Page 87 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
“Lass, that was sterling,” Aden said, taking her hand and shaking it. “If Coll ever gives ye trouble, ye just give that speech. I reckon that’ll settle him down.”
“‘Sterling?’” Miranda repeated, grinning.
“Aye. I’ve been learning to speak Sassenach, ye ken.”
“Well, stop it, for Saint Andrew’s sake,” Coll muttered, taking Temperance’s arm and pulling her close against him. “We know who it is, lass. Now we only need to find her.”
“And then what?”
“And then I reckon we’ll see just how much power Lady Aldriss can wield with a judge or two. Or I’ll put Caroline Rilence in a crate myself and ship her off to America.” He lowered his head. “And that’s me being as civilized as I can manage.”
Strictly legal or not, it sounded definitive enough to settle her a bit. The logical part of her could see why it might have happened—Caroline wanted the money for herself and Robert, and so when she’d seen the person meant to inherit it, she’d taken steps to keep Temperance from claiming it. Perhaps it was because Temperance had walked away from the money without a second thought that the whole idea seemed preposterous—certainly not worth anyone’s life.
As she stepped into the coach behind Lady Aldriss, she glanced over her shoulder to see Coll mount Nuckelavee, his monster of a black horse. If they couldn’t find Caroline, there remained one way to stop her. Walking up to knock on the front door of Hartwood House was the very last thing she wanted to do, of course. But this wasn’t justabout her any longer. The MacTaggerts had taken her in, and one of them loved her. She would not allow them to be put in danger because of her.
MacTaggerts, she’d begun to realize, did not stand alone.
Chapter Nineteen
“Leave all the rest to me.”
LADY MACBETH,MACBETHACT I, SCENE V
Caroline Rilence wasn’t home. According to the butler and her stiff-necked parents, the lass had suddenly taken ill and left for the family’s seat in Leeds, though why they would allow an ill woman to take such a long coach trip with but a maid for company, they couldn’t say.
It seemed far more likely that she’d made up some tale about troublesome Highlanders and gone to stay with a friend. The trouble was, Coll realized, that none of them knew enough about her to be certain who her damned friends were.
“I need more names,” he said, resisting the urge to pound on the breakfast table. He’d already broken two pencils, and that had done nothing but cause Eloise to chastise him for being an “angry mountain,” as she’d put it.
“I’m sorry, Coll,” Miranda said, twiddling her teacup in her hands. “Caroline is five years ahead of me, and even more than that for Amy and Eloise. I simply don’t know her well enough.”
“She would have been considered on the shelf, to be unmarried at twenty-seven or twenty-eight,” Amy put in. “More likely to attend recitals and book readings than soirees.”
“She’s had less than a day to vanish,” Coll insisted.“Nae a man or woman can do so that quickly and nae leave some sign behind them for a hunter to track.”
“I did it that quickly,” Temperance countered, her own cup of tea untouched. “It all depends on what she’s willing to leave behind.”
“She tried to kill ye for money. She’s nae trying to leave anything behind. She’s only hiding until we stop looking for her.”
In the meantime, the woman could be more desperate than before. The easiest solution would have been to inform Lord and Lady Bayton that their daughter was alive and well, but Temperance didn’t want to go anywhere near them—and he couldn’t blame her for that.
“Now that you’re suspicious of her, perhaps she’ll realize it’s too risky to attempt anything else.” Eloise reached across the table to put her hand over Temperance’s. “I wouldn’t want us after me.”
“The problem is, we dunnae ken where she’s gotten to. Temperance, I dunnae want ye going out this door until we find her.”
Immediately, she lifted her head, pinning him with her blue gaze. “I have a performance tonight, and every night for the next four weeks.”
“But ye—”
“I amnotmissing that play,” she said, her voice clipped. “Everyone at the Saint Genesius is relying on me. I don’t even have an understudy.”
Swearing, he slammed his fist against the tabletop. “I dunnae know how to protect ye, then!” he snapped.
“Just be there. I doubt she would dare make an attempt with all those eyes watching, anyway. Thus far, she—or whoever she’s hired—has struck while I was more or less alone.”
He didn’t know if she was trying to convince him or herself, but he did understand it. Wherever she went, shewould be in danger. Even at home, they couldn’t guarantee someone wouldn’t attempt to burn down Oswell House. Onstage, she would have hundreds of witnesses, at least, and relatively few entrances and exits to watch.
Logically, it was safer than anywhere but in his arms. That didn’t mean he liked it. At all. As his father had said, though, the trouble with loving a strong, opinionated woman was that she had strong opinions, and wasn’t timid about expressing them. “Fine. Ye perform. I’ll be backstage, watching every bloody minute.”
