the three men from my household, I've
trusted them with Sophie's life many times."

Justin began looking about the rocky terrain
of the forest. He strode ten feet, then came to a halt. He studied
the ground for a moment before saying, "The carriage came through
here." With a sweep of his hands, he indicated a wide area between
the trees. "I see only this bit of carriage tracks here," he
squatted and ran a finger over two inches of ground, "and," he
scuttled forward, "this here." He ran his fingers over another four
inches of ground.

Marcus looked at the ground, but the imagined
picture of Elise's terror-stricken face as the carriage careened
through the forest toward the cliff's edge blurred his vision. He
watched numbly as Justin rose, walked another twenty feet in the
direction of the road, then stopped again.

He dropped to a squat and examined the
ground. "Here is a hoof print." He lightly touched a mossy spot
between embedded stones. "This stony ground challenges my limited
skills as tracker."

Father Fynn dismounted and joined Justin in
studying the ground. He glanced toward the road, then rose, strode
several paces, and studied the ground. "Two rode here." The priest
pointed to the ground a foot away.

Justin rose and walked another ten feet past
the priest. He surveyed the ground, then the cliff. He looked at
Marcus. "Why didn't the women jump?"

Marcus's stomach lurched.

Justin frowned. "The guards would have
instructed them to jump long before they reached the cliff. The men
wouldn't have willingly gone over with the carriage." Justin turned
and walked toward the road until he disappeared among the trees. A
moment later, his faint call sounded from beyond the trees.

Marcus didn't move.

"Father," Kiernan said.

Marcus looked at him and Keirnan gave him an
inquiring look. Marcus started toward Justin's voice. He broke from
the trees to find Justin examining the road. Father Fynn followed,
his horse's reins in hand. Kiernan trailed with the remaining
horses.

Justin didn't look up at their approach, only
said, "Marcus, you are a far better tracker than I. Have a
look."

Marcus moved forward as though in a dream and
squatted next to Justin.

"This road is nearly as rocky as the shore,"
Justin said. "However, there is no mistaking these tracks."

Marcus looked at the inch long depression
crushing the moss which grew between the rocks.