My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series (32 page)

"Do we know one another?" Justin asked with a
lift of his brow.

The man gave a rough laugh. "Nay, canna' say
I've had the pleasure."

Justin turned to the man behind the counter.
"Are you the proprietor, sir?"

The man shifted uneasily. "I dinna' know as
I'd say the proprietor."

"What are ye talking about, Jack?" the
customer cut in. "You owned this shop your whole life. Got it from
your dad."

"Bart," Jack growled, "mind your business."
Jack scurried toward the far end of the counter. He flipped a
section of the counter up, passed through, and hurried toward Bart.
Jack pressed the watch into his hand. "Be on your way," he growled,
and shoved Bart toward the door.

"Now, see here," Bart began, but halted when
his gaze met Marcus's. He looked from Marcus to Justin. "Bloody
gentry. Think they own the world." He continued grumbling as he
shuffled toward the door.

The hustle and bustle of passing hackneys and
men's shouts filled the room as he opened the door, then cut off
abruptly when the door banged shut.

Jack hurried back behind his counter. He
stopped across from Marcus and Justin. "Now, what can I do for you
gentleman?"

From inside his jacket pocket, Marcus
produced the pawn ticket for Elise's wedding band and placed it on
the counter. "I am here about this ring."

The shop owner picked up the paper and began
reading it. "Ahh, yes, I knew her husband would come for this one
day. Yes, I did," he added as he scurried toward a curtained
doorway in a corner behind the counter. "A fine piece of jewelry,
this one. No' something a man is likely to be pleased about his
wife selling." Jack paused, hand on the curtain and looked over his
shoulder. "Your wife" He looked from Justin to Marcus. "Er, your
wife, m'lord?"

Marcus nodded.

"I can see you have the situation well in
hand." Jack disappeared behind the curtain.

A moment later, Jack burst through the
curtain, a fragment of folded velvet in hand. He laid the fabric on
the counter before Marcus and unwrapped it. Marcus stared at the
gold band glistening against the black fabric.

"I—" he began.

"Well, there you are," Justin interrupted.
"Just as you knew it would be." Justin looked at him. "That'll
teach you something of a woman's wrath."

Marcus stared blankly at him.

Justin turned to Jack. "You know how women
are."

"Oh, indeed, m'lord. Indeed, I do."

Justin produced a roll of banknotes from his
pocket. "How much did you pay her?"

Jack picked up the paper. "Here it is." He
pointed a bony finger at the figure scrawled in the bottom corner
of the paper. "Five sovereign."

Justin counted out ten pound notes. "I trust
this will account for your efforts."

Jack's eyes glittered. "Aye, m'lord. Indeed,
it will, indeed, it will."

He snatched up the notes as though expecting
Justin to change his mind and stuffed them into his pocket. He
rewrapped the ring, then produced a small wooden box from beneath
the counter and placed the ring inside. He looked at Marcus and
extended the box toward him.

"There you go, m'lord. As good as new."

Marcus took the box.

"Good day to you," Justin said, and looked at
Marcus. "Come along, my good fellow. You'd best get back and deal
with this matter straight away."

Jack snickered, but Marcus paid no heed as he
followed the earl out the door. Justin took a few steps on the
walkway, then stopped, looking toward the east.

"What is it?" Marcus demanded, following his
line of sight along the busy dock.

Justin looked in the opposite direction. "We
left Kiernan hours ago. I expected him before this."

"He is on his way to London as I
instructed."

Justin grunted. "You don't know your son as
well as you might think."

"What matters is that he knows me. I will
make good on my threat to have him bound and taken back to Brahan
Seer."

"It doesn't matter if you threatened to
dismember the boy, he will appear sooner or later. You should hope
for sooner; that will allow you to keep him under your watchful
eye."

Marcus didn't reply. Instead, he opened the
box containing the ring and removed it from the velvet wrapping.
His heartbeat raced. The ring had been given to Elise by another
man, but it belonged to
her
—was once a part of her. He
closed his fingers into a fist around the ring. The cold metal
warmed within his grasp. If he held the only remaining part of her,
he could once again hold her.

"There is much in her past," Marcus said to
himself.

