She hadn't eaten since the evening before, so it sounded good to her as well. She pulled the china teapot that has been her mother's from a cabinet and measured in the tea leaves. After adding boiling water, she asked, "How did you find your way up here?"
"Sally McKay's map had the landmarks sketched in. She was very worried about you." He pulled off his greatcoat and hung it on a hook by the door, then sank wearily into a kitchen chair. "I'm impressed that you could ride Sahib. He's a grand horse, but not what is usually considered a lady's mount."
"I'm not what is usually consider a lady." She bit her lip. "I should apologize for stealing your horse, but I can't. He was the best mount available and I knew I'd need a really good horse to get up here in a blizzard. I had to have a serous discussion with him before he agreed to let me ride him."
The captain nodded knowingly. "In other words, he threw you."
She had to smile. "Yes, but he was very polite about it. I landed in a pile of hay. So I explained to him how much I needed his services. After that, he allowed me to mount and we headed off into the storm."
"Sahib is a very intelligent horse, and he can't resist helping a damsel in distress."
"You and your horse have come to resemble each other," she said with a hint of amusement. "What did you ride to get up here?"
"A sturdy gelding called Benjie. I bought him from Mr. McKay since I wasn't sure if I'd be returning to the inn."
Deciding that the tea had steeped enough, Caitlin poured it into two sturdy mugs and stirred spoonfuls of sugar into each. She set them on the table. "Would you like a bowl of soup? It's very simple but it's hot, and there are ship's biscuits in the larder."
"Better and better!" he said. "What can I do to help?"
"There are bowls and cutlery in that cabinet," she replied. "You can clean up after we finish." She watched to see if he'd look appalled to be asked to act as a scullion, but he only swallowed a large, near scalding mouthful of tea before saying, "Only fair."
She was really beginning to like this man. She ladled soup into two large bowls. It did smell lovely. She was glad she'd added the handful of dried herbs when she was making it.
After setting the bowls on the table, she returned to the larder for one of the metal boxes of ship's biscuit. The thin hard slices were just flour and water and a bit of salt and they'd been baked four times to prolong their storage life. They didn't have a lot of flavor, but they lasted indefinitely.
She handed several pieces of the biscuit to the captain, then sat down, feeling ravenous. The biscuit softened nicely when dipped into the soup. She ate two bowlfuls and the captain had three.
As he finished his third bowl, he said, "I'm not sure if the soup is outstanding or if I was just famished, but this was a very fine meal on a very cold night."
She nodded agreement. It was full dark by now. Gusts of sharp wind were still rattling the house, but Caitlin was home and relaxed and safe for now.
The captain poured more tea for them, then leaned back in his chair. "Now that hunger has been satisfied, will you tell me the real story of what's been going on?"
She froze, her mug of tea halfway to her lips. "What do you think has been going on?" she asked warily.
"You may have criminal tendencies, but you're obviously not mad," he said, his gray gaze holding hers. "My guess is that the Dawsons were abducting you for some reason, most likely one involving money since it's doubtful anything else would cause them to go to such effort."
She took a long swallow of tea to steady her nerves, then set the mug down, still warming her hands on it. "You're very astute, Captain Cameron. How did you come to that conclusion?"
"Several things," he said slowly. "The determination of the Dawsons to keep you from talking to anyone. The harshness of their behavior when they seem to have no compassion or sympathy for your situation. How did that benefit them?"
With a sigh, Caitlin waved her hand in a gesture that encompassed the house and the estate. "My parents died when I was young so I was raised by my father's older brother, James Wallace, the Laird of Braewood. He was a grand old man. Since he had no children, he raised me as his own." A smile flitted across her lips. "As if I was his son, actually. He taught me how to run the estate and made me his heir. His last wish was for me to find a husband and have a hatful of bairns."
"How did he die?" the captain asked quietly.
She swallowed hard. "Of a swift, vicious cancer. His nearest other relations were the Dawsons, second cousins once removed, I think. They came to Braewood to help, and they actually were rather useful during his illness. Then Uncle James died." Her voice broke before she continued. "Right after the funeral, I became horribly ill, out of my head. The neighbors were all very concerned. My uncle was…much loved and they liked me as well."
"I suspect this is where things went badly wrong," the captain said in a soft voice.
She nodded, so grief stricken and furious that she could barely talk. "The Dawsons live in Newcastle and they volunteered to take me to a physician there. They said he was brilliant and might be able to heal me." She laughed bitterly. "Their physician was certainly an expert in using drugs."
The captain's eyes turned to pure steel. "So they drugged and imprisoned you and tried to force you to sign the estate over to them."
Caitlin stared at him. "Captain, can you read minds?"
His gaze softened. "No, but having met the Dawsons, I realized that they were snakes in human clothing. They thought they could break you. They were wrong."
"Right again, Captain. But how did you know that much about me when I really was halfway to madness?"
