Her Outlaw Page 9

  Maybe she’d forgotten the sheaths on purpose.

  “No!” That sort of behavior went way beyond Menacing to truly self-destructive. She’d wouldn’t do that. Would she?

  Maybe it didn’t matter. Gnawing on her lower lip, Emma did some quick calculations in her head. No. This was the wrong time of the month. Or, the right time, considering the circumstances. While accidents could always happen, she thought she was in the clear. She wasn’t the most fertile of women, anyway. She and Casey hadn’t made a baby, and they’d made love every night they were married up until the day he fell sick with pneumonia.

  “Don’t borrow trouble,” she said to her reflection. Besides, she was almost thirty, wasn’t she? Often women were done having children by then. Maybe she’d be that way. Maybe she was already too old.

  She ran her hand over her stomach as longing swept through her. Too old. With that depressing thought, Emma pinched some color back into her cheeks, then made quick work of finishing her hairstyle. A quick check of the clock showed her she’d slept most of the morning away. No wonder, since she’d managed only snatches of sleep during the night. Still, she was surprised that her sister hadn’t come looking for her yet.

  Maybe Kat had checked her bedroom and assumed she was already up and out of the house, as was her norm. That sounded like a good idea, in fact. If she could sneak outside without being seen, then she could turn around and make a grand entrance and talk about the long, lovely walk she’d taken on the estate.

  Happy with the plan, she slipped into her shoes, then reached for her necklace on the bedside table. Emma frowned. The necklace wasn’t there. That’s strange. She distinctly remembered when Dair took it off her and set it on the table.

  She checked the floor, then beneath the bed. Nothing. Where in the world could it have gone?

  Emma spent the next ten minutes giving the room a thorough search. She checked the bedding, the bureaus, and even the balcony. She went down on her hands and knees and examined the wooden floor, rugs and tiles. She even stirred through the ashes in the fireplace. Still nothing. Her necklace wasn’t here.

  Someone had taken it. Who? A sticky-fingered maid? Hard to believe that with all the treasures in this grand house a servant would risk their livelihood for the pendant she wore around her neck. Who else, then? Her host? Maybe. Jake Kimball had already stolen one McBride necklace, had he not?

  Maybe one of the children did it. They could have sneaked in and swiped it on a dare. Heaven knows the McBride Menaces had done that sort of thing all the time.

  Despite those possibilities and more running through Emma’s brain, another suspect came to mind. Dair. The interest he’d taken in the piece had not missed her notice. The engraving obviously intrigued him. Maybe he’d decided to do some research on it in one of Chatham Park’s libraries.

  Or maybe he’d stolen it like his good buddy Jake.

  No. Emma dismissed the idea as soon as it occurred. He wouldn’t have done that. To make love to a woman for hours, then steal from her? What a betrayal that would be! Dair had to have more honor than that.

  Still, he should have left her a note explaining that he borrowed it. He should have known she’d be worried. Men. Sometimes they simply didn’t think.

  Emma cautiously checked the hallway for signs of life, then seeing none, slipped from Dair’s bedroom. She checked the rooms she’d known him to frequent first—the library, the study, a couple of drawing rooms. She asked an upstairs maid, a cook’s assistant and a gardener trimming bushes outside the music room if they’d seen MacRae that morning. They all answered no.

  She joined two of Jake’s bride candidates doing embroidery in the morning room and managed to ferret out the information that while Jake had been in and out of the house much of the morning, Dair MacRae had made himself scarce. Emma sipped a cup of tea and pondered where to look next. She could find Kat and ask her, but she’d just as soon not have a private conversation with her sister right now. Kat would take one look at her and know how she’d spent the night, and Emma would just as soon avoid the conversation that would undoubtedly follow if at all possible.

  The stables. That’s where she should check next. The stablemaster would know if Dair had gone out for a ride. She could wait for him there. And, avoid Kat in the meantime.

  Emma made her excuses to the brides, then left the house by a side door. She found the stablemaster at his desk doing paperwork and muttering about the increasing price of feed. Emma pasted on her brightest smile and said, “Excuse me, Mr. Wolcott, but I’m looking for Mr. MacRae. Have you seen him, by chance?”

