Reuben would have agreed with her. He would have stomped away in righteous fury along with her. Except her look included him. And why wouldn’t it when he stood there with his friend’s blood all over his fist?
Good God, what had he done?
Chapter Eleven
They’d found her.
That knowledge shuddered through Iseabail’s body. It made her hands shake and her mind numb. She’d known it might happen. Indeed, a part of her had always known that her uncle wouldn’t give her up so easily. But the more time she’d spent at parties in London, the less she’d felt the threat of him.
Until today.
All the terror and the fear she’d buried down had come roaring back. She’d stood there in her pretty gown in the middle of Hyde Park while five of her own clansmen tried to grab her.
They’d found her.
“Climb into the cab.”
Iseabail blinked. She’d been walking quickly somewhere. Away. She’d been walking away. The only reason she hadn’t been running was because her legs were unsteady, her hands shaking, and her chest tight with fear.
They’d found her.
“We’re going for a ride. There’s no reason to walk right now.”
She blinked as she looked at the carriage. Sadie was in front of her, already inside the conveyance with her hand outstretched. She looked furious with her mouth set tight and her brows drawn down.
Iseabail knew better than that. She hid her emotions; she kept her expression placid. Her mother had taught her that. Hide, hide, hide. Until you’re ready to strike.
“Climb inside,” a man said. “You can think of what to do there.”
The voice of reason, so rarely coming from a man. She turned to look at him, knowing what she would see. Mr. Bates. Rugged jaw, now clenched. Bright eyes, now narrowed and steady. He held out his hand to her to help her climb into the carriage. Normally she’d shy away from any man right now, but he had helped her. He had fought for her.
She gripped his hand as if it were the only safe point in the world. And she used him to climb inside the carriage.
She wasn’t thinking as she sat down. Any other time when she had witnessed something horrible, she would go to a corner of her bedroom and sit alone. She had things that comforted her there. A plant in a pot—a different one every year. A book of whimsical pictures her mother had gifted her. And hard stone on two sides. She would press her back to it, look at the plant and the pictures, and wait until she felt better.
She sat across from Sadie and pressed her back into the corner. She watched as Mr. Bates climbed into the hackney and closed the door. He sat next to her, his body too large for the small space. But rather than shrink from him, she pressed her knee against him and felt the hard strength of him.
He was like a stone wall beside her, and she appreciated his presence.
Meanwhile, Sadie pulled off her gloves where were caked with dried blood. “I would have helped him,” she said. “I tried, but he—”
“He swung at you,” Mr. Bates said.
“He’s not the first frightened man who strikes out with his fists.” She took a shuddering breath. “He may die. Even if it gets bandaged right, an infection will—”
“His wife died on the floor of their cottage, both her legs shattered from his fists. He left her there and went to bed.” Their daughter had snuck out to find Iseabail. By the time they’d returned to the cottage, it was too late. The woman was dead and all Iseabail could do was find the girl work in the castle and teach her how to sleep with a dirk.
“Was he drunk?” Mr. Bates asked.
“Does it matter?”
He had no answer to that, and she had no desire to explain. And yet, sitting there pressed into the corner of the carriage, she found words tumbling out.
“Ours is a wealthy clan. The market brings in a great deal of money and most of it goes into whisky. Every night. I stop the women as much as I can, but everyone has some.”
Sadie leaned forward. “There’s nothing wrong with drink. It’s the excess that makes it ugly.”
Iseabail looked up. How did she make her understand that the Spalding clan was not like the Aberbeag? Sadie’s home was led by Connall, and a better laird she’d never met. But her uncle was different.
