Sister of Rogues (21 page)

Shauna thought she saw Jamie's mouth twitch once or twice while Ian ranted about finding her and Abigail on board and nearly having a mutiny on his hands. Mari smiled outright a time or two, which caused Ian to glare in her direction and Jamie to assume a defensive stance. Shauna was tempted to roll her eyes at the posturing, but Ian was still angry with her.

She was none too happy with her brother either. He had remained adamant in his orders that the women stay locked inside his cabin. No amount of wheedling or cajoling had persuaded him to change his mind. Captain Henderson had been equally unyielding, although his tone of voice had been less harsh than Ian's.

Or maybe Shauna just liked the sound of the slight American twang.

“'Tis a sorry state we are in when our own sister cannae obey her brother,” Ian fumed, turning on one heel.

“Obey?” Abigail, Mari and Shauna asked in unison.

Jamie grinned. “I would be careful the way ye word that, brother.”

Ian drew his brows together. “We had a near battle on our hands because they stowed away.”

Shauna stood. “We stowed away because we kenned ye would nae let us aboard. 'Tis a foolish notion ye men have about women on ships.”

“'Tis nae my fault sailors are superstitious,” Ian answered. “'Twas my responsibility to get the ship to London safely. Ye jeopardized that.”

“Aye, that ye did,” Jamie confirmed. “Ye should have kenned better than that.”

Shauna glared at him before turning her scowl on Ian. “Fiona is my sister too, in case ye forgot.”

Ian sighed and spoke in a calmer tone. “I have nae forgotten. I just doona need to have both my sisters in danger.”

Shauna opened her mouth to retort and then snapped it shut, not able to argue the point. Sometimes she just had to love her brothers—both of them—even if they could be irritating as sand in a shoe.

“Might I suggest we examine the information we have regarding Fiona?” Captain Henderson asked.

“An excellent idea,” Mari said, “and do stop wearing out the carpet, Ian.”

He mumbled something under his breath but slumped into a chair by the desk. “So what do we ken besides the fact that Henderson took Fiona to Dublin?”

Jamie recounted the events that led up to the abduction and what had been done in London, more for Captain Henderson's benefit than anyone else's since nothing had changed since Ian had gone to Edinburgh.

Captain Henderson nodded. “Avery told me Fiona was his daughter, distraught over her recent widowhood, and that she needed to get away. I hope you will all forgive me,” he finished. “I did not know who she was.”

Jamie looked grim. “Avery—or Alton—is a devious mon.”

The captain's expression was equally grim. “I do not like being deceived. If the man is still in Dublin, I want to meet up with him one more time.”

“Aye, we all would,” Ian replied.

“A swift death would be too kind,” Jamie added and exchanged a look with Mari.

Shauna couldn't blame either of her brothers for wanting to kill the man given what he'd attempted with both Jillian and Mari. “Please have patience. Before ye all take your revenge on the mon, let us find Fiona first,” Shauna said.

“I think it would be beneficial if I talked with Mr. Molyneux,” Mari said. “Maybe he has remembered something.”

Jamie's face darkened. “We already discussed that. The answer is nae.”

Shauna turned to Robert, ignoring the fiery unspoken language flying between her brother and sister-by-marriage. “Did that monster give you any indication where he was taking Fiona?”

He shook his head. “I questioned Avery about your sister's condition when they left the ship since she was still looking ill. He said he felt sure with a few days of care, she wouldn't be the same person.”

“Did he indicate if they were staying in Dublin?” Mari asked. “Or did he say anything about taking her to the country?”

Ian snorted. “I doona think the mon was concerned over Fiona's health.”

“Besides,” Abigail said thoughtfully, “most English still consider anything beyond the Pale of Dublin barbaric. I would suspect Frenchmen would find the Irish countryside even more appalling.”

“I don't know about that,” Captain Henderson answered, “but they took a city hack, not a country coach.”