  “Chance had nothing to do with it,” the man grumbled. “I’m an early riser—have to be with my job—but I like to have my coffee before I get to work. Didn’t see why he had to be in such an all-fired hurry. It’s a lot of work to get a coach ready for a long journey like that.”

  Emma froze. “A long journey?”

  “Don’t know why he wouldn’t wait for the train. Mr. Kimball does have fine coaches and superior teams, but he’d have saved time going by train, and I could have had my coffee!”

  Emma opened her mouth and attempted to speak, but nothing came out. Her stomach took a nauseated roll. She cleared her throat and clarified. “Dair MacRae left here early this morning? Headed for where?”

  “Scotland. He could have caught a train in town at noon, but no. He had to head out right that minute. Loaded up a bunch of books and a big old basket of food, and asked for a driver willing to travel hard and fast. Took my new man, Charlie. Worries me a bit as the man’s only been here a few days. I haven’t got a measure of his mettle yet. I hope he’ll do right by Mr. MacRae.”

  Do right by Mr. MacRae? The idea made Emma want to giggle hysterically. Then because her knees turned to water, she grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself, and drew in a deep breath in an effort to calm her pounding heart.

  She remembered Dair looking at her necklace and saying, I swear I’ve seen something similar before.

  He took it. The certainty roared through her. That bastard. That no-good lying thieving rogue. Betrayal sat in her stomach like a bad piece of meat. She swallowed hard, then said, “I see. Thank you, Mr. Wolcott. I appreciate your help.”

  Emma exited the stables with a smile pasted on her face. Behind her upturned lips, her teeth remained clenched. She wanted to scream and shout. She wanted to kick something. Break something. Dair MacRae’s head, perhaps. Right after she cut off his dingus.

  She felt a sick, slow churning in her gut. He’d used her. She’d given him her body and the horrible, awful, wicked, malicious, mean villain used her. The betrayal was beyond anything she’d ever felt in her life. She’d never seen it coming. She, whose judgement of character had never failed her before.

  Well, it sure failed you this time. He’d fooled her. Pulled the wool over her eyes. Bluffed her. Sold her a possum hide for rabbit fur. How could she have been so stupid? So naive? How could she have let him touch her? Hold her? Take possession of her body, her soul? My God, what he’d done to her last night. What she’d let him do!

  “I’ll kill him,” she swore, fury pounding through her veins. “I swear I’ll have his guts for garters.”

  Emma veered off to the maze where she walked without error or hesitation to the Greek temple where her downfall had begun. She gathered up a handful of rocks from the walkway before taking a seat on a stone bench. Eyeing the chaise lounge, she conjured up his image in her mind and threw a pebble hard. “You bastard.” She threw another rock. “I hope your coach breaks an axle.” And another. “I hope you get stranded in the middle of nowhere.” She threw two pebbles at once. “I hope a robber—”

  Emma broke off abruptly. A robber. She let the remaining pebbles fall to the ground. “A robber.”

  Rising, she began to pace the temple floor. It was a foolish idea. Really. She wasn’t twelve anymore. But she couldn’t actually murder him, and this would serve him right, wouldn’t it?

  Hmm. She couldn�
�t be certain of his route. She might never catch up with him. Never find him.

  However, this might be a good project for Kat. It might be just what she needed to do away with the doldrums for good. Look at how much she’d enjoyed impersonating Wilhemina Peters. She’d get a real kick out of this. During the McBride Menace days, her sister loved this sort of mischief.

  “Why not?” Emma murmured. “What can it hurt to try?”

  Nothing. Not a darn thing. She gave a pebble she’d dropped a swift kick. As it bounced off the chaise, she left the temple and retraced her steps out of the maze. With a goal now in mind, she knew the urge to hurry, so she picked up her skirts and rushed toward the house. She’d try Kat’s room first.

  Upstairs, she gave a cursory knock, then walked inside saying, “Kat? I think it’s time the McBride Menaces rode again.”

  But the room was empty, the only sign of her sister a half-written letter lying atop the desk. Thinking it might offer a clue to her sister’s whereabouts, Emma snooped.

  Dear Mari,

  I held a baby yesterday. A beautiful little boy.

