Chapter 29

W here, in God's name, was Jessie?

Robert paused, his horse on the edge of Auldgate Close, looking frantically up and down the Royal Mile for any sign of his stepmother's sedan chair. Although the traffic was relatively sparse for this time of the day, his vision was hindered by the bucketing rain.

A torrent of fear coursed through his veins. His stepmother had kidnapped Jessie, he was certain of it. He castigated himself for having sent on Simon's letter to Strathburn House before he'd returned from seeing off the Phoenix . He should have anticipated that Caroline was capable of acting both rashly and callously, that she would not hesitate to take an eye for an eye. The woman had already demonstrated that she was corrupt to the very core.

Yet again his lack of foresight and judicious planning—brought about by his own arrogant overconfidence—had placed his beautiful young wife, the light who warmed his own dark soul, in imminent danger.

If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

Fortunately, Gordon had seen Jessie and his stepmother climb into the countess's sedan chair less than ten minutes ago. They couldn't have gone far in this weather. But where would they be headed?

Robert narrowed his eyes against the icy splinters of driving rain and glanced down toward the end of the Canongate. The White Horse Inn and Holyrood Park lay that way. If Caroline was going to spirit Jessie away—or worse—he guessed she might head in that direction, rather than up the hill toward Edinburgh Castle where the Scots Guard regiment was stationed. Of course, there could be any number of obscure wynds or closes she could have directed her sedan down. If that were the case, it would be near on impossible to locate Jessie swiftly.

Robert angled his horse out into the main thoroughfare. The gutters and cobblestones were aflood—the conditions were indeed treacherous underfoot. The urge to travel faster than a steady trot was strong, but he kept his impatience tightly reined in. It would be easy for anyone, pedestrian or horse alike, to slip over on the road in this weather. He pushed down another surge of fear for Jessie; she must be terrified. And the idea of her being hurt, or worse… Robert's breath all but froze in his lungs. No, he must not panic. He needed to focus on locating the sedan, not on wild imaginings.

He'd traveled perhaps only a hundred yards down the Canongate when he noticed a commotion ahead not far from the gates of Holyrood. Voices shouting, a warning bell clanging, the distinctive neigh of a terrified horse.

What the hell had happened? Instinct told him it had something to do with Jessie.

Ignoring the risk, he kicked his horse forward toward the chaos in the street…and stopped short of what could possibly be a tableau from his worst nightmare. Between the wheel shafts of a splintered cart and the legs of the gathering crowd, he caught the fleeting glimpse of someone on the ground moaning horribly and writhing.

Oh no, no, no . His heart hurtling against his ribs, Robert leapt from his horse and pushed through the shocked bystanders.

Not Jessie . Thank God . It was a man—a sedan chair bearer by the looks of him—with a shocking ankle fracture. He winced in sympathy before scanning the faces around him.

Still no sign of his wife.

Then he saw it. Close by, beside the toppled cart stood his stepmother's sedan chair, the door hanging open. Hell, was Jessie inside? Injured?

Fear knifing through him again, Robert forced his way through the crowd and rushed over to the sedan.

There was no one inside.

Holy hell . Robert didn't know whether to curse God or thank him.

He straightened and turned around, scouring the dark openings to all of the nearby closes and wynds, then beyond the scene of the accident to the Abbey Close and Holyrood Park. Down Horse Wynd? Toward the busy road to Abbey Hill and Leith? Jessie must be close by. It was almost as if he could sense her presence.

There. Farther along, well past the Water Gate . He could just make out two female figures—one slender and redheaded, he'd wager—rounding a corner into another street.

Caroline was surely armed . Jessie would never have gone with his stepmother unless she had been compelled to. Thank Christ he'd thought to bring his own weapon—a pistol. Tucked into the waistband of his breeches at the small of his back, Robert's greatcoat hid it from view. Being seen with a proscribed weapon certainly wouldn't do him any favors if the Town or Scots Guard were about…or the High Constable stationed at the main gate into Holyrood. His probation could be revoked for even the most minor of transgressions, and that could not happen.

Not now he had a life worth living.

After finding and mounting his horse, Robert maneuvered the gelding through the crush of onlookers, then spurred him into a fast trot down Leith Road to the side street.

Yes. There they were at the end of the lane, heading toward a stand of trees and the edge of the wild common leading up to Calton Hill. Not wanting to waste time, but keenly aware that a silent approach was in order, Robert slid from his horse halfway along the narrow thoroughfare and handed the reins and a crown to an urchin boy lurking in the shadows between two boarding houses. He would follow on foot. Observe, then take action as required.

