Kresley Cole - [MacCarrick Brothers 02] (33 page)

“Go on. Please.”

“I was a gunman.”

“What is that?”

He swallowed. “I…I killed people for the crown.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you worked with Courtland. And how could my father be involved in that?”

So Hugh explained that Weyland headed an organization that dealt with
situations
—ones that couldn’t be resolved diplomatically. He revealed what all of their roles were.

“Quin and Rolley, too? Why didn’t I ever discover this?” she asked.

“Most family members don’t. And your father never wanted this to touch you. That’s always been his worst fear. Lying to you sat ill with him.”

Her voice soft, she asked, “Did lying to me sit ill with you?”

“Never lied to you.”

She bit her lip, frowning as she clearly thought back. Then she said, “My father did try to have Grey killed?” At Hugh’s hesitant nod, she asked, “Was Grey right to say that you were favored over him?”

He ran a hand over his face. “I dinna believe so before. I thought Grey got the jobs he did because he was a bloody decade older than me and had years more experience. Now…I think unconsciously, Weyland might have.”

Her eyelids were getting heavy though he knew she was burning to ask dozens more questions. “And what about Grey’s comment about…you and me?”

After a lengthy hesitation, he grated, “True.”

His answer seemed to hurt her more than anything. “How long, Hugh?”

“Since that summer. Same as you.”

She met his eyes. “Do I know all your secrets now?”

“Aye, lass. Every single one of them.” When she fell silent, he said, “Jane, will you no’ tell me what you’re thinking about all this…about me?”

She answered his question with one of her own: “Will what happened today change anything for us?”

He finally made himself shake his head.

“Then nothing will.” She turned away from him, murmuring, “So it doesn’t matter what I think.”

Forty-five

H
ugh shot up in bed, wracked by a nightmare worse than any he’d ever had. The piercing pain in his ribs and head was still unfamiliar, momentarily confusing him when he woke. He frowned at his surroundings, rubbing at his eyes. It was well into the afternoon. Had he slept through the entire night and morning?

His body was still shaking; his sheets were soaked with sweat. He’d dreamed of Ethan’s fiancée on the cold flagstones, head framed by her blood shining in the moonlight. But instead of seeing her glazed, sightless eyes, Hugh saw Jane, cold and still in death. He shuddered just remembering it—

Where the hell is she?

When he heard her in her room, getting dressed, he let out a relieved breath. After rising in stages, he staggered to the basin, wetted a cloth, then ran it over himself to wash the chill sweat from his body.

Her light footsteps sounded in the hall outside his room as she made her way downstairs. He dressed as quickly as his injuries would allow, then followed. When he eased down the steps and into the kitchen, he found her motionless, staring blankly.

The first thing he noticed was that her bruise had darkened and spread since yesterday, and he flinched to see it. Then his gaze landed on the object of her rapt attention—the
Leabhar
.

He crossed to her side, silent. Even after all this time, the mysteries of the book still stunned even him. He wondered again how many of his forefathers had futilely tried to burn it or bury it in a locked chest, desperate to rid themselves of it. But the
Leabhar
was tied to his family like a disease passed down.

“It can’t be the same,” she said softly. “I threw it in the water.”

“It is the same.”

“S-someone must have dragged it up from the bottom. You got Mòrag’s brothers to retrieve it.”

“It’s dry, Jane.”

“This is a jest. It has to be,” she insisted. “There’s more than one book.”

He opened to the last page with the distinct blood stains.

She gaped at it in horrified wonder. “I don’t understand.”

“This is why I dinna care if you threw it in. The
Leabhar
always finds its way back to a MacCarrick. Do you still think this is naught but superstition?”

She rubbed her forehead. “I…I don’t…” She was saved from answering when the loud nicker of horses sounded down the drive.

When he strode to the window, she asked, “Who can that be?”

A coach pulled to a stop at the front entrance. Hugh spied a man stepping out, and panic rioted in his chest. “It’s…Quin.”

Hugh knew his telegraph would have arrived at Weyland’s yesterday morning; Quin must have set out at once, taking the daily rail to Scotland, then crossing the distance from a station to here by coach.

