“Blonde. Green eyes. Looked like quality, but...” The man hesitated.
“But what?”
“But there was something off about her. Cold. Like she didn’t care about nothing but the money.”
Declan exchanged a look with Fraser. Blonde. Green eyes. Could it be someone from Francesca’s family? But why would they take Eloise?
“Where were ye supposed to meet her next?”
“The old kirk at sunset. I was to confirm the Laird received the note and that he’d be bringing the ransom alone.”
“And then?”
“Then she’d tell me where to find the girl for the exchange.” The man’s eyes darted between the armed Highlanders surrounding him. “That’s all I know; I swear it! I’m just a messenger!”
“A messenger who helped kidnap a child.” Declan’s voice could have frozen fire. “That makes ye guilty of the same crime.”
“Please, I need the money! My family needs me.”
“Should have thought of that before ye agreed to help steal mine.” Declan grabbed him by the throat, lifting him until his toes barely touched ground. “Ye’re going to take us to this woman. And if one hair on that child’s head has been harmed, I’ll make sure ye die very, very slowly.”
He dropped the man, who crumpled to the ground, gasping. “Tie him up. We’re takin’ him back to the castle.”
“Shouldnae we handle it ourselves?”
“Nay. I want Francesca to hear this. She needs to ken what we’re dealin’ with.” And part of him—the part that was beginning to suspect the impossible—needed to see her face when this man described the woman who’d hired him.
They rode back to Castle MacGhee with their prisoner bound and secured. Declan’s mind churned with possibilities, each more disturbing than the last. An English woman with blonde hair and green eyes. Someone who knew enough about the castle to plan this kidnapping. Someone who wanted ransom money badly enough to take a child.
They’d barely entered the courtyard when Francesca came running out, her face pale with desperate hope.
“Did you find her? Is she ok?”
“We found a scout. The man who left the ransom note.” Declan dismounted, his expression grim. “He has information. But Francesca, ye need to prepare yerself.”
“Me Laird!” Another rider came thundering through the gates, nearly running over servants in his haste. “Another note! We found it pinned to the old kirk’s door!”
Declan snatched the parchment, his blood running cold as he read. Wordlessly, he handed it to Francesca.
Since you clearly can’t follow simple instructions, here’s proof we have the girl. Bring the ransom tonight at sunset. Come alone, or the next thing you receive will be her finger.
Tied to the note was a length of blue ribbon, the same ribbon Eloise had worn in her hair yesterday. Francesca’s hands shook as she touched it, her face draining of what little color it had held.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
Her knees buckled. Declan caught her before she hit the ground, supporting her weight as she clutched the ribbon to her chest.
“She’s alive,” he said firmly, forcing her to focus on his face. “Do ye hear me? She’s alive. They wouldnae send proof if they’d already harmed her.”
“But they have her. They have my baby.”
He gave her a small shake, just enough to cut through the panic. “I need ye strong right now, Francesca. Eloise needs ye strong.”
She sucked in a shuddering breath then another, forcing herself to straighten. “I’m going with you tonight.”
“Nay.”
“Don’t you dare tell me no!” Fire replaced fear in her eyes. “I’m going, Declan. Eloise is out there.”