The sheeting rain continued unabated. It obscured Robert's gaze, but it also masked the splash of his footfalls as he traversed the muddy lane. Although his heart thundered in his chest and his belly twisted with anxiety, he couldn't afford to give into thought-robbing panic. He needed to keep a clear head. For Jessie.

On reaching the copse he halted and took cover, listening hard.

"Lady Strathburn, I willna go with you."

Jessie. His gut instincts had been right.

His stepmother spoke, her voice dripping with malice. "Ah, so you obviously want a bullet in you right now then?—"

"You bluff, Lady Strathburn. You will no' have a hope of ever seeing yer son again if ye kill me. Robert will see to that, ye can be sure."

Good lass. Stall . Robert chanced a glance around the trees. There was a carriage. A tall, gaunt-faced, slightly built man seemed to be in the process of unlatching the carriage door and putting down the steps.

Caroline's next utterance reached Robert's ears and his blood raced, hot and angry through his veins. "Well, perhaps Baird can provide you with some incentive to cooperate. You'll get in the carriage, or I'll get him to fuck you right here, right now while I watch."

Robert ground his teeth together. Over my dead body . Dispose of Baird, then deal with Caroline . They wouldn't be going anywhere if there was no one to drive the carriage.

Taking advantage of the fact that everyone currently had their backs turned to him, Robert bent low and dashed over to a bedraggled clump of gorse bushes and a broken wooden fence to his left.

Hang on, my love, I'm close . Indeed, Jessie was less than a few yards away now. He caught a glimpse of Caroline's weapon—a heavy dueling pistol, by the looks of it—pressed into Jessie's back as the countess roughly pushed his handfasted wife toward the carriage.

Shit. He prayed his stepmother didn't have itchy fingers.

Baird stood to the side, near the traces, smirking as he stroked his groin with one hand, his attention on Jessie as she began to lift her skirts to climb into the carriage. Bastard.

Robert pulled his pistol out from the back of his breeches and focused his concentration, preparing to strike. A nice, clean hit to the back of the cur's head with the butt of his weapon would do.

Five fast paces, a short cracking blow and Baird was down. "Step away from Jessie, Caroline," Robert growled as he trained his pistol straight at his stepmother's head, "or you'll be dead before you know what's hit you."

Caroline shrieked and hauled Jessie up against her own body. The bitch might be trying to use Jessie as a shield, but at least her pistol was now aimed at him. "What have you done with my son?" she screeched, her aim wavering wildly as she spat out each word. Her face was white except for two ugly blotches of red, high on her cheekbones.

Jessie whimpered. Her eyes were wide, terrified. "Robert?—"

Caroline yanked cruelly on Jessie's hair with her free hand. "Shut your mouth," she screamed.

Hell, the woman was more unstable than Robert had ever realized. He swallowed past the tight ball of fear suddenly jamming his throat. God knew what his stepmother would do . "Put the pistol down, Caroline, and I'll take you to Simon. I assure you, he's fine."

"Liar," cried the countess. "I don't believe you." There was a click—the distinct sound of a weapon being cocked.

Christ.

"No!" Jessie twisted in Caroline's grip, attempting to wrest away the pistol.

"Let go, you bitch." Caroline's face had contorted into an ugly, hate-filled mask. For the space of a heartbeat, the two women grappled with each other to gain control over the weapon.

Sweet Jesus Christ, no. If anything happened to Jessie… Robert lurched forward just as the women slipped in the mud and toppled to the ground, Jessie on top of Caroline.

A shot rang out.

No, no, no . "Jessie!" Terror ripping through him as surely as the bullet that had just been discharged, Robert lurched forward and eased Jessie away from his stepmother. Blood. On both of them . No . "Jessie, love?"

"I'm all right, Robert." Jessie reached for him and he fell into the mud holding her, rocking her in his arms as she sobbed against his neck. "I-I dinna ken what happened. I didna mean for the pistol to go off, but I thought she would kill you. It…it was an accident. Thank God, ye are all right too."

Yes. Thank God. As head-spinning relief swept through him, Robert stroked Jessie's dripping, tangled hair and her shuddering back. Safe. His beautiful wife was safe. He could scarcely fathom it. Not wanting to, but knowing that he had to, he then glanced down at his stepmother. She'd been shot in the chest. Left side. Stone dead.