  Reminded me a lot of your little Drew. Holding him broke my heart.

  I owe you an apology, Mari. I’ve been a terrible aunt to Drew and Madeline. I’m weak and sorry for it.

  Kat went on to talk about Jake Kimball’s nieces and her reaction to them. The last lines she wrote struck a chord in Emma’s heart.

  I’m trying very hard to get past losing Susie. I think had I a little more time, I might overcome the pain. However, Emma and I will be leaving Chatham Park today. Perhaps by the time I reach Texas I’ll

  There, the letter ended. “Oh, Kat.”

  Emma returned the page to the desktop and drummed her fingers on the surface. If what her sister had written was true, then Kat couldn’t leave. For her sake, for Mari’s sake, for Mari’s children’s sake, Kat needed to put this fear she’d developed after Susie’s death behind her. If being around Jake Kimball’s dependents a little longer would do the trick, then that’s what Kat needed to do. Emma would give up on her idea.

  Unless…I went alone. Emma’s pulse jumped. She drew a deep breath, stepped away from the desk, and paced the room, her thoughts spinning. Alone. Hmm. Could she? Dare she? After last night, she figured she could dare just about anything.

  Actually, going alone would be better. Kat wasn’t as good a rider as Emma. She’d slow her down. Not to mention lecture her ears off. Ever since Rory Callahan did Kat wrong, she considered herself an expert on scoundrels. Because she’d tried to warn Emma about Dair, the I-warned-yous and I-told-you-sos would last all the way to Scotland. Besides, Emma didn’t really want her family to know about her lapse in judgement—her night with a thief. That would only compound her feeling of stupidity.

  What a fool I was. Thinking about it…recalling the boldness of her actions…her reaction to him. Her response to him. Emma closed her eyes. Humiliation flowed over her in waves. Fool! Fool! Fool! So she finally had an orgasm. Was it worth it? Was it worth losing her most prized possession? Not to mention her pride. And her self-respect.

  How he must be laughing at her. The poor widow, so desperate for a man that she’d let a thief into her bed. Into her heart.

  “No!” Emma’s spine snapped straight. Not her heart. Never that. She’d by God make sure the bastard knew it, too. She’d wrestle both her necklace and her self-respect back from the sorry scalawag, and her family—Kat—need never know.

  Yes, going alone was looking better all the time.

  I’ll do it. Emma took a fresh sheet of stationery from the writing desk drawer and penned a note for her sister. Placing it in an envelope, she wrote Kat’s name on the front and propped it atop the desk where her sister would see it. Then, hurrying to her own suite of rooms, she quickly packed a bag.

  Emma made one more stop before leaving the house. She spent a good ten minutes in the armament room, choosing her weapons. Last night Dair MacRae had showed her his talent with a sword.

  Soon he’d see what a McBride Menace could do with a gun and a Bowie knife. She’d never let him know that he’d broken her heart.

  CHURCH BELLS CHIMED THREE in the afternoon throughout Edinburgh as Hamish Campbell stood on the front steps of his town house and accepted delivery of the telegram. He tipped the messenger generously, then opened the envelope, read the contents, and smiled.

  Well, well, well. Wasn’t this a surprise? He’d best get ready to welcome the boy home.

  TEN HOURS AFTER DEPARTING Chatham Park, Emma stood in the shadows of a stand of trees keeping watch on the entrance to the Sleeping Dog Inn. An apt name, she decided, since this was where Jake Kimball’s stablemaster claimed Dair would spend the night.

  After confirming his route to Edinburgh, she’d taken the train north to get ahead of him. The ride passed in a blur, partly because her mind had been occupied with plans and problems and regrets, but also because she had difficulty seeing through the excess of tears in her eyes.

  Emma never actually cried. She was too proud to do that. No, the wetness in her eyes was due to wind rushing through the open windows of the rail car, or perhaps from an allergic reaction to a plant in bloom. Be damned if she’d cry over the likes of Dair MacRae.

  She drew a deep, calming breath and noted the scent of rain upon the air. Great. That’s just what she needed to top off a simply horrid day.

  She dared not leave her watch post. Though Jake Kimball’s employee had been certain of the coachman’s plans, Emma wanted visual confirmation before taking the next step in the scheme as it was rather labor intensive.

