Maxton was a fortune hunter, as well, or half one. She remained uncertain whether his primary goal in forcing her into a marriage was to gain her money, or to protect his family from her untrustworthy Sassenach ways. After they’d kidnapped her and dragged her into this, or course. But given his ham-fisted assertion that he was saving her reputation and then the way he’d chained her to the bed and locked her in a room while yelling at her to behave, she didn’t think he’d intended that kiss. And she knew for blasted certain that she should have been as offended by it as she was at the idea of being forced into a marriage.
For heaven’s sake, she should be fearing the loss of her virtue, the ruin of her reputation, and the torching of her future prospects for a proper beau and a proper marriage in London. Mostly, though, she wished he’d brought her something more engaging to read thanCulpepper’s Medicinal Herbs.
And in her heart, she knew why she was more aggravated than fearful. Yes, she could apply everything she’d learned in boarding school and finishing school, use all the advice from the ever-optimistic Mrs. Giswell, but she knew. Years of patience and generous gifts to strategically placed persons might earn her a few dinner or soiree invitations, the least thank-yous anyone could manage without being considered impolite, but if she wanted to go to the theater she would have to rent her own box. If she wanted to attend a grand ball she would have to hold it, and then expect that no one else would attend. If she wanted to marry within her own, new station, it would have to be to a man who needed her money. But damn it all, he would ask her and she would accept. Not force her into something and announce that it was for her own good.
Marjorie sighed, tugging on the ridiculous chain again. It must have been forged to restrain a draft horse, or perhaps an elephant. Graeme Maxton now held two keys to her imprisonment. And now that he’d made this a challenge, well, she’d make certain her next attempt at escape went better—or at least caused him more trouble.
A trio of knocks sounded low on the door, startling her. Two more followed. Then, before she could say a word, another note slipped though the narrow opening and floated for several inches along the floor.Blast it.
“Connell, I can’t reach the door,” she said, as loudly as she dared.
“But ye said ye would have a note fer me.”
“I do. But your brother chained me up, and I can’t get to it. Or to the door.”
“Is that because ye spread jam on the window? That was a mad thing to do.”
She frowned at the door. “Yes, I suppose it was. I had to try something, though.”
“Ye shouldnae make Graeme mad at ye. He walloped me across the arse once when I brought home a pine marten I’d caught. I hid it in the stable, but it got oot and killed nine of our chickens. That’s nearly half of ’em. And it put the other ones off laying, so we had nae an egg fer nearly a fortnight.”
“How long has Graeme been looking after you?” she asked, unable to help being curious. About him, about this place, his family, and what in the world had led them all to the point that kidnapping her seemed their best course of action.
“Fer eight years,” the boy answered promptly. “Since I was a two-day-old leaking duckling of a bairn. And I smelled bad, too.” Connell sighed audibly. “Are ye going to marry Graeme? He says ye are. Do ye like cats?”
She certainly didn’t like Lady Sarah’s fat, spoiled cats who had always eaten better than she had. “I would have to meet the cats to know if I liked them, and if they liked me. And no, I’m not marrying your brother.”
“Well, that willnae make him happy, either. And how are ye to answer my letters if ye cannae reach the door?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps you could have a word with your brother and suggest to him that I don’t need to be chained to the bed.”
“I’ll give it a try,” he returned, sounding reluctant. “Graeme’s stubborn, though. He made the lads go help at the mill to punish them for kidnapping ye, and I heard him say we all have to go clean oot the damned irrigation ditches tomorrow, before the water freezes.”
All of them? Did that mean Graeme, as well? If so, that could be her chance to run. First, though, she needed to get free of the chain. “Anything you can do would be appreciated. This shackle is rubbing my ankle.”
“I’ll let ye know what happens; listen fer my knock after dinner.”
“Thank you, Connell.”
After his footsteps padded away, Marjorie leaned over to turn up the oil lamp on the nightstand. She could only guess the time, but she knew this late in the year sunset came early to the Highlands. Four o’clock? Half-four? Several hours before the brute brought dinner, anyway—unless he’d decided she should go hungry tonght. Considering her left shoulder smelled of strawberry jam and her stomach already growled because of it,thatwouldn’t be a particularly pleasant prospect.
Instead of dwelling on that, she tallied up what she knew about this place and her captors. Four brothers—Graeme, Brendan, Dùghlas, and Connell Maxton. A butler named Cowen, a footman called Ross, and a female cook who didn’t appear to be anywhere near her size.
They owned a wagon, had somewhere over a dozen chickens—or they had, before the pine marten got to them. A mill lay somewhere close by, and it was a punishment to send the boys there to work. From the view she’d had out the window, a wild, swift river ran across the property just down the hill and past what looked like the main road. The house had a stable with at least two riding horses, and the hay came in a wagon from somewhere to the east. Could that be where the mill lay?
The two horses could be useful. Given that the residents of the house were all male, neither of them had likely been broken to the sidesaddle, and she’d never spent much time on horseback anyway, but if it meant escaping she would ride astride—or even bareback—if she had to. At that point she would need a better idea of where she’d be most likely to find help. The miller would be loyal to the Maxtons, so she could rule out east. That still left three other directions and a great deal of very cold, very rugged territory.
She did have one thing in her favor; given Graeme’s reaction to her writing “help” on the window, she would be willing to wager that his neighbors didn’t know about her. Her brother and his men were likely searching for her by now, alerted by Mrs. Giswell, so the more people whose attention she could attract, the better. Gabriel could even offer a reward for her safe return, which a few months ago would have been impossible.
“Leave it there, Ross. I’ll take it in.”
Marjorie started. Good heavens, how long had she spent plotting? When she glanced over her shoulder at the window, the sky beyond the closed curtains was dark. And then she caught sight of the note in front of the door.
Oh, no!Connell’s new missive. Stifling an unladylike curse, she lurched to her feet and limped forward—only to be brought up short by the chain. Swiftly she sank to her knees and stretched out her right hand.Damnation.
Metal slid against metal as he pushed the key into the lock. “Don’t you dare come in here without knocking first!” she ordered, and sank down onto her stomach.Almost…
The door swung open. Booted feet approached, stopping directly in front of her. “What do ye think ye’re doing?” he asked in a low voice touched with amusement.
