Part 25 (1/2)
”Jack, I cannot stay behind locked doors,” Fiona protested. ”I am sure there is an explanation, and-” ”No, Fiona,” Gregor said. ”Do as Kincaid says.” Identical shocked expressions crossed Jack's and Dougal's faces. Fiona scowled. ”I am not going to be locked away like a porcelain teacup.” ”We must find a safe place for you to stay until we find out what's going on.” When they reached Kincaid House, Jack told the groom, ”Find Mrs. Tarlington. Tell her to attend her ladys.h.i.+p in our bedchamber.” Jack handed Fiona down to John the footman, swung down himself, and reclaimed Fiona. ”John, see that her ladys.h.i.+p's saddle is put in my library. I want to examine it in better light.”
Then he carried her up to their room. He tucked her into bed, frowning when she caught her breath as he slid her between the sheets.
Within the half hour, the doctor arrived and prescribed a daily hot soak in a tub with special liniment.
Fiona hated the liniment, which smelled like rotten potatoes, but Jack insisted she use it. He also allowed her to sit in the library afterward and drink her tea, which was a blessing.
Jack watched her every move with dark eyes. Twice she asked him what he was thinking, and twice he didn't answer, pacing the room silently.
Finally, she set down her teacup with a clink and said, ”Jack, will youplease sit down?”
He turned a surprised face to her. ”I didn't mean to annoy you. I'm just a bit out of sorts.”
”We both are.” She gave him a wry smile and pressed a hand to her stomach. ”You are making me seasick with all that pacing.”
”I'm sorry,” he said ruefully. He opened his mouth, stopped, then burst out, ”Fiona, I hated our argument last night. I don't want you to think that I wish you harm. I would gladly have taken that fall myself rather than see you suffer.”
Her heart leapt. ”Why...why do you feel that way?”
His gaze raked across her, hot and possessive. ”You are my wife.”
The words were a branding. She found herself looking at him, too. Her husband. At the broad expanse of his shoulders. At the muscled length of his thighs and- She looked away, her cheeks hot. That cursed liniment made her thoughts run smoky and hot. She slid her hands into the pockets of her day gown, wis.h.i.+ng she had something to keep her mind off her husband 's far too attractive thighs.
”Fiona, while the doctor was with you, I looked at the saddle. The strap was cut in two and then bound to look as if it was intact. I think we should leave London.”
”What?”
”Aye. We've been invited to a wedding in Scotland, so we could go there for a sennight. It's near your home, so you could see your brothers, too.”
She made a face. ”I have seen more than enough of Dougal and Gregor.”
Jack smiled grimly. ”So have I.”
”Jack, they don't blame you, do they?”
”They might. Dougal mentioned several times that I gave you that horse.”
”You've also given me clothes. I suppose if I am found strangled with one of my own stockings, he will think that a clue, too.”
Jack didn't laugh.
She sighed.
”Fiona, I don't relish the thought of going to this wedding, but it's a valid reason to leave town.”
She rubbed her shoulder, where a dull ache burned. ”I cannot think who might want me gone. Do you think it was Lucinda? Because I embarra.s.sed her?”
”No, but it might be Campbell.” Jack raked a hand through his hair. ”There is something about him that I don't trust.”
”Why would he do such a thing?”
”I don't know. Yet.” Jack came to a halt in front of her. ”Fiona, Scotland will be safer for us.”
”I know. It's just...” She threaded her fingers together, fighting to hide a wince. She was getting more stiff and sore by the minute.
There was no disguising the concern in Jack's eyes. Just a short hour ago, they had been arguing fiercely. Now, they were shoulder to shoulder as they dealt with this new danger.
Fiona forced a smile. ”So. We are to go to a wedding? Who is getting married?”
Jack flashed her a relieved smile. ”A gentleman I went to Eton with. He and I have kept in touch.”
”It will be nice to get out of town.” She began to shrug, then gasped with pain.
Jack went to the sideboard and poured a gla.s.s of brandy, then brought it to her. ”This will help. Just sip it.”
She took it and sniffed it gingerly. ”I don't think-”
He exploded. ”For the love of G.o.d, don't youever do what you are asked?”
Fiona closed her eyes, her throat suddenly tight. She was so tired, so afraid, and every muscle in her body was bruised and swollen.
The settee cus.h.i.+ons sank as Jack sat beside her. ”I know things seem dark, Fiona,” he whispered, pulling her against him, ”but they will get better. I promise they will.”
Fiona sipped the brandy to please Jack. After the third sip, a pleasant numbness seeped through her. It warmed her bruised body and soaked into her sore muscles. Her eyes grew heavy, and she closed them for a moment just to rest them...
Jack knew the second she fell asleep. The gla.s.s slipped from her hand, but he caught it just in time and set it on the table. Then he rested his cheek against Fiona's hair, careful not to disturb her.
In London, they were obvious targets, their habits too well known, Kincaid House too large to protect. In Scotland, they'd have the advantage. There they would have the time to work their way through this mystery.
Jack looked down at where Fiona slept against his shoulder, her eyes closed, her lashes fanned over her cheeks.
He had to get Fiona to safety. Immediately.
Chapter Nineteen.
We Scots love a good weddin' and a bad funeral. Sometimes 'tis difficult to tell which is which.
OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND.
TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT.
”Oh, Lord Kincaid! Lord Kincaid!” A woman waved wildly from the portico of the country house. ”It's me, Miss Hatfield! Oh,do say you remember me!”
Jack helped Fiona as she climbed from the carriage, murmuring in her ear, ”Don't look now, but it's the bride.”