Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

One thing about the Irish, they knew how to blend into the woods. The duke was no slouch when it came to creeping up on a structure. Bruce barely heard the other man as he made his way around the side of the house. Most of the curtains were drawn, but the ones that were open revealed rooms empty of furniture and -people.

He didn’t see a sign of Ceana or Henderson. Had the Irish gotten it wrong?

Breandan approached them. “The carriage’s here,” he said. “It’s the same one that passed us on the road.”

That didn’t mean it was Henderson’s, a thought he didn’t bother to convey to the duke. If they didn’t find anything in a few minutes, he was all for abandoning this location and following his original plan.

He was about to pass the fourth window when he saw Ceana stretched out on the settee.

What the hell had Henderson done to her? He thought he couldn’t be angrier, but his temper ratcheted up a notch.

He moved to one side of the window, his back to the house.

“She’s not asleep,” the duke said from beside him. “Has he drugged her?”

He shook his head. Anger didn’t do him any good. He needed a plan. There were four of them, but he didn’t know how many men were employed by Henderson.

“He’s nailed all the windows shut,” the duke said.

“The back door looks the best bet,” Ardan said.

Bruce didn’t want all four of them rushing the same entrance. Looking up, he gauged the distance to the second floor then studied the oak tree next to the house. He hadn’t climbed a tree in years.

“Once I get inside,” he said to the duke, “you and your brothers make it through the back door.”

The duke nodded.

He swung himself up, hoping the branches close to the window were thick enough to bear his weight. A squirrel chittered at him, evidently upset he’d invaded the animal’s domain. Sliding out on the largest branch, he made his way closer to the house. The creaks and groans beneath him made him wonder if he’d make it. It wouldn’t be a fatal fall but it would alert the -people inside.

He grabbed the windowsill with one hand, pushing the window sash up with the other. With any luck, he hadn’t chosen a window in a room currently occupied.

Gauging the distance, he swung off the branch, dangling from both arms. Swimming had increased his upper body strength. He swung his legs up until he placed one knee on the windowsill then pushed himself into the room, turning head over heels until he hit the floor with a thud.

He remained there a moment, listening for sounds of alarm. When there was no sign he’d been heard, he glanced down at the duke, gave him a thumbs--up sign and turned toward the door.

Now to rescue Ceana.

He hadn’t thought to tell the Irish to enter the house quietly, thinking they’d use their common sense and do so. But the duke and his brothers began screaming like banshees the minute they were inside. He could hear them from here.

But by the time he got to the stairs, the three men were in the middle of a melee, fighting three strangers.

He jumped off the staircase, entering the fray, hoping one of the men he punched was Henderson.

Somebody slugged the duke, but other than stumbling backward a few feet, he didn’t howl or whine, merely reciprocated with a decent uppercut.

“Which one is Henderson?” the duke asked.

They should have asked Virginia what the man looked like, but he’d been in such a hurry he hadn’t thought about it.

One of the burly men with a bloody lip and what looked to be a broken nose pointed to a room at the end of the hall.

“He’s in there,” he said. “If it’s Henderson you want.”

Ceana was awakened by two things: the sound of yelling and a slap on her face.

She didn’t know who was yelling, but Paul Henderson was slapping her.

“Get up,” he said. “Now.”

Groggily, she raised herself on one elbow, staring up at him.

“What did you give me?” Why weren’t her lips cooperating? How very odd it was taking so long to form words.

He jerked her to a sitting position and then, before she could tell him her stomach was suddenly very upset, he was pulling her to the other side of the room, one arm around her waist, the other encircling her neck.

She kept blinking but the room was still spinning.

Something was very wrong and it was centered on the shouting from the corridor.

The door opened and Bruce stood there, his shirt torn and his lip bloody. She’d never seen a more welcome sight in her life. Her knees sagged in relief.

“Are you Sinclair?” Henderson asked, dragging her backward.

“No,” Bruce said, moving toward them. “But you might say I’m acting in his stead. Release her. I’ve not the patience to ask twice.”

The second door opened soundlessly to Ceana’s left. She glanced to the side to find the giant standing there. Did Bruce see him? Did she need to warn him?

“I think not. It’s Virginia I want.”

“You’re a fool to try to bargain now. We’ve subdued your men and you’re outnumbered.”

She struggled in Henderson’s grip. His arm tightened painfully around her neck until she could barely breathe. He really needed to release her before she was sick.

The giant swung back his arm. Suddenly, Henderson crumpled to the floor.

She almost joined him, but Bruce was there holding her upright as the room spun around her.

She was shaking like a newborn colt, holding onto Bruce as she stared at the man who’d both kidnapped her from Drumvagen and saved her. In his hand was a large iron skillet.

“Why?”

“Did you mean what you said about giving me money?” he asked.

There was something to be said for a mercenary man. They were so much easier to understand. Evidently, the giant decided to cut his losses.

She nodded, decided the movement was making her dizzier, then looked at Bruce.

“Have you any money with you? Give this man everything you have, please. I’ll reimburse you once were back at Drumvagen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He led her back to the settee while the giant stood guard over Henderson.

The door opened wider and Irishmen flooded into the room. She stared at her brothers--in--law in shock. Why should she be so surprised? Ever since she’d been abducted life had not been normal.

Behind Dennis was Ardan and Breandan, following him as they normally were. The insufferable followed by the inconsiderate and the inarticulate.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“We came to bring you home.”

“I don’t need you to come after me as if I’m a child, Dennis.”

“You left Iverclaire without asking us, didn’t you?”

“I don’t require your permission to live my life, Dennis.”

“We’ll talk about this when we get home,” he said, shooting a glance at Bruce.

“I can imagine Macrath will have something to say about that,” Bruce said.

He wrapped one arm around her and she gladly welcomed it, wishing she didn’t feel like she was going to faint at any moment.

“I want to go home,” she said to Bruce. “Not Iverclaire,” she added, frowning at Dennis. “To Drumvagen.”