“All right then. We will assume they are still in Dublin,” Ian said and rose. “I will get the ship provisioned and then look for new crew to replace those we left at Whitby. With luck, we can be ready to sail in three or four days' time.”

“I will go with you,” Captain Henderson said.

As they were about to leave, Ian turned at the door to look at the women. “And this time, there will be no stowing away. Understood?”

“I would not risk trying to get onboard the ship again,” Mari advised Shauna as they waited for Abigail in the richly appointed parlor of her father's townhouse two afternoons later. “Both Jamie and Ian will be watching like hawks.”

“I ken that,” Shauna said and looked around, trying to take her mind off the fact that Ian and Jamie would be leaving without her. A silver candelabra stood atop the gleaming ebony wood of a closed grand piano. Ancestral oil paintings in gold-gilded frames adorned the walls and the ivory satin damask of the curtains matched the padded cushions on the ornately-carved mahogany furniture. Figurines of fine china and delicate crystal vases graced the small tables scattered around. “I kenned Abigail's father was an earl, but I had nae idea he was such a wealthy one.”

“He is, although he is as down to earth as Abigail, and he seldom mentions it.” Mari gestured. “This room was decorated by Abigail's mother. I guess Lord Sherrington left it this way as a tribute to his wife.”

“He did,” Abigail said as she entered from the hallway. “He hardly ever comes in here.” She sank down on one of the dainty chairs with curved cabriole legs. “I prefer the library myself, but this room is good for private conversation.”

“I was just about to tell Mari how I feel so useless sitting here and doing nothing.”

“What we are planning to do will help,” Abigail said.

“Do ye really think we'll be able to extract any information from Brice Molyneux?” Shauna asked. “I thought Jamie already questioned him.”

“He did, but Jamie's method of persuasion is different from ours,” Mari said.

Abigail nodded. “Fiona did tell you how she and Mari and I were able to get Shane's medieval scroll out of the hands of the customs man, did she not?”

“Aye,” Shauna replied. “And, if I remember, Jamie was nae pleased about how ye did it.”

Mari waved a dismissive hand. “He could not deny our plan worked.”

“And did Jamie nae say ye'd already discussed this idea and ye were nae to talk to this Mr. Molyneux?”

“Jamie said I was not to talk to Mr. Molyneux
alone
.” Mari smiled mischievously. “Obviously, if you and Abigail come along, I will not be
alone
.”

Shauna grinned at her. “I like the way ye think.”

“Well then, we had better be going,” Abigail said as she rose. “I ordered Father's carriage to be brought around.”

“He did not ask where we were going?” Mari asked as they walked into the foyer.

“Oh, he did. I told him we were going shopping.” Abigail gestured to the maids who waited by the door. “That is why they are here. I thought we could drop them off at Gunther's to enjoy ices while we go
shopping
for information.”

Shauna laughed. “And I like that plan too. 'Tis devious.”

Abigail pushed her spectacles up. “Sometimes a woman has to do what is best.”

“Ye did
what
?” Ian asked later that evening when they were all gathered in the library. He almost dropped the whisky bottle he was holding.

“
After
I forbid it?” Jamie said indignantly, setting his own glass down.

Captain Henderson looked from one man to the other and took a sip of his own dram. “Quite good stuff.”

Both her brothers ignored the attempt at civility, but Shauna smiled at him.

This afternoon, her respect for her sisters by marriage had increased. After a somewhat rocky start with the Earl of Sefton's nephew insisting he'd already told them everything he knew, his memory had returned suddenly when Abigail held up several vowel notes that Brice had signed over to Augustus Barry, the less reputable brother of Lord Barrymore, in a high-stakes Faro game at White's the week before. That Abigail had known to send her father's man of business in search of such a thing had impressed Shauna, even after Mari told her that many of the younger relatives of the Prince Regent's set commonly gambled and often lost to the more experienced players.

Mari herself had been no less resourceful. When she'd mentioned that Walter Avery was suspected in abducting Fiona and Brice could be considered an accessory, he had blanched and gripped both armrests of his chair for support. After that, the words had tumbled out so fast, they could scarce be understood.

