The Laird's Forbidden Lady (28 page)

The boy dropped with a screech. Heart in his throat, Ian caught him and handed him off to his father. He heaved the ladder up against the edge of the opening and dashed up.

Heat hit him in the face like a wall. Nearby, bales of hay were on fire. The floorboards were smouldering. Somehow Selina and the child were standing in a small area free of flames, the remains of a singed boy’s coat in her hands. They were coughing and gasping, the fire crowding in on them. She batted at the flames with the coat.

He grabbed the child and handed her down to her waiting father behind him on the ladder, then, without really quite knowing how it had happened, he had Selina on his shoulder and was making his way down to safety.

As he reached the floor, men were running in with buckets of water. Another was leading the animals out of the barn and others were manhandling the sacks of barley. It looked like they’d be in time.

He carried Selina out and up the hill away from danger. Away from the flames to safety. This was where he wanted her. Safe in his arms.

He set her down, inspected her hands, her face covered in soot, her reddened bare arms, saw the singed hem of her gown and a bone-deep
shudder went through him. Another few moments and it might have been too late.

He pulled her close against his chest. ‘Tell me you are all right.’ His heart was beating so hard he thought it would make a hole in his chest.

She struggled against him and he loosened his grip. ‘I’m all right,’ she said, gazing up at him, her eyes full of shock. ‘The children.’

‘They are in fine fettle,’ McKinly said from right behind him. ‘Tommy, don’t tell me you did that?’

Ian whirled around to stare at the cringing boy.

‘No,’ Selina said. ‘It was Tearny.’

The man he’d seen running out. He’d all but forgotten him in the haste to get to Selina.

Anger burned in his veins at the danger she’d been in. Fury hotter than the flames in that loft. There was only one way to be rid of it. He raked his gaze over the courtyard and saw no one who looked like his erstwhile land agent. He pushed Selina towards McKinly. ‘Take care of them.’

‘Ian, wait!’ she called out. ‘He’s dangerous.’

He couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips. ‘So am I, lass.’

Leaving her with McKinly, he went in search of Tammy McNab. ‘Did you see Tearny pass you by?’

Tammy looked puzzled. ‘He ran up towards the road. To get more help, he said.’

The rodent was running back to his burrow. Ian would catch him long before then. He lengthened his stride and headed up the cart track leading to the road. It wasn’t long before he saw his quarry bent double, catching his breath a few yards from the main road. So he thought he’d escaped.

A smile touched his lips.

The other man must have sensed he was not alone, because he straightened, turning to look back. His jaw dropped. Shock. Horror. He put his head down and ran, but with his paunch, he was no match for Ian’s long stride. Realising his danger, he cut off the road and headed downhill, no doubt thinking to lose Ian among the heather. In his haste, he stumbled over the rough terrain, his feet catching in tussocks that in places were up to his knees.

Within moments, Ian was upon him.

Tearny pivoted, pulling a knife, holding it in front of him, his chest heaving, his eyes wild.

Ian put a hand to his sock and pulled out his dirk. ‘Give it up, Tearny. You can’t get away with it.’ He lunged.

Tearny dodged, then slashed out with the knife. It sliced through Ian’s shirt. It stung like the devil. Blood ran warm down his chest. A quick glance showed little more than a scratch, but the man was quick with a knife. He would have to be more careful.

Tearny grinned. ‘How good of you to come after me. I can finish what I started.’

None of this made any sense. ‘What are you after? I paid your wages in full.’

The man’s grin didn’t falter.

‘Did Albright put you up to this?’

‘The answer won’t matter to a dead man.’

Ian lunged again. If he could get behind his opponent, he could get an arm around his neck.

Tearny twisted away, thrusting with his blade as he went. He missed. His eyes turned wary. Then his gaze shifted. He looked past Ian. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened.

An accomplice? Ian backed around to see what had caught the other man’s attention.

He groaned at the sight of Selina running towards them. Alone. The strength of purpose in the set of her shoulders made him feel proud. And angry. The word wait didn’t seem to exist in her vocabulary.

But she wasn’t alone. McKinly appeared over the brow of the hill, followed by Tammy. He turned to Tearny. ‘Seems you are outnumbered.’

