My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (31 page)

"And," Justin went on, "these." He pointed to
another small rut to his right.

Marcus looked at the track. He frowned and
looked up at Justin. "A second carriage"

The earl nodded. "Have you any idea if this
could be Elise's carriage?"

Marcus looked from one carriage track to the
other, then back at Justin. "Nay."

"They are two separate tracks, then?"

"Aye. They are spaced too far apart to be the
same carriage." He surveyed the ground. "This road isn't used a
great deal." The road branched off the main road to Edinburgh. He
looked at Father Fynn. "This is the road you took from
Braemer?"

"Aye," the priest answered.

"We found no sign of the carriage leaving the
main road," Marcus said.

"True," Justin agreed. "But the rain the
night before obliterated most tracks."

Marcus rose and stepped slowly toward the
trees, all the while scanning the ground. When he saw the partial
indentation of a hoof print, he looked up and stared at the trees
through which Elise's carriage had raced.

"Kiernan," he called without looking back,
"bring me my horse."

"Wait here," Marcus told Justin and Kiernan
when they followed him down the chapel hallway. They had remained
close—too close—on the ride to the church, and Marcus had no
stomach for it when he faced what lie ahead.

They obeyed, and he continued to the door
that separated him from the body of the woman Father Fynn insisted
was his wife. Marcus reached for the door, his hand shaking so
badly he gripped the doorknob with force enough to turn his
knuckles white. He pushed the door open, stepped through, then
shoved it shut behind him.

In the time it took to slide his gaze from
the floor to her body, the memory of Elise turning to face him the
day he'd happened upon her in the meadow flashed before him. Burned
into his mind was the proud expression that revealed the
indomitable spirit that would not be tamed.

The memory shattered at sight of the body
lying on the small bed in the corner of the room. He reeled. Father
Fynn warned that her skull had been damaged beyond recognition, but
nothing had prepared Marcus for this. His belly roiled. He fell to
his knees, his stomach finally giving up what little he had been
coerced into eating the past two days. He wretched until he thought
his liver would follow, then slumped forward.

A sudden pounding on the door jarred him.
"Father!" Kiernan called from the other side of the door.

Amidst the pounding came Justin's calmer,
"Marcus."

"Stay out!" Marcus shouted.

He leaned forward, his palms finding purchase
on the floor amidst the vomit. The pounding ceased. Marcus slowed
his ragged breathing, but no amount of effort controlled the
shaking of his body. He forced his head up, steadying his gaze on
Elise's skirts, torn and mud-caked. He recognized the light yellow
damask. His gaze moved of its own volition to her hands, folded
across her chest in an attitude of rest. Without thought, his gaze
yanked farther up her body and he stared at the unrecognizable
face.

Marcus jerked to consciousness as though
roused from a slumber of years. Daylight had faded the sky to a
purple haze. He rode between Justin and Kiernan. He searched his
memory but found no recollection of how he had come to be there. He
looked left, past Kiernan, and studied the forested land. There was
something—something he couldn't quite grasp. He looked ahead at the
road, damp from the day's shower. The recollection hit him like a
bolt of lightning. He couldn't mistake the place. Marcus yanked on
his horse's reins, wheeling the beast past Kiernan.

"Father!"

Marcus ignored his son and galloped through
the trees toward the spot where Elise's carriage had run off the
cliff. Hoof beats followed, but he cared nothing for his
companions. He broke from the trees into the clearing at the
cliff's edge and brought his horse to a halt ten feet from the
cliff. Marcus leapt from its back and strode to the very edge of
the cliff.

"Father!" Kiernan's shout preceded his burst
into the clearing.

Marcus whirled. "Her wedding band."

"What?" Kiernan said, breathless as he jumped
from his horse and hurried to his side.

Marcus looked past him to Justin, who was
dismounting. "I didn't see her wedding ring. Did the priest give it
to you?"

"No," Justin replied.

Marcus tightened his jaw as he pushed past
Kiernan. "What have they done with her wedding band?"

Justin strode to his side. "The highwaymen
would have taken everything."

Marcus shook his head. "Nay. The ring was a
size too large. She feared losing it and packed it away for the
trip."