Now all Shauna had to do was convince her brothers to thank them for their efforts. Given the men's livid looks, that might be the most difficult feat of all.

“I forbid ye to go see that mon!” Jamie said again, this time picking up his glass and draining it. “Why can ye nae heed my words?”

Mari rounded her eyes like an owl's and blinked innocently at him. “But I did heed your words. I did not go alone.”

Jamie ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Do not toy with the words. Ye ken what I meant.”

“And ye.” Ian looked sternly at Abigail. “What do ye think Shane will say when he learns of your shenanigans?”

Abigail gave him an equally wide-eyed look. “I suspect he will thank me.”

An odd sound that quickly turned into a cough emanated from Captain Henderson as he studied the contents of his glass.

“Thank ye?” Ian ran a hand through his hair too. “Ye ladies are causing us to grey before our time. What the devil were ye—”

“Oh, for the love of the saints!” Shauna said. “Ye might as well hear us out before ye continue to curse.” She walked over to the bar area and placed three small glasses on the counter and poured a dram of whisky in each. She gave one to Abigail, another to Mari and sipped her own. “Now will ye listen?”

Whether the sight of all three women drinking
uisge beatha
without sputtering had halted her brothers' speech or whether they were simply taking in air, Shauna didn't know, but she didn't give them opportunity to go on.

Briefly, she reviewed how the afternoon had gone and what clever steps Abigail and Mari had taken. “So Brice Molyneux confirmed our suspicions. While he dinnae ken exactly where that beast was taking Fiona, he did recall Avery saying he wanted to keep her mind drugged until she was safely locked up and could not escape.”

“In a gaol?” Jamie asked. “Ye need a reason to put a person in prison.”

“Avery made up a reason to put Shane in gaol,” Abigail said.

“'Tis easier to do with a mon,” Ian replied. “What would someone charge Fiona with? Especially in Ireland?”

“May I interrupt?” Captain Henderson asked.

All heads turned to him and Ian nodded.

“Did you not say Walter Avery escaped from Bedlam?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well, while he was confined there, he may have gotten the idea to abduct your sister and commit her to an asylum.” Robert paused. “Avery did tell me Fiona was despondent. If she was given enough laudanum, it wouldn't be difficult to commit her, especially if a generous amount of money accompanied the request.”

Shauna's blood chilled. “Fiona could be locked in a place for lunatics?”

Ian exchanged a look with Jamie. “That could account for why we have nae gotten a ransom note.”

“Aye,” Jamie added grimly. “The mon wants to destroy her soul instead.”

“He can never do that,” Shauna said. “Fiona is strong willed. She will nae succumb to such.” A candle flickered, its light dimming, and Shauna hoped it wasn't a portent of all hope diminishing as well. She looked from one to the other of the now-silent men. All three wore expressions of dread. “Could she?”

“The sooner we find her the better,” Captain Henderson said quietly.

Shauna looked at the sputtering candle—all hope for Fiona was rapidly dwindling like the candle's light if she were in an asylum. “God speed.”

“Aye,” Ian said, heading for the door. “We sail
now
.”

Jamie opened a drawer in the desk and withdrew a belt holding five sharply honed knives. He added two more to his boots and then went for his claymore that hung from a peg behind the library's door. Strapping it across his back, he looked darkly lethal, his voice deadly calm when he spoke.

“We will find her,” he said, “and we will bring her back.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Kier never had liked the sound of the gate grinding to a close and locking behind him when he entered the small courtyard that led to the asylum. The dull-grey stone of the outside of the building did little to suggest quality of care inside and the barren foyer and long, dark corridor was even less welcoming. The office Kier waited in to see Warden Kelly was not inviting either.

