Page 82 of Highland Crown
“I do enjoy a spirited competition, when it benefits me,” he said. “And our little game has benefited me greatly since the day you two escaped Stoneyfield House. Now, I have a face for every treasonous act that has occurred since we arrived here.”
She backed around a corner into another hallway, and he followed.
“The rescue of John Gordon.” He smiled. “The destruction ofHMS Pittin retaliation for Searc’s pending execution. More celebration for me. And of course, hearing our spies constantly speaking of thisliberatorwho’s returned to his people. With his Lowland bride on his arm. It all came together for me last night. My superiors in Edinburgh… in London… will be falling over themselves in their gratitude and their desire to decorate me.”
“Still, why take Searc Mackintosh?”
“Ah, women never understand the art of war. It’s difficult for you to appreciate the brilliance of a finely wrought military maneuver.” He dragged his nails along the wall as he advanced. “All corruption leads back to this house. Pull Searc Mackintosh from his lair, and the so-called son of Scotland would surely show his face.”
Panic clutched Isabella’s chest. It wasn’t only her ownlife that she worried about, but Cinaed’s. Hudson knew everything about him. Because of her, they had a name. And then wherever he was, be it Inverness, Dalmigavie Castle, Halifax, or the far side of the Antipodes, they’d go after him.
“I believe your husband’s weakest move came this morning. Such a simpleton, after all. To think I’d ever go to a place so convenient for an ambush, even to haveyouturned over to me.”
She backed away quicker, and he lengthened his strides.
“You can kill me,” she told him. “But you will never have him.”
“Well, my dear. Killing you is only an eventuality. You’ll serve me much better as bait. I’ve seen how he reacts when you’re in trouble. And in my hands, you’re about to learn what real trouble is.”
Isabella turned and yanked open a door. Dashing through it, she found what she wanted.
Hudson entered, and his eyes lit up. He stared at the portrait above the fireplace as if he’d found the Holy Grail.
The rain was falling harder, an unexpected gift from the heavens. The fires were coming under control, though it appeared the distillery would be lost.
Buckets continued to be passed from hand to hand, men and women working hard to douse the flames and keep the fires from spreading farther.
Cinaed stepped out of the line and drew his saber when he spotted two Hussars at the end of a lane. Seeinghim, they quickly wheeled their horses and put the spurs to their flanks. It hadn’t taken long to rout Hudson’s men, and those who hadn’t already fled were fast disappearing.
“That coward Hudson never showed his ugly face.” Blair walked up the lane behind him. “No one’s caught even a whiff of the poxy cur.”
“I’ll find the devil, wherever he is hiding. And I’ll make him pay with his blood for all of this.”
An old man staggered from an alley and leaned exhausted against a wall. Cinaed nudged his steed closer and saw his hands were burned.
“I’ll take yer place in the line,” Blair offered, “if ye want to take him to get them hands looked at.”
They’d arrived at the Maggot in the midst of a disaster. But his mind had never strayed from Isabella. He knew how close she was to the danger.
Helping the old man into the malt house a few minutes later, he handed him into Jean’s care and looked around for Isabella.
The floor of the entire room was crowded with people. As he walked through, the smell of burned flesh and wool stung his nostrils. The wide eyes of children looked up from soot-covered faces. He took buckets of water from a lad and carried them across the room. A man needed to be helped in from the lane. Picking up a lost child, he searched until he found a neighbor who knew her. Cinaed remained there, helping where he could.
These were his people. The keen edge of guilt cut into him, for he knew that he was as responsible as Hudson for the pain reflected in their lives. He’d expected a reprisal, but he thought he could control it. He’d been outflanked, and it hurt him. Next time, he’d be smarter.
Isabella. He hadn’t seen her. He looked over the crowd and found Carmichael, instead. When was it he’d seen the surgeon last? He couldn’t remember. The man’s shoulders sagged from the suffering around him.
“Where is she?” he asked the surgeon when he reached him.
Carmichael straightened and looked around. “I… I don’t know.”
“When did you last see her?”
The surgeon shook his head. Cinaed forced himself to stay calm and moved to one of the women he’d seen earlier. And then on to the next, asking the same question. Finally, a young woman holding a small soot-covered child told him she thought she’d seen his wife go out into the lane, but that was ages ago.
Ages ago?
He didn’t know how he found his way out of the building, for his eyes were blind to everything as he searched for a glimpse of her. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the roaring in his head. His brain was telling him over and over that no one had seen Hudson. Now Isabella was missing.