"You're thinking of Price Ardsley," Justin
said.

Marcus looked up sharply. "He's here. Or
was."

"There is something going on with him."

"Imagine if she one day demanded the
twenty-five per cent interest in Landen Shipping."

"By God, Marcus," Justin exclaimed. "You're
as rich as the devil himself and still landed yourself an
heiress."

Marcus started.

"Bloody hell," Justin muttered. "Deem me the
fool I am. The words were out of my mouth before my brain could
catch up."

Marcus gave a tired smile. "An uncommon state
of mind for you."

Justin sighed, then gave him a long look.
"You are going to America, then?"

"You won't dissuade me."

Justin nodded. "It is only right her brother
know what this Price Ardsley is made of."

"I owe her that much," Marcus replied. His
mouth tightened. "By now the body is buried. Aye," he said when his
cousin opened his mouth to comment. "I should have been there."

"I can't blame you for being unable to bear
seeing her lain in the ground."

Marcus gave a harsh laugh. "She will still be
in the grave when I return."

Justin gazed at the ships in the harbor. "We
had better see the harbormaster."

Marcus looked at him. "We? Nay, Justin. You
aren't coming."

The earl started forward. "I would say his
office is where we entered the docks."

Marcus hurried forward. Within arm's reach,
he grasped Justin's shoulder and forced Justin to face him. "I
didn't ask you to come."

His expression remained impassive. "Of course
not."

"I will not have you risking your life."

"Will you have me bound and sent back to
Whycham House?"

"By God," Marcus burst out, "if that's what
it takes."

Mild amusement crossed Justin's face. "You
know me even less than your son."

"Sophie will not allow this."

"I already sent Sophie word I would be
accompanying you to America."

Marcus gaped.

"I'm not a complete fool," Justin said.

"She won't be pleased."

"She won't be pleased we left her behind."
Justin began walking.

"Justin!" Marcus strode after him.

* * * *

The following morning, Marcus leaned against
the railing of the
Sallinger
, absently fingering the wedding
band in his trouser pocket. He stared across the harbor at the
docks. The shouts of drivers in passing hackneys, dock workers, and
merchants buying and selling wares faded into the background,
replaced by a quiet whoosh as the brigantine skimmed through the
water. Hearing footsteps behind him, he looked over his shoulder to
see Justin approach.

"The captain has been kind enough to extend
an invitation for breakfast," Justin said.

Marcus nodded. He glanced past the masts at
the sun. Eleven years had passed since he'd last been outside Great
Britain, fourteen since crossing the Atlantic. He squinted against
the sunlight. A month from now, he would be seeing this same sun
from Boston Harbor.

Only, it wouldn't be with Elise.

Chapter Eighteen

Marcus rolled onto Elise. The darkness
prevented discerning even the outline of her face, but he heard her
sigh. His chest pressed upon her breasts and she shifted, teasing
him with a slight arch of her body. His heart beat fiercely, his
body hard with an arousal that circumvented the disorientation
clouding his mind. He yanked on her shift until he could spread her
legs with a knee. He grasped her shoulders and, levering himself
into position, thrust into her. With the first stroke, pleasure
radiated through his body. Marcus pinned her against the mattress,
each stroke increasing the deafening roar of blood through his
veins.

Elise gasped. He lowered his full weight upon
her, then rolled onto his back, keeping their bodies joined.
Grasping the back of her knees, he slid them forward so that she
straddled him. He gripped her waist and lifted her up until only
the tip of his shaft remained inside her, then brought her down,
up, down—she gripped his arms and he felt her weight shift as she
threw her head back. He lifted her, slamming her onto him, faster,
then faster, gripping her slim waist in a clasp that frightened
him. Pleasure shot through him. He slammed her down harder. Arching
to meet her—Marcus jerked awake, grasping the wet sheet covering
his hips as he groaned. He continued to pump upwards for several
strokes before slumping back onto the mattress.