The whole thing reeked of a prison, not a care facility. Even the hospitals, where a man had a fifty-fifty chance of healing or dying of infection, were better. The door at the end of the corridor must have opened, for he suddenly heard curses, shouts and then screams as the lashing of whips echoed down the long hall. The place was revolting. How could anyone commit a relative to a life here?

He assumed a passive expression as the warden opened the door to the office and came in. Warden Kelly and he were not on the best of terms since their philosophies for treatment were diabolically opposed. Kier stood out of courtesy, not wanting to offend the man today. He needed information about Fiona.

“Have a seat,” Kelly said and took his own behind his desk. “To what do I owe this rare visit?”

“I would like a little more background information on one of my guests, Mrs. Fiona MacLeod.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow. “She is quite the looker, isn't she?”

Kier managed to smile pleasantly. “Her looks do not concern me. I am inquiring about her background.”

The warden looked skeptical, but he opened a file cabinet next to his desk and took out a folder. “Not much here you don't already know. She's from Carlisle, married and widowed within a week, which affected her mind so she cannot think clearly.”

“Her thought process seems clear to me,” Kier said, pushing aside images of Fiona in the garden, seeming to talk to air.

“Some of the lunatics are quite clever,” Kelly replied. “They tell you what you want to hear.”

Kier shook his head. “She does not act like the other women.”

The warden smiled slightly. “With all due respect, you are not a physician, simply a host for the overflow we have from the women's ward.”

“I have been able to observe her behavior though.”

“So did her father.” Kelly glanced at his notes again. “According to him, she was not able to accept her husband's death, did not want to take off her wedding gown and tried to kill herself. I daresay you are not an expert in the field of abnormal behavior.”

Kier felt his face set. “My mother killed herself, sir. I observed the signs of her decline into melancholy. In hindsight, there were other symptoms I should have caught as well, but I failed to do so. My point is, I see none of those traits in Mrs. MacLeod.”

“Perhaps she is getting better then.” The warden closed the file. “However, her father has entrusted us to her care, so she will remain your…guest. If your conscience bothers you, I can have her moved to the main building. One of our elderly inmates died recently so there is a bed available.”

“
No
.” Kier forced his voice to remain calm. By Saint Patrick, he would never allow Fiona to be brought here, not even for evaluation—which was pretty much another word for persuasive torture. “No. The reason I came today was to ask to meet Walter Avery. I have some questions for him.”

“You will have to put them in a letter. Mr. Avery is in France.”

“When will he return?”

The warden shrugged. “I don't know. He travels a lot, which is why he left his daughter with us. He did not want her to try to harm herself again while he was away.”

If what Fiona said was true, the man cared not one wit for her well-being and might well be an imposter. “What do you know of him?” Kier asked.

“What is there to know? He seems to be a successful businessman.” The warden tapped the folder. “I received a cheque from him three weeks ago to cover several months' care for Mrs. MacLeod.”

The money was probably the only thing the warden cared about. “From where was it posted?”

“General delivery, Le Havre. If you want to send a letter, that is the address he gave me to use.”

Kier nodded and rose to take his leave. Obviously, he was not going to learn anything more from the warden. However, Le Harve was the port that Gerard Fontaine used for his import/export business. Perhaps his contact there could find out something about Walter Avery.

Kier would make a point to ask the next time he saw Fontaine.

Fiona placed the book Kier had lent her on the table at lunch the next day. Kier raised an eyebrow in question.

“Did you finish reading it already?”

“Yes, I really enjoyed it.”

Kathleen sneered. “What did ye do? Look at the pictures?”

Fiona ignored her. “I should like to borrow another book—”

“When a lady asks ye a question, ye are to answer!”

Before Fiona could give her an obvious retort, Kier interrupted. “That is enough.”

Kathleen narrowed her eyes. “Why are ye always protecting the whore? Oh, forget I asked. I just answered my own question.”

“You are excused.” Kier nodded toward Ada who grabbed Kathleen's arm and pulled her up.

“I have not finished my lunch!”

“Ye have now,” Ada said. “Seamus will take ye to your room. There will be no exercise for ye this afternoon either.”