Quin could only be here for one of two reasons. He’d come to collect Jane—though Hugh hadn’t asked him to, not yet.

Or he’d come to deliver news of Ethan.

Hugh turned to her, but she was already ascending the stairs, her back ramrod straight, no doubt thinking Hugh had telegraphed her cousin to rush up here and collect her at the first opportunity.

Before Quin could make the front steps, Hugh threw open the door and met him. “Why’re you here?” he demanded. “Have you heard anything about Ethan?”

Quin answered, “We were just receiving the latest dispatches in London when I got your message.” His expression was guarded. “We haven’t been able to find him. I do know that witnesses heard gun report and saw two men yanking Ethan’s body into an alley.”

“To rob him or aid him?”

“We don’t know—only that he’d definitely been shot.”

Definitely been shot.
Hugh stepped back to keep himself from pitching forward. He’d blindly held on to the belief that Ethan lived.

“He could still be alive,” Quin said. “We’re combing the area, and Weyland will let you know if anything breaks.”

Hugh didn’t trust others to look for his brother—he needed to be out there searching. His brows drew together. “But why are
you
here?”

Quin answered, “Weyland wants the list destroyed or delivered into his possession.”

“It’s destroyed. Then why’re you in a coach?”

“To retrieve Jane.”

“I dinna send for you to do that.”

“No, but you also didn’t tell us that she was staying with you, just that she was safe here and had heard a great deal from Grey. As Weyland observed, your message said more than was written. Was I wrong to come for her?”

In the fall morning air, Hugh had begun sweating again, reminding him of haunting scenes from the night….

When he didn’t answer, Quin snapped, “Goddamn it, man, make a decision and quickly. You’re affecting others’ lives now. And I won’t watch you toying with my cousin any longer.”

“No’ toying with her,” Hugh said quietly.

“Maybe not on purpose, but the end is still the same—and it’s been going on for years!” Quin was the only male in Jane’s generation and was like an older brother to all the cousins, but especially to Jane who was an only child. Hugh understood Quin’s anger and didn’t begrudge him for it. “I’m sure she’s been too proud to tell you this, but Jane’s been in love with you since she was young.”

“I ken that.” Unbelievable as it seemed to Hugh.

Quin didn’t hide his look of surprise. “Then what is it? Is it because you think she can do better? I hate to tell you this, MacCarrick, but she can. I know what you are and what you’ve done.” He lowered his voice. “Now that the list is destroyed, you’re going right back to work. Would you leave her behind each week as you sneak off to make a kill? What kind of life would that be for her?”

“She knows about me. And if I kept her as my wife, I would no’
continue
,” he said, as if he was arguing to keep her.

“So you’ll stay at home with her? Try to be domestic?” he asked, his voice full of derision. “How will you fit in with her friends and family, when you simply don’t know how? My God, you couldn’t sit a gathering before you turned killer.”

He was right. Hugh had been too long in the field, and was so
different
from the people in her life anyway.

“If you can’t make a decision,” Quin said, his tone low and seething, “I’ll bloody make it for you!”

The dream, the ominous reminder of the book, Quin’s arrival—what more did Hugh need to see to realize he had to let her go…?

Apparently, Hugh needed to see Jane at the door with her bags packed, her mien stoic, and jaw battered. Hell, after the events of yesterday and the sight of the book this morning, she likely wouldn’t have stayed with him anyway.

Quin sucked in a breath at the sight of her face. “My God, Jane. Are you all right?” When she nodded, Quin shot Hugh a black look.

Jane was dressed for travel, her bags at her feet. She was truly leaving. Today.

“You’re goin’ with him?” Hugh asked, his voice breaking a pitch lower.

“What else would I do?” She smoothed her skirts. “I’m glad you sent for him when the threat passed. Very forward-thinking.”

“I dinna—”

“I thought so as well,” Quin interrupted. “Doing the right thing for both of you. Jane, we need to get on the road if we intend to catch the train in Perth. Say good-bye and come along.”

When she nodded absently, Quin collected her bags, then strode to the carriage—because they were leaving. Now.