His chest rose and fell in heavy gasps for
several moments before his senses cleared enough to recognize the
cabin that had held him captive for twenty-eight nights. Shafts of
muted light streamed through the small glass skylights. His gut
wrenched. Another dream. He closed his eyes. In his mind, he saw
the flutter of Elise's eyelids when he brought her to her release.
His shaft twitched. A muted shout overhead brought the sudden
realization that the ship no longer rocked as it had while slicing
through the Atlantic. Marcus yanked the sheet aside and jumped from
bed. He strode the three paces to the door and stuck his head into
the hallway.

"Lad," he called to a boy at the far end of
the corridor, "where are we?"

The boy turned. "We're in Boston, sir. We've
docked."

"Can you get me a messenger? I need a note
delivered immediately."

"Aye, sir," the boy said. "I'll go if you
like."

"Good lad," he said. "I'll have it ready in
ten minutes."

* * * *

At five-fifty in the afternoon three days
later, the door to the private dining room in the Boston Harbor
Hotel opened and Marcus looked up from the glass of wine he had
been staring at.

"A message for you, sir," the waiter said,
and laid an envelope beside him on the table.

Marcus saw the return address from Colonel
Shay. He tore open the letter and read.

My Dear Marcus,

I have only now received word concerning
Steven Landen. The boy is a lieutenant in the US Army and functions
as a tracker for them. As of three months ago, Lieutenant Landen
was stationed with the 23rd Cavalry Division on the Tyger River in
South Carolina. The Army is slow in updating its records; the boy
may have been sent elsewhere in the meantime. I hope this
information will suffice to connect you with him.

Another bit of news I know will interest you.
My wife is acquainted with Mrs Charles Hampton, of the Burlington
Hamptons. (No, I do not expect you to know them, but you may take
my word that they are among the Boston elite.) Mrs Hampton
remembers the calamity which struck the Amelia on that fateful trip
to England. Apparently, the story was widely discussed amongst Mrs
Hampton's class, a class, as you know, far above my own
station.

My wife related to me the tale as told to her
by Mrs Hampton as follows: When the Amelia docked and her captain
advised Price Ardsley of Elise Kingston's fate, he was
grief-stricken. Your wife's brother, the young Lieutenant Landen,
was seriously injured and went into forced convalescence for nearly
three months. Even before his release from the hospital, he
demanded a search be mounted for his sister. The demand was flatly
refused, most notably by Ardsley, though the directors of Landen
Shipping did agree. They believed that had Mrs Kingston survived,
she would have returned to Boston.

None of this surprises you, as I well know.
There is, however, one piece of information I believe will. Steven
Landen contends that the night Elise was lost at sea, he came upon
Robert Kingston strangling her. Steven thwarted the murder attempt,
and he and Elise escaped up to the deck.

Marcus stared, his gaze fixed on the words he
came upon Robert Kingston strangling her. Elise's husband had tried
to kill her. His chest tightened. This explained why she shot him.
Marcus closed his eyes.
Elise, why didn't you tell me
? He
forced back the pain, opened his eyes, and refocused on the
letter.

While they were on deck, Robert appeared.
Elise shot her husband. Robert pulled a pistol from his pocket
after she drew on him, and returned fire. Steven took the bullet he
says was meant for his sister. When Steven regained consciousness,
the captain informed him Elise had fallen overboard and that Steven
had tried rescuing her by cutting down the longboat. Steven has no
memory of this.

Ardsley proposed that Robert Kingston wanted
to eliminate Elise in order to claim her shares in Landen Shipping.
Ardsley preached this philosophy with a depth of gravity that Mrs
Hampton described as '"most admirable.'"

I wish I could be of more service. Travel
safely to South Carolina. I look forward to learning of your
success when you return.

Sincerely,

Colonel Martin Shay

"South Carolina," Marcus said in a low voice,
but his mind still staggered with the picture of Robert Kingston
strangling his wife—
my wife
, Marcus's mind shot back. Memory
of her broken body after the carriage crash filled his mind.

The clock that hung on the wall near the door
gonged. He jerked his gaze onto the clock, dispelling the bloody
vision. Six o'clock. Justin would arrive any minute. Even as he
folded the letter with expert precision and set it beside him on
the table, the door opened and Justin entered. A waiter followed
close behind. The waiter pulled Justin's chair out as he seated
himself across from Marcus.