Kathleen glared at Fiona as Seamus took hold of Kathleen's arm. Lona started to laugh as they left and Dulcee looked bewildered. Fiona sighed.

“I did not mean to cause trouble.”

“You did not. Kathleen needs to control her speech.” Kier put down his spoon. “Of course you may borrow another book.”

“Could I help Lona and Dulcee find something as well?” As much as Fiona would have liked to be alone with Kier and chance another kiss, she really didn't want anyone, especially Ada, thinking he was favoring her. And—she felt a twinge of conscience—she wanted to have another look at the city map.

Kier looked dubious. No doubt he was remembering the catastrophe that happened the last time they'd gone to the library. “I never did get to tell Dulcee about the archangels,” Fiona added quickly, “and maybe Lona would like to see pictures of them.”

“Just as long as I don't have to look at the devil-man again,” Lona said emphatically.

Dulcee turned shining eyes toward Fiona. “I want to see angels.”

Ada snorted. “Lunatics.”

A muscle in Kier's jaw twitched and he stood. “Do not use that word in my presence again. My
guests
are welcome to look at books.”

Ada set her mouth in a tight line, but she remained silent as she followed them to the library. Fiona gave the table a quick glance as they entered, glad to see the maps were still spread out. She'd have to work her way over there somehow. First though, she needed to find a book that wouldn't send Lona into hysterics.

As though he'd read her mind, Kier pulled a book from one of the shelves and handed it to Fiona. “Perhaps Lona and Dulcee could look at this while you select something for yourself.”

Fiona glanced at the title,
Collections of Baroque Art,
and suppressed a smile. Abigial loved art books, although mainly to see sculptures of naked men. Fiona furrowed her brows. Hopefully, there weren't any in this book. She wasn't too sure how either Lona or Dulcee would react to that. Thumbing through the pages quickly, she breathed a sigh of relief. Most of the pictures seemed to be religious in nature.

Kier gave her a curious glance. “Are you looking for something specific?”

“I just wanted to make sure there were no statues of nak…of men without…” Fiona felt herself blush. “I mean, I wanted to be sure there were no pictures that were—”

“Suggestive?” A corner of Kier's mouth quirked up. “I think the book is safe enough for the ladies.”

“Yes, of course not. I mean…” Fiona caught a glimpse of humour in his eyes—or perhaps it was some other emotion, for the sapphire colour had turned darker, almost smoldering. A look that was suggestive in itself. And inviting. Even more so when his gaze shifted to her mouth. Fiona's breath shortened and she found herself parting her lips to take in air. She sucked in her lower lip nervously, which caused Kier's eyes to light with interest. A shiver slid down her spine, even though her body felt on fire. Lord in heaven, she wanted another kiss…

Fiona forced herself to look away as her cheeks flamed hotter and handed the book to Dulcee. “See if you can find a picture of an angel and maybe I can tell you which one it is.”

Dulcee nodded, taking the book and opening it so Lona could see as well.

Ada moved to stand behind them. Fiona wasn't sure if the woman might actually be interested in the pictures or if she were positioning herself for an outburst. Either way, at least she wasn't watching Fiona like a hawk, which was a good thing since Fiona was having trouble making her body parts obey her.

Kier had taken a step closer. “What would you like?”

Startled, her gaze flew back to his. He looked dangerously alluring, dressed in black as usual, ebony hair loose and eyes showing no flicker of blue in the light of the oil lamps. Faint stubble shaded his jaw and cheeks, outlining the chiseled contours of his face even more. Her skin tingled, her stomach fluttered and delicious warmth spread from it throughout her belly as her senses honed in on him. He was darkly beautiful, like a fallen angel, and not the kind Dulcee spoke of.

Dulcee. The real world reasserted itself into Fiona's brain. They were in the library with Dulcee, Lona and worse, Ada. Fiona shook her head to clear it. Kier was asking her what she would like
here
?

