Page 79
“No, no. You lie!” She shook her head vehemently, causing several pins to come loose. Her graying hair hanging haphazardly around her head and shoulders gave her an even more demented appearance. “He couldn’t have. It’s not possible. I’ve planned for so long…” Head slanted, she peered at him bewildered, her eyes glazed with madness. She muttered to herself, “No one else would have me after…My father paid Roger a fortune to marry me. The settlement was enormous.”
“Lucinda, I cannot change what’s been done.” Ian impatiently shoved a hand through his hair. Every second she delayed him was time his beloved wife believed her lies.
Wringing her hands, Lucinda didn’t seem to hear him. “It cannot be gone. He’s lying. Of course he is. Charlotte must have my dowry.”
“Charlotte is married—”
“To a penniless cork-brain!” she snapped, a glimpse of lucidity shining through. “No, my daughter must have position, wealth, a title.” She cut him a side-eyed glance, and an eerie light glimmered in her eye. “Men always take everything.”
Enough. His wife was his primary concern. “Lucinda, go to the dower house, and stay there. Or I swear, I’ll have you arrested today for imprisoning my wife.”
With a final hate-filled glare, she shuffled away, grumbling beneath her breath.
He ran a hand through his hair again, drawing in a calming breath. The woman was unhinged, and needed to be kept under constant surveillance. He’d exile her to his cottage in the northernmost part of Scotland with a couple of brawny Scots to oversee her care. She’d either live out the remainder of her days there or in Bedlam.
A more urgent matter consumed him. He must find Vangie.
Was she still nearby? Had she returned to the house?
He ran back to the stables.
A new stable hand hovered at the entrance, staring at Lucinda’s retreating form. He spit on the ground and turned to go inside the barn.
“You there.” Ian called. “What’s your name?”
The young man paused and flushed. “Ben, sir.”
“Have you seen Lady—”
Two riders exploded from the paddock, their stockinged legs exposed as they galloped their horses across the pasture.
Sprinting to the corral fence, Ian jumped onto the lower rail and yelled, “Vangie, stop! Let me explain.”
The wings of the gentle breeze sweeping across the clearing carried Ian’s words away. In frustrated horror, he watched Vangie’s horse rear. Good God, had his shouting spooked the beast? She slid off the horse’s broad rump, tumbling to the ground and lay in a heap, unmoving.
His heart stopped, terror numbing his mind. “Van—gie!” He didn’t recognize the tormented voice that ripped from his throat.
Ailsa swung her horse around, evidently intent on rescuing her mistress. But before she reached her, a gypsy on horseback emerged from the trees and pounded to her side.
The man at the pond.
Vangie obviously knew him, for she stumbled to her feet, holding her side. The Roma leaned down, and in one smooth movement, swung her behind him on his sorrel gelding.
She looked over her shoulder, and across the distance, her gaze collided with Ian’s. Her shoulders slumped, and she closed her eyes before laying her head on the gypsy’s broad back.
With a yip, the unknown man kicked his gelding. He and Ailsa raced their horses over a knoll and out of sight.
Mind numb, Ian roamed his gaze over the stunned audience assembled in the paddock. A couple of stable hands coughed and averted their eyes. In full view of a dozen of his staff, his bride had fled with another man. Humiliation scorched his cheeks.
They didn’t know about Lucinda’s lies he reminded himself, though it did little to appease his battered pride.
Neither did Vangie.
Her mare dutifully trotted back to the enclosure, and Ben snared the reins. He led the docile horse into the barn, Ian close on his heels. At once he set to saddling Pericles. He was going after his wife and nothing would stop him from bringing her home.
Glancing up, he froze, eyes narrowed in furious disbelief. His focus trained on Ben, he walked around the other side of the stallion, pretending to adjust the saddle.
The groom had loosened the mare’s girth strap. Deftly, he edged his fingers beneath the saddle then casually slipped his fist into his pocket.
