My Heart's in the Highlands by Angeline Fortin (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📗
- Author: Angeline Fortin
Book online «My Heart's in the Highlands by Angeline Fortin (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📗». Author Angeline Fortin
“He will!” Daphne screeched, calming whenGirard shushed her. “Now, will you come along peaceably ornot?”
Hero knew she should agree for the sake ofothers within the castle but couldn’t bring the words of concessionto her lips. She couldn’t simply relent to such insanity. Hermulish resistance didn’t seem to surprise Daphne at all. Indeed,reluctant respect seemed to light her green eyes.
Daphne shrugged. “I didn’t really expectcapitulation but I have come prepared.” With that, she drew a smallbottle and a cloth from her pocket. Uncorking the bottle, shedoused the cloth and approached Hero while Girard did the same,holding the gun to Hero’s head.
“Just take a few deep breaths, Madam Ayr,” hesaid encouragingly. “The choice is really out of your hands.”
“What are you getting from all this?”
His dark eyes lit. “Ah, madam, the rewardsthey are many, you see?”
“I can double whatever she is paying you!”Hero cried as he grabbed her arm and turned her against him. Daphnetwisted Hero’s other arm and pressed the cloth over her mouth andnose. Thrashing her head from side to side, Hero fought to dislodgethe cloth but could not fight against the two of them. Her bodytingled then numbed. Her vision darkened and her head swam.
Just before darkness claimed her, Hero feltGirard’s lips at her ear. “Non, madam, you cannot.” And then toDaphne, “Careful, ma chère, she must walk from here, not becarried.”
The cloth moved away, and Hero inhaleddeeply. Clean air brought light to her vision, but Hero’s headremained thick, her thoughts scattered, as if she’d just drunk awhole bottle of wine herself. She staggered to the side, but Girardcaught her arm and hooked an arm around her waist. Vaguely sheheard him instruct Daphne to make sure the way was clear, andwithin moments, Hero was inside Girard’s closed carriage, which hadbeen waiting for him in the north courtyard inside the rampartwalls.
To her surprise, one of her own grooms cameto the carriage window. “Dickie’s at the gate right now fer ye,Miss Kennedy. Yer clear through if ye go now.”
“Thank you, Ranald,” Daphne said, smilingprettily up at him and running a finger down his cheek. “Gather himup after I’ve gone and come to me in Ayr for your reward.”
“Aye, miss.” Ranald cast a regretful look atHero but shrugged and turned away.
“How many?” Hero slurred.
“How many of your faithful servants have cometo my side?” Daphne asked with a little laugh. “Don’t fret for LordAyr, Hero. The rest of his staff are loyal, and in time I will havetheir loyalty as well.”
The horse leapt into action and Hero’s nearlylimp body slammed back against the seat, her head hitting thecarriage wall so hard she saw stars, not only at the pain but alsoat the shock of what she had just learned. Not only was Daphnebehind all this but she had Hero’s staff at her beck and call.Young Ranald had been here for years. His father had run thestables for more years than Hero had been about.
And Dickie. A lad of about twenty. His motherhad worked in the kitchens for just as long. These young men, Herothought. These young, impressionable men had somehow been seducedfrom their loyalty to the castle they had grown up in and won overby Daphne’s persuasive charms. Had there been more? How could shehave not known? “Just them?” she asked.
“I told you,” Daphne answered. “Just the ladsI needed to get you out of there. They are so easilyimpressionable. Not real men.” She slid her hand up Girard’s thighwith a siren’s smile.
“And Jennings?”
“Ah, well, Jennings is another matterentirely,” Daphne told her. “Funny, all he really wanted was thepower. He’d had a taste of it before Uncle Robert married you andhad it again when you left. With the promise of more, he was allmine.”
“You are a vile woman, Daphne,” Hero groundout. Her head was beginning to clear now, and the feeling wasreturning to her extremities. She needed to do something. Butwhat?
“Not vile,” Daphne retorted sharply.“Determined. Determined to take for myself what life has notprovided.”
“I think you took Charlotte Bronte’s work tooliterally,” Hero said, looking out the window as the gravel drivecarried them across the lawns and toward the aqueduct that markedher last true chance for help. If she didn’t get out of thecarriage before they left the estate, she might very well bedragged all the way to France. God only knew what future awaitedher there. “It was fiction, Daphne, not a bible.”
“It was truth!” Daphne shouted, waving offGirard’s attempts to calm her.
There! Hero saw it then. Dickie might bemanning the gates, prepared to let Daphne steal her through, butthere were others, dozens of others, patrolling the grounds. Shecould see them, a pair of her huntsmen on horseback heading awayfrom the drive.
With the gates just a few score feet away,Hero used all of her strength to thrust herself out the window andscreamed for help at the top of her lungs. “Thomas!” she screechedas loud as she could. “Andrew …” Hero gasped as Girard grabbed heraround the waist and yanked her back in, but she threw her head andshoulders back against his face and screamed once again,“Help!”
The coachman whipped the horses into a run inan attempt to get away, tossing Hero and Girard back against thecushions. Daphne, in the rear-facing seat, fell to the floor with acurse.
There were shouts.
A gunshot.
Chapter Thirty-Three
They had her.
Even more than twenty-four hours later, Iancouldn’t help but smile at the thought. His only regret was that hehadn’t been able to spare Hero her brief abduction or to see to herrescue himself. Yesterday had seen the delivery of Daphne and allher accomplices into the magistrate’s hands, and today the castlecelebrated. It seemed only fitting that the summer solsticefestival was taking place in Ayr that day. An actual party withfood, wine, and music for his entire staff to enjoy, but for himand Hero a more private celebration was in order.
They were free. Free of the troubles.
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