The man turned and fled.

Idiot. There was nowhere to go. Ian raced after him and stared in surprise as the man tripped and went flying. He almost felt sorry for him as he lay in the grass, too stunned to get to his feet.

He didn’t move when Ian reached him. Warily
he turned the man onto his back by the shoulder. His eyes were wide open and full of pain.

For a moment, Ian didn’t understand. Then he saw the hilt of the knife sticking out of his chest. He’d fallen on the blade. Ian’s gut churned. He dropped to his knees.

Tearny’s gaze focused on Ian and he seemed to rally. ‘It is not over, Gilvry. You’ll see. I’ve paid my debt, but yours awaits.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Ian said, pulling off his jacket, thinking to somehow staunch the wound.

Tearny’s breath rattled in his throat and then his eyes were staring sightlessly up at the sky.

Selina came up behind him. He rose and blocked her view of the body as the other men arrived. ‘He’s dead. By his own hand.’

Selina turned her face away, her expression full of doubt.

‘I swear it. I did not touch him.’

‘I know.’

Then why the doubt?

Her gaze dropped to his chest. ‘You are hurt.’

‘A scratch.’

‘Did he say who was behind him in this?’ she asked.

‘No.’ Ian didn’t want to give voice to his suspicions.

‘He admitted to me it wasn’t my father.’

Could she read his mind?

‘I asked him, just before he left us in the barn. He thought my question a great joke. But he wouldn’t say who it was.’

Ian pulled her close and tipped up her tear-streaked face. ‘Then we have something to be glad of, right?’

She nodded and gave him a wobbly smile.

Tammy was staring at the man on the ground. ‘He used to come in the Barleycorn. None of us could understand why he came night after night. It wasn’t for the company. We rarely spoke anything but the Gaelic. Stupid Irishman never could understand a word.’

Selina lifted her head. ‘He threatened Tommy McKinly in Gaelic. I heard him.’

Tammy looked scandalised. ‘He never once showed he could speak the Gaelic.’

‘I think his mother was Scottish. He was some distant relative of Carrick’s. He recommended him to my father,’ Selina said.

Tammy turned pale. ‘The scoundrel. He must have overheard us talking. He betrayed us to the gaugers.’ His face crumpled. ‘Laird, I never guessed he understood a word.’ He cursed.

‘One mystery is solved,’ Ian said, glad it wasn’t one of the clan. But Tearny wasn’t working alone if his last words could be believed. The back of Ian’s neck prickled. He wished like hell he’d been able to get more out of the man. ‘Whoever was behind him might try to strike again.
We will have to be careful who we trust. I hope he was paid well, because he has paid the ultimate price.’ Yet the threat was still there. Selina might have been killed, for the sake of whisky and his clan. And if Tearny had told the truth, the danger wasn’t over.

It was good that she was leaving. Going somewhere she would be safe.

He turned and gestured to the corpse on the ground. ‘Tammy, get him back to the village. We’ll need to inform the coroner. I’ll be back in time to speak to him.’

‘I’ll fetch the cart,’ McKinly said.

Ian put an arm around Selina’s shoulders, wanting to hold her and offer comfort, and take it, too, in the knowledge she was safe, though he knew it was the last thing he should be doing.

She shivered, not from cold, but from the blaze of awareness between them. He felt it course through his blood. ‘The chaise should be back any moment,’ he said.

She didn’t answer.

He slowed his walk, waiting for McKinly and Tammy to get a little ahead of them. He stopped and swung her around to face him. ‘Tearny could have killed you. It is not safe here.’ As he looked down into her face he found himself catching her nape and seeking her lips. A farewell kiss. It was probably the last time he would see her.

She turned her head at the last moment and his kiss landed on her ear. Ears were good. And even though he could smell the smoke from the fire on her, he could also smell the perfume she favoured. Something light and floral.

He glanced over her shoulder and saw the carriage a few yards away, waiting. He had to let her go. It was the right thing to do. He caught her chin between thumb and finger and turned her face.

Anger glowed in her eyes. ‘No, Ian. I won’t let you do that to me again.’ Her lips thinned. ‘It was always about Dunross. I wish you joy of it.’

Startled, he stared at her. Then he realised the truth. It really was over.

