Page 67 of Her Runaway Duke
“Why would you try to kill your lover’s brother?” she asked, even as her heart began to pound faster with the extra shock that the man who had captured her was capable of killing another.
“Because he knew too much of my past,” McGregor said, his face twisting almost evilly. “He provided me a job as a valet, but the duke would never have continued with me had he known some of the things I did.”
“You did them in war,” Siena said, even though she had no idea why she was trying to console the man who had tried to kill Levi. She supposed some habits were hard to erase. “Be that as it may,” she continued, summoning her courage, “Levi didn’t kill his brother. You did.”
“I did not!” McGregor roared. “The duke was only there because Lord Levi had asked to speak with him. About me. And then he arrived late to their meeting. It was his fault entirely.”
“Or so you have convinced yourself,” Siena said softly. “I can understand that is probably how you have been able to live with what you did.”
“He escaped death, but instead he locked himself away in that estate, refusing to spend any time in the world, hiding because of what? A few scars? His brother would never have been so vain.”
“I believe his scars are a reminder of what happened,” Siena said quietly, knowing it was not his appearance which hid Levi away, but rather the constant reminder of how they had occurred.
McGregor only growled, and Siena took this as the opportunity to ask what she really needed to know.
“Why take me? What difference does that make? Is this one of those ‘if I can’t have love, then no one can’ type of situations?”
“Somewhat,” McGregor grumbled. “But there is more to it. Do you not recognize where you are?”
Siena looked around her, peering into the darkness. She had been dragged here with a burlap bag over her head, so she had been unable to see anything, although she suspected from the length of time it had taken them to journey here that they were in London. After McGregor had hauled her onto a horse for a few minutes, they had met a waiting carriage. The drive had been silent and uncomfortable despite the elegance she could feel of the carriage below her.
Saltwater and fish had filled the air as they had walked from the carriage into this building, along with an unmistakable rot that signified the Thames. When they had stepped into the building, a musty smell hinted at its age and abandonment.
He had removed the bag once they were within, but there was nothing to see but worn, wooden walls and scarred flooring. The place was empty. Even the windows were so grimy that she couldn’t see out of them to what she was sure was the river beyond as she could hear both the water as well as the clopping of hooves on the other side.
“Why would you bring me all the way to London?” she demanded. “Why not just take care of this at the estate?”
“Because I struck a deal,” he said with a sigh, as though it troubled him to have done so.
“My father,” she said with a breath, realizing the truth, her heart sinking as any belief she had in her family fled completely.
“I first shared your presence with him and then when I learned of his plight on his first visit to Greystone, I was better prepared for his return. I followed him and told him that I would deliver you to him for a price.”
Ire began to simmer in Siena’s belly that her father would stoop to such lowness, although at least it was more likely that her life was not at risk if he had arranged this.
“What am I worth to you, then?” she asked.
“The duke’s life.”
So much for the panic having dissipated.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, but he was already backing away, shaking his head.
“I have said too much.”
“You have said nothing at all. Do you really think that Levi is going to exchange himself for me?”
“Absolutely. Your father will not have to worry about you seeking an annulment – for your husband will be gone.” He paused. “Not that I care if you survive this or not, but your father would prefer you do.”
Well, that was something, at least.
“What is there to survive?” she forced herself to choke out.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tinder box. When the flame arose, his eyes glinted with it, the grin crossing his face so malicious that it caused Siena’s entire body to shake. She realized then that there was more to McGregor’s malice than she would have thought.
“It was you,” she breathed. “The fire in the stables.”
“It was,” he said with a flourish. “Not my finest work, but then, the exterior of the building was not as flammable as I would have liked.”