We need to get away from here . "Jessie, lass. We must move. If anyone finds us with Lady Strathburn…"

Jessie sucked in a sharp breath and pulled back from his tight embrace. "Oh, my Lord, ye're right. Ye especially. Ye canna be seen here."

As they both clambered to their feet, Jessie's legs buckled momentarily. Robert swore and pulled her against him. After he'd pushed his pistol into the waistband at the front of his breeches, he shrugged off his greatcoat and wrapped it around her shaking body. He then swept her into his arms. "Hopefully my horse is still where I left him."

Thank heavens the young boy he'd entrusted was reliable. The lad accepted another handful of coins without a word, flashed Robert a gap-toothed grin, then scurried off into the murky shadows of one of the tenement houses. After placing Jessie on his mount, Robert swung up behind her and turned his horse in the direction of the Canongate again.

"Are we g-going home?" asked Jessie through chattering teeth.

Robert pulled her close against him as they trotted down the lane. "I'm afraid we're going to return to the scene of the accident , mo chridhe . There will be the Scots Guard, or at the very least the Town Guard looking about the place by now. They won't fail to notice the Strathburn coat of arms on the side of Caroline's sedan chair, and when questioned—and we undoubtedly will be—we will both attest that you've been there the whole time, and that I came upon you by chance after I'd farewelled the Phoenix . I'm counting on the fact that confusion is still reigning, and no one will have noticed our comings and goings. That no one will suspect that we've had anything to do with my stepmother's demise."

Jessie nodded. "I pray that ye are right. But…but what if the authorities arrest someone who's not to blame for what happened to Lady Strathburn?"

"Hopefully, that won't happen," Robert said grimly. "But I'll cross that particular bridge if it comes to it. Rest assured, I will not let an innocent take the blame for Caroline's death. However, my main objective at present is to protect you."

As they approached the foot of the Canongate, Robert could see a huge flurry of activity still around the sedan chair accident site. He estimated they must have only been gone ten minutes. With any luck, no one would have looked for Jessie or the countess yet.

He dismounted, then helped Jessie to alight. He took her hand. "Do you think you can walk from here?"

She nodded and gave him a tremulous smile "Aye."

Within half a minute, they'd reached the Royal Mile again. Robert secured his mount and then drew Jessie into the dark entrance of a nearby close so he could gather her into his arms. He could still barely believe she'd survived this nightmare unharmed. Crushing her body against his, he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. Tears escaped from his eyes and mingled with the rain on his face and hers as he showered light kisses across her forehead and eyelids and cheeks. "Are you sure you're not hurt, my love?"

"I'm fine," Jessie murmured breathlessly, reaching up to push his wet hair away from his face. Her eyes locked with his, but he could see their expression was more solemn than relieved. She couldn't hide from him. The shadows of her ordeal still lingered in their depths and most probably would for some time to come. "Ye probably gathered yer stepmother was trying to kidnap me—to ransom me for Simon's return. I dinna know how ye found me."

"Gordon saw you leaving with my stepmother. Then the accident caught my attention. It's unfortunate, but if it hadn't been for that… I'll make sure the poor chairman and any family he has are well compensated."

Jessie nodded, then closed her eyes briefly before she focused her gaze back on him. "What about Baird, yer brother's valet?"

The muscles of Robert's jaw bunched tightly. "I'm sure that he's already come to, and if he has any brain at all, he'll beat a hasty retreat. He can go to hell, along with Simon and my stepmother. It's no less than they all deserve." As much as it grated, he was inclined to let Baird skulk away. And as Simon was now gone, he doubted he'd ever see the servant's face again. Baird was just damned lucky the terms of his probation tied his hands in meting out any form of real justice.

The clanging of another bell drew Robert's attention to the street. Reluctantly letting Jessie go, he turned around. An ambulance cart had at last arrived and the injured chairman was being moved onto a stretcher. A pair of Scots Guard soldiers and a few of the Town Guards could also be seen in amongst the other members of the crowd. In fact, the uninjured sedan chair attendant speaking with one of the dragoons suddenly pointed Jessie's way. Robert's heart rate kicked up a notch. It wouldn't be long before someone would want to question her. They would most certainly ask about the whereabouts of Lady Strathburn.

"Despite everything yer stepmother did…I'm verra sorry that things have ended this way," Jessie murmured. Emotion had thickened her voice. "For yer father's sake, at least. He must have loved her once."

Robert turned back, amazed at Jessie's capacity for compassion and forgiveness. She truly was a beautiful soul. He drew her into his arms again to not only offer her comfort but to reassure himself she really was safe…and that was when he felt the butt of his pistol pressing sharply into his hip bone.