He clenched his teeth hard. Balled his hands at his sides. His heart twisted with the knowledge of how badly he had used her. He’d had his chance; if she no longer responded to his kisses, then he had nothing to offer. ‘I’ll walk you up there.’

He took her arm and walked her slowly up the hill to the waiting chaise. His heart felt as heavy as lead. He wanted to say something to fill the silence, but the longer it went on, the more difficult it became, as if the closer they drew to the carriage, the greater the distance between them.

The gap had always been too wide to conquer, even when they were younger.

Once settled on the squabs, Selina leaned forwards
and lowered the window. He let himself imagine that she was having trouble leaving.

‘I really do wish you well, Ian,’ she said softly. ‘I wish it might have been different.’

Over the past few weeks he’d watched her smiles become brighter, heard her laughter become more and more brittle. And if it was Dunstan she wanted, then no matter how he felt he must make things right. He must.

Looking at her now, the smudges of soot on her cheek, the wild tangle of jet hair around her beautiful heart-shaped face, she didn’t look at all out of place here in the wilds of the Highlands, but he had tricked her into this marriage for the sake of his clan. He owed her a debt he could never repay, but, as much as he wanted her to stay, he wanted her happiness more. Since he could not change the past, he had to let her choose how to live her future. He had to give her that gift.

A band tightened around his chest. The pain of loss. But she deserved better than a penniless Laird. She deserved to shine among her own people. To find love. He rubbed at a smudge on her lovely cheek. ‘You look like you’ve been to hell and back.’

Her smile was blade sharp. ‘I’ll repair the damage when we stop to change the horses.’

She couldn’t wait to be gone.

He had only himself to blame. He shouldn’t
have let his weakness for her, his desire, influence his decision the night she came to warn him. He should have left her at the keep and trusted her to keep silent.

‘You’ll find a welcome at my hearth any time you choose to seek it,’ he said, his voice sounding hoarse. He hoped he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt.

Her gaze searched his face. ‘Thank you.’

He fought the urge to drag her from the coach and kiss her into staying, seducing her into forgetting how he’d played her false. Passion was the one thing they had between them that was honest. But passion only lasted until the morning. In the cold light of day he’d once more be faced with the truth.

He made her unhappy.

He covered the small hand gripping the window with his and found it chilled to the bone. She was so fragile, so delicate, so incredibly strong.

‘Are we to leave then, gov?’ the coachman called down from the box.

‘A moment more,’ he said as she began to withdraw into the carriage. There was one thing more to tell her, one gift he had to give, no matter how it tore him in two. He drew in a deep breath. ‘There is something I must tell you.’

She raised a brow.

Was that hope he saw in her eyes? Hope for
what? He shook the thought aside. Hope had no place in what he was about to say. ‘I’m sorry I tricked you into marrying me. Our marriage was … well, it is on pretty shaky ground, even for Scotland. We could probably have it annulled.’

She gasped. Looked shocked.

‘I know.’ He shook his head. ‘It might not work. But a divorce is not out of the question, either.’

Her face looked pale beneath the grim of the smoke. ‘You said nothing of this before.’

‘No.’ He’d kept hoping she would want to stay. But he’d been thinking only of himself. ‘I’ll talk to a solicitor as soon as I can and send you word.’

Her gaze clashed with his and he thought he saw regret in the depths of her eyes. He hadn’t expected that. Was that cause for hope?

‘I see,’ she said coolly. ‘It would have been a whole lot easier if you had let me go the same day my father left, as I suggested.’

Never had he heard her sound so cold. And now he knew the reason for her regret. ‘Yes. I’m sorry. I will set up an account for you at Coutts’s Bank. Draw on it as you find the need until things are settled. I will write and let you know the details.’

She nodded gravely and for a moment she was the large-eyed sprite he’d fallen in love with as
a boy and, feeling like a knight in shining armour, had carried home to his castle.

So soft and sentimental. So weak when it came to this woman. And he’d let his weakness bring her harm.

He stepped back.

‘Promise me you will be careful.’ He heard tears in her voice, but when he looked into her eyes, they were clear and dry.

Too full of emotion to say more, he raised a hand and walked to the front of the carriage.