The earl shook his head. "Surely the
highwaymen would have searched the baggage."

"The emerald is three karats. It will not be
easily hid. I can find it and Elise's murderers within the
week."

For the second time that day, Marcus rode
through the streets of Braemer. Elise's body was already on its way
to Brahan Seer. Justin had made the arrangements. Marcus's gut
twisted. He would retrieve her wedding band, find the guards who
had deserted her, then return to Brahan Seer… and to her. He could
offer no recompense for her death, but neither would he find peace
for the remainder of his days. He stopped in front of the modest
church.

"Wait here," he ordered Kiernan and Justin,
then dismounted and went inside.

Father Fynn walked down the aisle toward the
door. He halted when Marcus entered the sanctuary. They stared at
one another for a moment, then the priest said, "You're here about
the jewelry?"

Marcus felt another vicious twist to his
insides. "Aye."

Father Fynn nodded. "Come with me." He turned
and started toward the altar.

Marcus followed him to the back of the
church. He hesitated when the priest paused before the altar to
make the sign of the cross. Left led to the room where Elise had
lain. Father Fynn turned right, but Marcus's knees weakened
nonetheless. They continued down a short corridor and entered a
modest bedchamber. Father Fynn stopped before a desk in the far
corner and opened a drawer. He retrieved a folded paper, then faced
Marcus.

"I wanted no mistakes. When I saw the quality
cut of Lady Ashlund's clothes, I assumed she had met with
highwaymen. Therefore, the fact she wore no jewelry did no'
surprise me. I thought no more of it until Sara MacPhee, one of my
parishioners, arrived early this morning. According to her, her son
discovered your wife. I didn't know that when I spoke to you
earlier because it was James MacAlphie who alerted me to the
presence of Lady's Ashlund's body in the loch." Father Fynn paused.
"You must understand, the jewels represent a lifetime of wealth to
these people." Marcus made no response and Fynn went on. "The long
and short of the matter is that Sara's son took the jewelry."

Marcus clenched his hands into fists.

"The boy is gone. You could find him, of
course, and would be well within your rights to extract payment. A
man of your position could sentence the boy to a lifetime of
imprisonment."

Marcus envisioned the boy hanging alongside
the three men who had been entrusted with Elise's life.

Father Fynn unfolded the paper. "Sara saw the
jewelry. She described a thin, gold bracelet and a brooch—"

"I am well aware of my wife's jewelry,"
Marcus snapped.

He strode to Father Fynn and snatched the
paper from his hands.

"Of course." Father Fynn hesitated. "Lord
Ashlund, I pressed Sara for information concerning the brooch. It
was the most valuable of the items, so I had hoped—"

"Most valuable?" Marcus demanded coldly. "My
wife's wedding ring was far more valuable. The emerald is three
karats. The gold, twenty-four karat. The ring has been in my family
for generations. It is priceless."

Father Fynn looked startled. "Emerald? What
emerald?"

"She packed the ring in her valise with the
chain and brooch."

The priest pointed to the paper Marcus held.
"I swear, Lord Ashlund, there was no emerald ring. Wait, there is
this." He opened a drawer and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. He
unfolded the document and handed it to Marcus.

He lifted the paper and recognized the
pawnbroker's ticket for Elise's wedding band.

Thick gold wedding band
his mind
repeated the words on the document. Elise had kept the pawn ticket.
Why?

Marcus riveted his gaze to Father Fynn.
"Where is this Sara MacPhee?"

Fear crossed the priest's face.

"I will not harm her."

Father Fynn hesitated, then said, "I cannot
stop you."

"No," Marcus said, his voice hard. "No one
can."

* * * *

In the predawn hours the next morning, the
door to Marcus's study opened and Justin and Kiernan entered. The
time of reckoning had arrived.

"Justin," Marcus said, without shifting his
attention from the instructions he was preparing for Harris, "go
home."

"Father," Kiernan said, forcing Marcus's
attention to the chair Justin was settling into and his son
standing beside it.

Marcus met Kiernan's gaze and he saw the pain
on his face, but only broke the connection saying, "You will return
to school."

"I will stay."

"Staying will not stop me." He looked at
Justin. "Nor yours."

"I will not leave,"
Kiernan
asserted.