  A raindrop smacked against her cheek and she stifled a groan, then moved beneath a leafier branch of the oak tree just as a coach pulled up into the yard. Awareness of any discomfort disappeared as her pulse sped up. Was it…? No. An elderly gentleman descended from the coach and tottered into the inn just as the skies opened up.

  Lovely. Just lovely.

  As rain seeped into her clothing, she reminded herself that she’d endured worse conditions during some of her McBride Menace escapades. A little rain wouldn’t hurt her. She wasn’t sugar. She wouldn’t melt. After all, true adventure often required a bit of discomfort, did it not? And she wanted adventure. Didn’t she? It was an itch in her blood. A need deep in her bones. Wasn’t it?

  Or had this morning’s revelations in the wake of last night’s…activity…cured her of the desire?

  “No,” she murmured. Her lust for life had been reborn and be hanged if she’d let Dair MacRae take that away from her.

  In fact, she intended to have a good time dealing with the necklace thief. She’d indulge the remnants of her Menace-hood while achieving an adult’s victory. An adult’s revenge.

  By God, she’d make the bastard pay.

  Her spirits restored, Emma smiled as the rain continued to fall. When a second coach pulled up in front of the inn, she sensed that her prey had finally arrived. The door swung open and Dair MacRae stepped down…into a puddle of mud.

  Emma allowed herself a little chuckle.

  For a brief moment she was tempted to go after him here and now. She envisioned herself storming forward, treating him to a roundhouse punch, knocking him flat on his behind in the muddy yard. But that wouldn’t have the drama she’d been looking for, the humiliation factor she craved, so she resisted, watched him enter the inn, and planned.

  “Until tomorrow, thief.”

  Secure in the knowledge that Kimball’s stablemaster had indeed known Dair’s route, Emma retreated to the tidy cottage near the train depot and the room she’d rented earlier in the day. There she bathed, dressed in her nightgown, and crawled into a warm, dry, comfortable bed. She slept, and dreamed of retribution.

  EMMA AWOKE BEFORE DAWN. As she pulled on her uniform for the day—a young man’s shirt, trousers and boots—excitement sang in Emma’s veins. It was really too bad that her sisters weren’t here with her. She so much would have enjoyed sharing the adventure with them.

 
; Outside, she retrieved her rented horse and headed out. Dawn broke in a beautiful palate of mauve, purple and pink, and Emma laughed aloud with sheer joy, filled with the sense of her own power. She, Emma McBrideTate, was back. She’d teach that thieving scalawag to mess with a McBride Menace. Sometime within the next hour, she figured.

  Taking up position on a hill some eight miles from town at the spot she’d prepared the previous day, she watched the countryside below. When she spied his coach climbing the winding road, she’d rolled the hired wagon into the middle of the road and destroyed its axle.

  Dair’s coach had stopped exactly where she’d intended, and as she drew her weapon, again, Emma grinned.

  DAIR LAY SPRAWLED ACROSS THE coach’s leather seats lost in a sea of pain. A herd of horses thundered across his brain, their steel shoes pounding his tender head mercilessly. He seriously considered instructing the driver to turn the coach around and return to the inn they’d left a short time ago.

  He’d awakened with a headache this morning, but that was nothing new. It had eased after breakfast, and he’d felt fine as he boarded the coach and resumed his reading of the research books he’d brought from Chatham Park. Then, while reading about the history of the Kandabhar Ruby, pain struck with a speed and intensity beyond anything he’d previously experienced.

  Was this it, then? Had his time run out? At the moment, he’d almost welcome death. How pitiful was that? He’d die a weakling curled up like an infant in a borrowed coach. He never thought he’d live to an old age, but he’d expected to meet his end in an honorably violent manner. Shot by a jealous husband or brought down by a lawman’s gun. Not killed by a damnable disease devouring him from within.

  Dair heard the gunshot, and at first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him by conjuring up the violent end he’d anticipated. But when another shot sounded and the coach slowed, then stopped, he realized they were in reality under attack.

  Despite the agony in his head, Dair smiled. Here was his chance, his opportunity to meet death on his own terms rather than wait for it to take him.