The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)

William’s glance was hostile, but he answered readily enough. “When Allan promised that she’d see her mam, she went willing. Glad to see the back of her, if truth be told. The brat’s been nothing but trouble. Tried to run away. Blockheaded idea. Where the devil would she go? As pudding-brained as her mother. I hope Allan intends to teach her better manners, before she weds my lad in a couple of years.”

“She’ll never…” Fiona caught Diarmid’s eye and swallowed the rest of her denial. There was little point fighting with William. At best, he was Allan’s cat’s paw. He had no influence over the result of this particular game.

“In that case, we’ll take our leave,” Diarmid said.

“Aye, get out of my house, you stinking Mactavish, and take your stinking wife with ye. I’m glad to be shot of ye.”

With drunken violence, he rang the bell. The woman who had let them in appeared so swiftly, it was clear she’d been listening at the door.

Diarmid took Fiona’s hand, but she hardly noticed. The poison in the air here took her back to the years at Bancavan. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. The idea of her daughter in this spiteful drunkard’s custody made her stomach heave. Blindly she let Diarmid lead her back to the hall, then through the open door.

As the maid turned to go, Fiona struggled to speak. “Christina was well and unharmed last you saw her?”

The woman kept going. For a moment, Fiona thought she wasn’t going to answer. Only as she reached the corridor did she mutter without turning around. “Aye, she was.”

“Thank God,” Fiona said, knees sagging with relief.

“But Allan was in a gey evil mood when he was here.” As the woman looked over her shoulder, her eyes were sharp. “I wouldnae like a bairn of mine in his care.”

A choked sound of distress escaped Fiona, and she stumbled. “Do you mean…?

?

But the woman had gone.

Fiona felt like vomiting. From bitter experience, she knew what Allan was like when he was displeased. Poor, poor Christina.

“Sweetheart, dinna give up hope.” The deep voice seemed to come from a different universe. “We’ll get her back, I swear.”

“We’ve come so far for nothing,” she whispered, as Diarmid pressed her close to his side. Her mind told her he was warm and strong, but her despairing heart felt only an icy cold. “I can’t believe it.”

Carefully he helped her down to their coach. He said something to the driver before he handed her inside the cabin. Fiona hardly noticed or cared. Blackness enveloped her. Christina was lost to them.

“We’ll never get her out of Bancavan,” she forced through a throat as tight as a knot. “It’s a fortress. Anyone called Mactavish will get a dirk in his ribs the minute he sets foot in the glen.” She slumped on the seat and stared sightlessly ahead. “It’s hopeless.”

“We’re no’ beaten yet.” Diarmid sat next to her and put his arm around her. “Chin up, Fiona. This is only the first step.”

“I told you.” As the coach lurched into movement, Fiona turned to the man she’d married. She was too stricken to cry. “You’ll never break into Bancavan. If you try, it means a death sentence.”

She’d come back to herself enough to notice that he looked determined, not defeated. That impressive jaw was square and stubborn. “The solution is easy to see. We have to get Allan and Christina away from Bancavan.”

“He’s not a fool. He’ll never release her.”

“Whisht, lassie.” She didn’t resist as Diarmid drew her head down to rest on his broad shoulder. “We’ll find a way.”

If only she could believe him. But as they drove away from Trahair House, a premonition of inevitable failure crushed her heart.

Chapter 30

Trahair House lay in an isolated glen twenty miles from Inverness, so it was late by the time Fiona and Diarmid returned to their inn. Not finding Christina at Trahair had been a blow, but Fiona couldn’t give up. Her daughter’s safety and happiness were worth any sacrifice. By the time the carriage rolled into the inn yard, she felt capable of sitting up and facing what came now. She smoothed her hair and straightened her skirts.

In the dim light, Diarmid studied her with a searching gaze. “Better?”

“I haven’t seen Christina in so long.” She made an apologetic gesture. “When Allan wasn’t there lying in wait for us, I’d hoped…”

“That we might get her back. I know.”

“Or that at least I’d get to see her.”