Marcus swung his attention onto his son. "You
will
return to school. Refuse, and I will have you bound and
taken back to Brahan Seer, where you will remain until I
return."

"If you return," Kiernan shot back.

"You are old enough to understand—"

"Old enough to understand a fool's errand
when I see one."

"The boy deserves an explanation," Justin
said.

Marcus stared at his son, then looked at
Justin. This was the first the two of them had demanded an
explanation for his actions of the previous evening. He understood
that he might appear insane. When he'd left the church in search of
Sara MacPhee, he hadn't commanded them to leave, but neither had he
explained the hurried ride to her home, nor the search of the
immediate area when her cottage was found empty.

No words were spoken on the return trip home
and Justin and Kiernan didn't accost him when he closeted himself
in his study the length of the night. They knew nothing of what
he'd read in the preliminary report entitled "Elisabeth Kingston"
that had sat on his desk until last night. Kingston. At last, he
knew her name. Marcus closed his eyes. Why did you not tell me,
Elise? Too late, he knew her identity and why she was in the
Scottish Highlands.

The daughter of a wealthy shipping baron,
Elise had lost her father at age fifteen. She was now thirty—older
than he'd thought. She married Robert Kingston—not Riley, as she
had called him—seven years ago. Amelia Kingston had been born a
year after the marriage. Amelia died aboard the ship that bore her
name. Robert, too, had died. Only, he hadn't drowned in the
wreckage of the ship but had been brought down by a bullet
administered by his wife. Marcus's wife, the Marchioness of
Ashlund, was wanted for murder. What pushed a woman to murder her
husband?

Marcus's man of affairs had attempted to find
the Amelia's captain to answer that question, but ship and captain
were on an extended voyage to Australia and wouldn't return for six
more months. He'd located only one crewmember who had been aboard
the Amelia on that voyage. The crewmember told of a nasty storm
that had raged the night Elise had been lost at sea. Robert
appeared on deck during the storm. He had a pistol, but before he
could use it, Elise shot him. He returned fire as he fell. Steven
was hit, but not mortally wounded. Elise had told him Steven went
down with the ship. She must have believed Steven dead by her
husband's bullet.

A massive wave struck the ship and swept
Elise overboard. Everyone in America thought her dead, which didn't
explain the notice advertised by her stepfather, Price Ardsley,
that named her murderer. The investigator included in his report
the rumor that Price Ardsley was unhappy with the twenty-five
percent interest in Landen Shipping, which had fallen to Elise on
her twenty-fifth birthday. If not for the twenty-six percent her
brother controlled in Landen Shipping, her interest would be of
small consequence to Price Ardsley.

The Amelia never docked in London, but did
arrive back in Boston three weeks later. Two months ago, another
ship owned by Landen Shipping arrived in the southern dock at
Rotherhithe, Scotland. Price Ardsley had been aboard the ship.

Marcus picked up the envelope that contained
the report on Elise and tossed it to Justin. He caught it and they
made eye contact.

"You have one hour." Marcus looked at
Kiernan. "Then I leave for Glasgow."

* * * *

Marcus paused on the boardwalk outside the
shabby pawnbroker's shop and scanned the dock. Despite the early
hour, hackneys passed in both directions on the street beside him
and Justin, and sailors strode along the walkways, while others
loaded and unloaded supplies and goods. A woman, likely one of the
notoriously dishonest public house landlords the riverside teemed
with or one of the brothel madams, hurried across the road. This
was the neighborhood Elise had been in when Daniel found her.
Marcus shuddered at what could have happened to her, then
remembered what had happened to her less than half an hour from
Ashlund.

"Are you all right?" Justin asked.

Marcus nodded, then entered the shop. A small
man stood behind the counter in the rear of the room, his back to
them as he examined an item Marcus assumed belonged to the man who
stood on the other side of the counter. The man behind the counter
turned. His gaze fell first on Marcus, then flicked to Justin and
returned to Marcus. His eyes widened. Marcus glanced at the gold
pocket watch the man clutched before the hand disappeared behind
his back. Marcus strode toward the man with Justin following. The
customer turned. He didn't step aside as they stopped beside him,
only scrutinized Justin, who stood closest.