Francesca’s blood turned to ice. No. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
“Show yerself,” Declan commanded, his voice carrying across the clearing with absolute authority. “Show me the child is unharmed, and we’ll discuss yer ransom.”
“Will we?” A hand reached up, pushing back the hood. Golden hair tumbled free, catching the last rays of sunlight. Green eyes, the same shade as Francesca’s own, surveyed them with cold amusement. “I think we’ll discuss it on my terms, Laird MacGhee.”
“Violet.” The name escaped Francesca as a whisper, disbelief and horror warring in her chest. “But you’re dead. You died. The carriage accident.”
“Was remarkably easy to stage as it turns out.” Violet’s smile was sharp as broken glass. “Amazing what a substantial bribe can accomplish. The driver was quite willing to claim we were both in the carriage when it overturned.”
“You faked your own death?” Francesca couldn’t process it, couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Her sister—her twin—alive after a year of mourning. “But why? Why would you do that?”
“Because I needed to disappear, obviously.” Violet’s hand tightened on Eloise’s shoulder, making the child whimper. “Leonard was becoming suspicious about his business accounts. Questions were being asked. It seemed simpler to eliminate both problems at once.”
“You killed your husband.” It wasn’t a question.
“I arranged for his carriage to have an unfortunate accident. The fact that it also allowed me to disappear was simply convenient planning.” Violet’s expression showed no remorse, no guilt. “Though I must thank you, sister dear. Taking Eloise in saved me the trouble of ensuring she ended up somewhere I could reach her.”
“She’s your daughter!” The words burst from Francesca, anguished and furious. “How could you abandon her? How could you do this to your own child?”
“Easily.” Violet’s voice was ice. “She was always more burden than blessing. A reminder of my mistake in marrying Leonard in the first place. I thought having an heir would secure my position, but all she did was trap me further.”
Eloise made a small, broken sound. Even blindfolded, even young as she was, she understood enough to know her own mother was calling her a burden.
“Enough.” Declan’s voice cut through the clearing like a blade. “Ye want money? Name yer price and release the child.”
“Five hundred gold coins.” Violet’s smile widened at their sharp inhalations. “Enough to set myself up comfortably on the continent. Far from England and prying questions about dead husbands.”
“That’s a fortune,” Fraser said from where he’d moved to flank them. “And ye think we’ll just hand it over?”
“I think you will if you want the brat back unharmed.” Violet’s free hand moved to her cloak, emerging with a dirk that caught the fading light. She pressed the blade to Eloise’s throat, making the child freeze in terror. “Though I confess, I’m not entirely sure why you’d bother. She’s not even your blood, is she, Laird MacGhee? And besides, I easily seduced a guard to have access to the castle and Eloise. Some people agree with my sense of reasoning. “
“Remove that blade from her throat.” Declan’s voice had gone deadly quiet, more terrifying than any shout. “Now.”
“Or what? You’ll charge me with your men?” Violet’s laugh was brittle. “I saw them hiding in the rocks. Did you think me blind? The moment anyone moves, this blade cuts deep. Is that what you want? The child’s blood on your hands?”
Francesca’s mind raced, desperate for some way to fix this. Violet had always been clever, calculating. She’d planned this too well, positioned herself too perfectly. Any move they made would end with Eloise hurt or worse.
Unless.
“Let me go to her.” The words came out steadier than Francesca felt. “Take me as collateral while we arrange the ransom. Just let Eloise go.”
“Francesca, nay.” Declan’s hand tightened on her arm.
“Please.” She turned to face him, letting him see the desperation in her eyes. “She’s terrified. Let me at least comfort her while we negotiate.”
Violet’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “How touching. The devoted mother willing to sacrifice herself. Though we both know you’re not really her mother, are you, Francesca? You’re just playing at it.”
“I’m more her mother than you ever were.” Francesca dismounted before Declan could stop her, taking slow steps toward her sister. “You abandoned her. Left her to believe she was orphaned. How could you do that to your own child?”
“Because she was never mine in any way that mattered.” Violet’s voice held no warmth, no recognition of the bond that should exist between mother and daughter. “She was a means to an end that ceased being useful when Leonard became more liability than asset.”
“So, you killed him and left her alone.” Francesca moved closer, hands spread to show she was unarmed. “Your own daughter.”
“She was never alone. She had you.” Violet’s smile turned cruel. “Dear sweet Francesca, who always wanted to be a mother. I gave you what you wanted most, didn’t I? A child to coddle and fuss over.”
“You gave me the most precious gift in the world.” Francesca’s voice dropped to something soft and fierce. “You gave me Eloise. And I will die before I let you hurt her.”
“How noble.” Violet’s dirk pressed harder against Eloise’s throat, making the child gasp. “But nobility doesn’t pay passage to France, does it?”