Damn , bloody damn. If the Scots Guard or the Town Guards saw it, he was done for.

As surreptitiously as he could, Robert slid the pistol behind his back and tucked it into his breeches, praying his woolen riding jacket would be enough to conceal the suspicious bulge. He had nowhere better to hide it. His greatcoat was still draped around Jessie's shoulders and she clearly needed it; not only for warmth but to cover the blood stains on the front of her drenched blue gown.

To think he'd nearly lost her…

"I don't care about anything else except for the fact that you are safe, and with me," Robert murmured, gently pushing strands of damp hair away from Jessie's eyes. He cradled her lovely face in his hands, brushing his thumbs lightly along her cheekbones where traces of her tears and the rain still lingered. His attention dipped to her mouth. He shouldn't steal a kiss out here in the street, but?—

It seemed Jessie's thoughts were in concert with his. "Kiss me," she breathed, and Robert suddenly found himself drowning in the warm glow of her whisky-brown eyes.

Dear Lord, how could he resist? "Whatever my lady-wife desires," he whispered.

He meant the kiss to be soft and lingering, a gentle homage to everything Jessie meant to him, but it soon became apparent that his passionate wife had other ideas. When she grasped the back of his head and moved her mouth urgently against his, he lost control of all the pent-up emotion within him and returned her kiss with equal ardor. And the mad world behind them disappeared.

Robert pushed her against the brick wall of the close and devoured all she offered. His tongue and lips explored her mouth thoroughly, savoring her heady sweetness. Jessie's hands slid beneath his jacket and frantically clutched at the wet linen clinging to his chest and back; her hands were everywhere, as if she wanted to rip his shirt away. He, too, was impatient to touch Jessie's skin. The wet silk of her gown was suddenly a barrier he couldn't tolerate. His hunger for her, all of her, was growing steadily with each passing moment. He pushed his hand under the folds of the greatcoat, seeking her breast …

"Now, now, Lord Lochrose. Dinna make me arrest ye for engaging in inappropriate displays of affection and harassment of a lady in a public place."

Robert dragged his head up and looked over his shoulder. Captain MacBryde, atop a fine cavalry steed, was right behind them. Damn the man to hell.

Panic spiked. Robert prayed the soldier's keen eyes hadn't noticed the outline of the pistol butt beneath his jacket. He pulled Jessie closer to his body to hide the telling blood stains on her gown.

Despite the officer's outwardly stern expression though, Robert thought he detected a glint of amusement in the man's eyes. Clearing his throat, he said smoothly enough, "I'm just taking care of my wife, Captain. She was in the sedan chair with Lady Strathburn, you know."

Captain MacBryde raised an eyebrow. "I see." To his credit, the man did not baulk in the slightest at Robert's use of the word wife when he'd referred to Jessie. He glanced behind Robert to Jessie. "Do you know where Lady Strathburn is then, milady?"

The question was inevitable. Robert felt Jessie stiffen in his arms, but she held the captain's gaze steadily. "I'm afraid no', Captain. Ye see, I took a wee bump to the head and in all the confusion I'm no' sure what happened."

Robert smiled inwardly. He was nothing but impressed with Jessie's quick thinking and display of sangfroid .

MacBryde was frowning. "Are ye sure ye're all right?"

"I'm quite well, Captain," Jessie replied with apparent calmness. Her mouth lifted into a shy smile as she added, "Especially now my Lord Lochrose is here to look after me."

Perhaps still sensing something was amiss, the captain's gaze darted to Robert, before returning to Jessie. Given the incident this morning, and the peculiarity of Jessie accompanying the countess in a sedan chair meant for one, it was no wonder he was suspicious. Nevertheless, he merely smiled back and inclined his head. "Perhaps I could call on you later this afternoon at Strathburn House to take yer statement about the accident."

"That would be quite all right," said Jessie with an elegant tilt of her head. "We shall expect you."

MacBryde's brow suddenly creased with mock sternness. "And are ye sure this man isna bothering ye, Lady Lochrose? I can still have him arrested if he is, ye ken."

Her smile widened. "I can assure you, Captain, that I'm being verra well taken care of."

MacBryde grinned as he caught Robert's eye. "Well, as you were then, milord." He turned his horse away.

Robert gathered Jessie close again and cast her the lopsided smile meant only for her—the woman he loved more than anything, his wife. "Who am I to disobey the law?"

The End