Hugh had known he and Jane would part, but he’d thought he would have time to prepare himself. He turned back to Jane, staring down at her. “I was going to see you home.”

“You don’t think Quin can keep me safe?”

“Aye. Now. But I wanted to get you settled in, before—”

“Before
you
leave again?” She shrugged, her face cold.

“We knew it would come to this. No reason to prolong it unnecessarily.”

He exhaled, running a shaking hand over his face.

“We both have to get on with our lives,” she continued. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

“I doona want you to go yet.”

“Yet.”

“What do
you
bloody want?” Was he sweating more? He couldn’t stop seeing that dream before him.

Her voice quavering with emotion, she said, “We’re back to the simple choice. We put the curse behind us. Or you refuse, and once I leave here today, I will never want to see you again.”

He couldn’t promise her he would disregard or forget something that had molded him and he couldn’t easily give her loss, which was all she would have with him. But he had to know…“You’d be willing to be with me, even after everything you learned?” he asked, wishing she would say no. To find the one woman who could accept him, and to find her in
Jane
would be too much.

“I’d be willing to
try
, to see,” she finally answered. “To maybe understand everything better.”

“And after seeing the book?”

“That’s something I don’t think I will
ever
understand.” She shivered. “Yes, when I look at it, I fear it—but I also know we could be stronger than anything written there.”

Jane was here for the taking, ready to face hell for Hugh—and it humbled him. But shouldn’t he be ready to do the same for her?

“Jane, come along!” Quin called from the carriage. “We have to make a train.”

She turned back to Hugh. “If I leave here today, it’s over. Forever, Hugh. I must move on from this.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “If you don’t choose me now, you never will. But the sad thing is that one day you’ll realize what you threw away.” When he was silent, her eyes watered. “And I promise you, it’ll be too late to get it back.” She turned toward the carriage. Just as she was about to climb in, Jane stopped and strode back to Hugh.

She’d seen reason—she would stay with Hugh for a week more, a
day
more.

The cracking slap to his face took him completely off guard. “That was for the last ten years.” She slapped the other side of his face, even harder. “And that’s for the next!”

Forty-six

“I
never thought I’d say this,” her father began, as he nervously regarded Jane’s face, “but perhaps you ought to just cry.”

Quin had suggested the same thing repeatedly on their journey back to London, right up until he’d deposited her in her father’s study. She’d been home for an hour—long enough for her father to finish explaining what he and Hugh and everyone else did.

“I’m fine.”
I’m numb
. When had her voice begun to sound so tinny?

She took a sip of her iced Scotch, defying him to say anything about her drinking so early.

“I’m sure this has all been a blow to you.”

“Are you competing for the most patent understatement?” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, really, Papa,
imports
?”

He shrugged helplessly, and she sighed. He’d finally been totally forthcoming with her—she thought. She’d been markedly less so about Hugh’s reasons for letting her go. “Who knows what he’s thinking?” she’d said to him and to Quin. “He made comments like he thought he wasn’t good enough for me….”

“Jane, you keep saying you’re fine, but you don’t look it.”

No, she’d been on the verge of crying since she’d first comprehended that Quin was there to retrieve her. In fact, she’d been as close to it as she’d ever been, without actually spilling tears. As she’d absently packed her things, she’d somehow prevented herself because she’d known that with her first tear, she might start something she couldn’t stop.

“You’re right.” She gingerly touched the chilled glass on her swollen jaw, but the pain made her wince, and her father flinch—again. “This has all been a lot for me to digest. I see you and Quin and even Rolley, and I feel like you’re strangers.” She’d tried to put on a strong front when facing each of them, but for right now, all she could seem to manage was a wary indifference. “And Hugh? I had an idea of him for half my life. Now that’s…changed.”

She wasn’t angry about Hugh’s role in deceiving her. He had a job to do, and after talking to her father, she better understood the seriousness and significance of what he did. One of his bullets could spare a million of them in some needless war, and yet his job was lonely and grueling and he would never receive credit—or support if he’d been captured. She’d forgiven Hugh—for this, at least—but her father? “As for you, well, perhaps you might have provided a bit more warning about all this, and a lot less pressuring me to marry an assassin. Just a thought.”