It Happened in the Highlands(38)

He could wait no longer. Wynne moved swiftly to the seat across from her.

Yesterday, Jo agreed to marry him. Last night, overwhelming passion  consumed them. Neither had slept at all. Every time they thought  themselves satisfied and spent, it took only a look, a caress, and they  were young lovers once again.

She looked at him questioningly.

"Which hand?" he asked, holding out two closed fists.

* * *

Jo was satisfied with what they'd discovered about her mother at  Garloch, but she was also disheartened at the lack of prospects for  learning anything else. Wynne read her thoughts. He knew what she was  feeling. And here he was, trying to cheer her up.

"What are you doing, Captain Melfort?" she asked, smiling.

"Which hand?"

"If you intend to distract me, you've already succeeded," she said, looking into his handsome face.

"Don't be a coward, Lady Pennington. Pick one."

Jo traveled back in time to a warm evening in London. To the night they met.

"You're being more formal than the last time, Captain," she drawled,  biting her lip as she studied her options. "The right hand."

As she'd expected, it was empty. When he extended the left hand in her  direction, she saw the right move covertly into the pocket of his coat.  This was preposterous, but suddenly she felt young and playful.

"What are you hiding in there?" she cried out, throwing herself into his arms and trying to dig her own hand into his pocket.

"Lady Jo, your impatience astounds me."

"I'm glad." She laughed.

"And I'm shocked by your forwardness."

"Which delights me even more."

Smiling, he gathered her firmly onto his lap, and she met his gaze,  reveling in the heat and masculinity he exuded. She wanted him. She  wanted to make love to him right now in this carriage. And from what she  felt through the layers of their clothing, he wanted it too.

"After," he said, reading her mind. He laid his right fist on her lap. "Which hand?"

If he had a rosebud in there, she thought, he was truly a magician. Jo  sighed, turned the hand over, and pried open his fingers. There in his  palm, an intricately designed gold band gleamed. She looked at him  perplexed, but for only a moment. Then her heart soared as she slipped  it on.

"I was hoping you'd allow me to put this on your finger when we marry  for the first time at the church in Rayneford. The vicar will be  officiating."

"Marry for the first time?" she asked, mystified. They'd already spoken  of going to Baronsford, having Wynne's family meet the Penningtons, and  then planning their wedding. She reminded him of that now.

He shook his head. "That will be our second wedding. And we could have a  third or fourth as well, if you want," he told her. "After last night,  it became clear to me that there'll be no waiting. No long engagement.  I'm yours as you're mine. In fact, you told me yourself last night that  your younger brother, Gregory, and his wife were wed twice. Do you think  I would have you slighted in any way?"

"You're worrying about my reputation," she said, feeling her love for this man rise ever higher.

He held her gaze. "I love you, Jo. And I'll be dashed if I allow  anything to jeopardize our future together. Malicious talk, gossip, and  lies will never touch us again. We shall forge a bond between us that  the world will look on with awe. But if something were to happen to me  today, before we marry, I want you-"

She put her fingers to Wynne's lips. She'd die if something were to  happen to him. And she understood what he was saying. After what they'd  learned about her mother's life, she shared his resolve about the  future.

"And I love you, Wynne," she whispered. "We'll marry twice, but this is the only ring I'll ever wear."

* * *

The early afternoon sun slanted through the small window, and the older  man's eyes were fixed on the angular ray of light on the dusty oak floor  of the upstairs room in Knockburn Hall.                       
       
           



       

"Everything will work out, Mr. Barton," Cuffe told him reassuringly. "The captain is on his way back."

They were supposed to come last night, he thought. He had no doubt they'd be back today.

He got up and went to a south-facing window. When they first got here,  he'd seen men in the distance searching the fields. But he saw no sign  of them now.

No one was happy to have the Bartons show up at the Abbey unannounced.  Cuffe wondered if the doctor knew his patient was here. Perhaps he even  approved. In any event, the men never came close to the Hall. They never  got the dogs out of the kennels.

The three boys Cuffe approached wouldn't say a word. They were to get a  shilling apiece from him for their part in this. In the stables he told  them he needed their help. Mr. Barton was at the pond with an attendant.  They'd fallen on the man like highwaymen and taken him unawares. With a  satchel thrown over his head, they'd gagged him, bound him, and dragged  him back to the barn while Cuffe led the patient away to Knockburn  Hall.

It had taken them a long while to reach their hiding place. The older  man had grown winded quickly and needed to sit and rest several times.  But he was good about following directions. Cuffe looked across the room  at him now.

"We'll be all right. You'll be safe here," he said. Mr. Barton was  sitting where Cuffe had put him when they arrived, in the niche of  window near the fireplace. "I couldn't let them take you. Not after I  heard them talking. That other asylum, the one in Aberdeen, it's a bad  one. I've seen people in the islands who suffered. Hurt for no reason.  It's not right. Spinning and beatings. Putting you in cold water. The  captain wouldn't have let it happen."

The patient said nothing, and Cuffe wasn't sure if he understood a word  of what was said to him. His eyes remained locked on the rectangle of  light on the floor.

"The captain will be back today," he repeated. "We're safe here. You and  I both. Would you care to take a nap? Make the time pass quicker."

He wished Mr. Barton would sleep a little. He usually did at this time of day, but the man made no move to lie down.

It was odd to carry on a one-sided conversation. He thought about when  he was doing this to the captain. Not answering. Not looking at him.  Acting like he didn't exist, even when the captain was being good to  him. Much like Mr. Barton was doing to him now.

Cuffe thought guiltily how much trouble he'd been to his father. His father.

"You've probably been wondering why no one has found us," he said. "I  come from Jamaica, you know. I'm a Maroon and we live out where no one  can catch us. Not even the soldiers."

He looked out the window again.

"You know the captain. He's Dr. McKendry's partner at the Abbey. The  governor. But before that he commanded warships. He's sailed every  ocean. Fought pirates and slavers and Americans. And the French. He's  smart as they come. He'll know what we should do."

He'd come soon. And he'd know where they were hiding. Cuffe crossed the room and sat against a wall near the older man.

"My father-the captain, I mean-he can fix anything. Everyone depends on  him, even Dr. McKendry. They wouldn't have tried to take you if he were  at the Abbey today. But he'll be here soon. We'll be all right."

Cuffe wished he were here now. His father.

On Thursday they'd ridden together to the village. He liked how the  captain had let him choose a horse as his own. And how he'd gone with  him to bring food for the old widow in the run-down cottage at the end  of the lane. And how the captain came to his room on Friday night and  talked to him about Lady Jo.

The captain . . . his father. And perhaps Lady Jo to make a new family. Maybe it wouldn't be bad to grow up in Scotland.

The touch on his arm startled Cuffe. He turned to see the old man sitting beside him. The eyes were alert, watching him.

"What's wrong, Mr. Barton?"

"Where is Jo?"





Chapter 21


Wynne knew something was wrong before they reached the long drive  leading to the Abbey. Groups of men moved along in lines across the  fields and the golf links, searching every inch, kicking at patches of  gorse and long grass. He could see others by the ponds poking into the  water with their sticks. They were looking for something.                       
       
           



       

"What do you think has happened?" Jo asked.

"I don't know." He paused and motioned toward the carriage and grooms waiting by the door to the annex. "But we have visitors."

There was no point in guessing what was amiss. They'd know soon enough.  But as their own carriage stopped by the door, Dermot dashed out the  building and climbed in before they could step out.