Page 36 of Married for a Highland Debt
“Sit down and have some wine,” she invited. “You look tired.”
“I have been riding all night,” he informed her. “I need to speak to you.”
She handed him a wine glass, looking puzzled. “It must be important. What can I do for you?”
“I would very much like to find my wife,” he answered grimly, “and I think that you can help me. She was kidnapped yesterday morning.”
“Kidnapped? My God, that is awful!” she looked aghast. “Of course I will help you, Ninian, if I can, but I really do not see what I can do.” She looked at him over the rim of her wine glass, her eyes wary. “I have no idea where she might be. What made you think I would?”
“Oh, but I think you do.” His voice was hard, his eyes like flint. “I think you know exactly where she is and whose hands are holding her.”
She laughed nervously and dropped her gaze to the carpet. “How in heaven would I know that?”
“Because you are in league with the man who has her.” Once more, Ninian stood up and used his height to intimidate his adversary. “Tell me, Margaret, how far along is your pregnancy?”
“About four months,” she answered without hesitation.
“And yet you show no signs of it. None at all.” His voice was deep and threatening as he held her green gaze with his bright blue one. “By this time, I would expect to see a little evidence—a slight bulge, perhaps. Tell me honestly, Margaret, are you with child at all?” He hardly dared to breathe while he waited for her answer.
Margaret sighed and looked away. “No,” she said quietly. “I am not.”
“Then in heaven’s name, why did you say you were?” he roared, thumping his fist on a table and causing a flower-filled crystal vase to fall and shatter into shards on the floor. “Was it to torture me? Embarrass me? Why warn me of something that was never going to happen?”
Somehow, Margaret managed to stand up in front of him. “Because I knew the rumor would get out,” she replied. “I knew that it would only take one person to overhear it, and it would spread like wildfire.”
“To what end?” he asked. “You got what you wanted when we parted, Margaret, including your lover—who, by the way, is welcome to you. How would this be of any benefit to you?”
Margaret’s face suddenly became ugly with rage. “My lover left me a week after we parted,” she spat. “He realized that under the terms of our settlement, he would receive nothing of my money. But that is not why I did it. I did it because Kevin Ogilvy has been paying me to. He has been paying me to split you and Bettina up so that he can take the lairdship away from you. He has a son already, so he has proved his manhood. You have not.”
Ninian was seething with anger. “Count yourself lucky, Margaret,” he growled, “because if you were a man, I would cut you down where you stand. Now, where is Bettie?”
“But I am not, Ninian, am I?” she spat. “Your Bettie is at Kevin’s house, no doubt very well concealed. But this is still my house, and you are not welcome in it! Now leave!” She marched to the door and threw it open.
“For once, we are in agreement, Margaret.” His tone was grim. “I will never again darken your door. Goodbye. We will never meet again.”
Margaret watched him as he left. She had deserted this magnificent man for a faithless lout who was worth less than the ground Ninian walked on. Now she was alone and lonely, having once more made the same mistake.
“Good luck, my love,” she whispered.
19
After another night of hard riding on an empty stomach, Ninian should have been dead on his feet, but he was fueled by a rage so potent that it gave him the strength to go on. He would find Bettina today. He was determined.
He reached the village of Inchgarvie by dawn and broke his fast at a local tavern whose astonished landlord had only been persuaded to open his establishment by the offering of five shillings.
“Thank ye, M’Laird!” the man said joyfully, looking at the pile of silver in his palm.
Ninian smiled at him. “I am sorry to have disturbed you, Jim, but even a laird needs to eat!” He leaped onto his stallion again, and the landlord ran inside to tell his family the good news. Suddenly the horrible laird was not so bad anymore.
A few moments later, Ninian appeared at Kevin Ogilvy’s door. Two manservants appeared as soon as he knocked, but he swept them out of his way and marched inside.
“Kevin McDade!” he cried. “I want a word with you!”
To his amazement, Ninian’s uncle stepped out of the parlor with a pleasant smile on his face. “Ah, Ninian!” he exclaimed. “Welcome! What brings you here so early in the morning? Have you had breakfast yet?”
“Yes, I have,” Ninian growled. “But even if I was starving, I would not eat or drink with you. Where is Bettina?”
“Ah. Now this may take a little while, so come and have a drink with me,” Kevin offered, ushering Ninian into the parlor.
