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“Now,” he said, and drew back his fist and slammed it into her jaw.

Colin looked around the drawing room. It was late afternoon and everyone was assembled for tea.

“Where’s Joan?” he asked.

“I haven’t seen her since just after lunch,” Sophie said. “Nor has Alex, for we were together all afternoon.”

“We were looking for clues, specifically which door the murderer entered to come into the castle. But we couldn’t find any clues or a plausible entry.”

Sophie threw a scone at her. “You are so stubborn, Alex! We did find the door. It’s the small one off the kitchen, Colin. I know it had been forced, but Alex here claims that it was just normal use because it is so old.”

“I will look at it,” Colin said. “Thank you both for trying.”

“Where the devil is Sinjun?” Ryder asked the drawing room at large.

It was a small son of one of Colin’s crofters who delivered the letter.

“Don’t move,” Colin told the boy as he ripped open the envelope. He read it once and then again. He paled. Then he cursed.

Colin questioned the boy, but he could tell him nothing. It was a gentleman, the boy said, his hat pulled down over his eyes, and he wore a scarf that muffled him to his ears. He did look something familiar, but he didn’t know, not really. He was on a horse and he never got down from the big brute.

Colin walked into the drawing room and handed the letter to Douglas.

“Good God, I don’t believe this!”

There was pandemonium until finally, it was Ryder who read aloud:

Lord Ashburnham,

I have your heiress wife. I will kill her if you don’t bring me fifty thousand pounds. I give you two days to fetch the money from Edinburgh. I suggest you leave immediately. I will be watching. When you return to Vere Castle with the money I will contact you again.

“Blessed hell,” Alex said.

A few moments later Philpot came into the drawing room to announce that one of the lads had just found both Crocker and Ostle bound and gagged in the tack room. Neither man knew who had done it to them. Just talkin’ they were, an’ knocked all over their heads.

Colin turned to stride from the room.

“Where are you going?” Douglas asked, catching his arm.

“To Edinburgh, to get the damned money.”

“Wait a moment, Colin,” Ryder said slowly, stroking his long fingers over his jaw. “We must do a bit of thinking now. I do believe I have a plan. Come along.”

Sophie flew to her feet. “Oh no you don’t! We came here to help Sinjun and you shan’t exclude us now!”

“No indeed!” Alex shouted, then clutched her belly and ran to the corner of the room, where Philpot had placed a basin.

MacDuff watched Colin ride from Vere Castle early the following morning, riding that huge brute stallion of his, Gulliver. Fast as the wind, that one was. He’d supposed that Colin would have left immediately, but then again, this marriage hadn’t really been to Colin’s liking. He’d married Joan Sherbrooke only to get his hands on her money. Why should he hurry? Why should he care overly if she was killed?

Of course, his honor would demand that he ransom her.

Colin rode alone. MacDuff rubbed his hands together. With luck, Colin would return to Vere Castle sometime tonight, money in hand. He’d decided to let them all gnaw on their fear for her, and not deliver the other letter until the following morning. But something urged him to bring it all to a close. There was no reason to draw it out.

He rather liked the notion that both her brothers and their wives were here at Vere Castle. He hoped they would try to interfere, that they would somehow try to fool him with some stupid plot, and come with Colin into the trap MacDuff had set for him. He would enjoy showing them up as inept English bastards. He was rather pleased they were here; he couldn’t have planned it more to his liking.

The English losing soundly. That had a delicious irony to it and MacDuff was pleased. It dulled the ever-present pain in his chest.

He waited a while longer to see if either of Sinjun’s brothers would leave the castle, but no one came through the great front doors. He waited another hour. Finally satisfied that nothing was afoot now, MacDuff mounted his horse and rode back to the small croft.


Tags: Catherine Coulter Sherbrooke Brides Historical