Page 28 of Highland Crown
The lieutenant walked to a side table. He moved with lithe, catlike grace. Retrieving his sword, he strapped it on and picked up a pistol.
“We’ll be going soon. But before we do, would you care to explain to this woman who you are?” he asked, tucking the firearm into his belt. “Or does she already know? Which of course makes her an accomplice, as well.”
The avalanche of so-called British justice was already cascading down on them. For Isabella, there was no protection. Her courage was depleted. But she couldn’t allow Jean to become a casualty in this tragedy. She sent her companion a look of silent gratitude.
“This woman knows nothing of any of this,” she said, facing her captors. “She has nothing to do with any of it. I only paid her to bring me here. Let her go.”
Before another word could be uttered, a loud knock sounded, and the door swung open. The innkeeper stood awkwardly on the threshold.
“Beg yer pardon, sir, but—”
“Out!” the sergeant roared, beginning to close the door.
“But I’ve a gentleman here. Says he’s a ship’s master. Making a ruckus, he was, in the taproom. Says he has a complaint about two women.” He paused and stared at Isabella and Jean. “About these two, or I’ll be hanged.”
“I warned you that we werenotto be interrupted,” Davidson barked.
“Wait,” Lieutenant Hudson ordered. “What complaint?”
“The gentleman says these two shot him with a pistol. Then they trussed him up and threw him in the back of their cart, he says. Left him there to die.”
Suddenly, the innkeeper was pulled back from the doorway, and Cinaed walked into the room, causing the sergeant to step back.
“I can speak for myself.” His voice was hoarse and weak.
Isabella was never happier to see anyone in her life, but he was not in very good shape. His coat and vestwere gone, and there was fresh blood on his ruined shirt.
He closed the door, but as he turned and took a step into the room, he staggered. Isabella caught him by the waist before he fell. The man was burning with fever, and he leaned heavily on her.
“You are bleeding again,” she murmured. This wasn’t good. After all he’d gone through, the stitches had to have ripped free. He tried to take another step, but he was too heavy. She couldn’t support his weight, and he began sinking to the floor.
“What is this?” Hudson demanded, coming closer. “What do you have to say, man?”
Cinaed sat, holding her as she eased him down. “These two women kidnapped me.”
He had to be delirious with fever. Last night he’d tried to choke her, so she knew Cinaed was capable of anything in this state.
Isabella started to open his shirt, but he caught her wrist.
“Let me see what’s happened to your wound,” she said.
Their faces were close, and their gazes locked. No word was spoken, but she saw clarity in his blue eyes.
“Who is this?” Hudson leaned over to see for himself. “How do you know him?”
Isabella didn’t see Cinaed’s hand move, but suddenly he was holding the officer’s pistol with the muzzle pressed up under the lieutenant’s chin.
CHAPTER9
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
—Sir Walter Scott, “Lochinvar,” Canto V
The man’s ice-blue eyes reflected the barely restrained fury of a killer. Not just any killer, he was an officer in one of the British empire’s elite mounted regiments, trained in the craft of death.
Isabella had good reason to be afraid.