“I doona think I understand.”

Kier raised a black brow in question. “What kind of a book would you like?”

“Oh.” A book. She had asked to borrow a book. Kier had not meant anything by his remark. Fiona had, after all, been the one to blurt out nonsense about naked men. She needed to stop thinking about the two kisses they'd shared. Kier was as braw and bonny as her brothers and, the Lord knew,
they
had kissed lots of women. Kisses didn't mean the same thing to a man.

“More poetry from Walter Scott, or would you like to try something else?”

Try something else…
No
. Fiona stopped her thoughts from wandering into fantasyland again. Kier didn't mean anything suggestive by that question. He was asking what she wanted to read.
Read
. Yet…the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly as he watched her.

“Uh…why do ye nae pick something for me?”

The eyebrow he'd lowered went up again. Then he nodded and turned away.

“Let me see if I can find something you will think pleasurable.”

Fiona stared after him. He did
not
mean that remark to be suggestive either.

Did he? No. He'd walked off. Something was wrong with her mind. She'd been imprisoned too long, that was all.

Imprisoned. The thought jolted her back to reality. She needed to escape. Through her peripheral vision, she could see Ada still looking over Lona's shoulder at the pictures. Kier had disappeared behind a bookcase. Fiona casually moved toward the desk, running her fingers along the polished surface as though admiring the wood while she studied the map. She spotted the symbol marking the Dublin Lunatic Asylum not too far from the River Liffey. Checking again to make sure Ada wasn't watching, Fiona bent down slightly. Erin had said the Sisters of Charity were located on North William Street, near Harold's Cross. Fiona scanned the map quickly and then put her finger on a spot.
Yes.
There it was.

“If you find maps interesting, I have some books on geography,” Kier said from behind her.

Fiona stifled a squeak and stepped back quickly, only to collide with the solid wall of Kier's chest. Stumbling, she lurched sideways and felt Kier's breath tickle her ear as he reached around to take her elbow to steady her. His hand brushed the side of her breast as he did and her breathing hitched. For a brief moment, she was enveloped in his body heat and the clean soap-and-spice scent of him, and then he let her go abruptly as though he'd just realized what part of her he was touching. She nearly stumbled again, but this time because her knees had turned to jelly.

“Are you all right?”

“Uh…”

“Do you want to sit down?”

“Uh…” For some reason, speech eluded her, a trait no one had ever accused her of before. Fiona managed to make her legs support her. Good heavens, Kier must think her completely daft. “Nae. I am fine. Ye just startled me, 'tis all.”

“I apologize. You did seem rather intent.” Kier's gaze moved toward the map and then returned to Fiona. “Was there some place you were looking for?”

“Nae.” Fiona shook her head for emphasis and then realized the gesture might be too much. She never had been good at lying. “Well, maybe. I was just wondering how big a city Dublin was.” There. That was true. At least partly.

“Not as large as London.” Kier frowned and lowered his voice. “If you are thinking to escape, cease. The city is a dangerous place for a woman.”

Fiona's hands turned to ice as though her blood had chilled. Did Kier know she had found the hidden passageway? He couldn't. Could he? She managed to find her voice. “I am locked in my room except for lunch and the courtyard in the afternoon. Seamus and Ada stand guard. How would I escape?”

“You will not. Believe me, Mrs. MacLeod, you are safer here than you would be out there.” Kier glanced at Ada and then back to Fiona. “I will not let anything bad happen to you.” He handed her a book, bowing slightly to take his leave. “Trust me.”

Trust him?

“Fiona! I found an angel. Come tell me who it is,” Dulcee said.

Gathering her wits about her, Fiona moved toward the sofa and looked down at the picture of an angel with flowing black hair and dark eyes. He held a sword in one hand, shield in the other, and had his foot on the head of a dragon. “'Tis the archangel Michael.” For a moment, Fiona's vision blurred and the angel looked like Kier before the image cleared again. “He's called the protector and the avenger.”