Quarterback's Secret Baby(126)

"Yes!" I was so relieved to hear her asking for breakfast. "Yes, let's get Mrs. Clyde to make you some oatmeal. We can even put honey on it if you want."

But when I got down to the kitchen Mrs. Clyde was still absent. I walked back out into the foyer and saw Mr. Clyde coming down the main stairs. He was carrying my bags. A little finger of worry ran up my spine.

"Mr. Clyde - what's going on?" I asked, confused. He wouldn't meet my eyes, he just put my bags down in front of me and retreated, mumbling something I couldn't make out. I didn't have time to follow him and question him further because there was a sudden loud series of knocks on the big wooden doors behind me, making me jump slightly. Since no one else was around, I opened them myself. Two stern-faced police officers stood in front of me.

"Jennifer Robinson?"





Chapter 12


"Yes...?" I replied, still clueless about what was happening but starting to feel strongly that it wasn't good.

"Perhaps you should send the bairn to her room."

There was a seriousness to the officer's tone that made it clear he wasn't making a request. I tried to put Cameron down but she knew very well that something was up and refused to let go of me.

"Cameron," I tried to reason with her, "why don't you wait for me in your room? I'll come get you in a few minutes and we'll find Mrs. Clyde to get you some breakfast."

"I'll take her."

It was Mr. Clyde - he'd come back and he was trying to take Cameron out of my arms. She refused to let go and the foyer was soon filled with the sound of her wailing my name. When Mr. Clyde finally succeeded in peeling her off me I kept the tears suppressed until she was out of sight - whatever was going on, I had the sudden awful feeling that I wasn't going to see her again.

"Jennifer Robinson, we're here to escort you to the train station."

"What exactly is going on here?!" I demanded as the sinking feeling in my belly intensified.

"If you'll just come with us."

The other officer, the one who wasn't doing the talking, stepped towards me and took me by the arm, pulling me outside. The first one picked up my bags.

"What?" I wrenched my arm free of the policeman's grip. "Just tell me what's happening! Don't touch me!"

"You're lucky the Laird isn't pressing charges, young lady. We're taking you to the train station. If you come back, you'll be arrested. Or we can arrest you right now if you want to cause trouble."

Briefly, it crossed my mind that this was a very badly conceived practical joke. I hadn't done anything. The officers didn't look like they were joking, though, not at all. In fact they looked so serious I actually wondered if maybe I had done something.

"Just. OK, I'll go." I said, allowing myself to be walked to the small police car parked halfway up the driveway. "Just tell me what I did. Tell me why you're doing this."

One of the officers actually smirked at my question, as if there was no doubt in his mind.

"Young lady, you know very well what you've done. The Laird took you into his home - he trusted you with his daughter. And you repay him by stealing."

Stealing? It was at that moment that it dawned on me. This had to be Diane's doing. She obviously wasn't happy about my presence at Castle McLanald or in her daughter's life.

"I haven't stolen anything, sir," I said icily as they opened the back door of the car and gestured for me to get inside.

"Of course you haven't. That's why the maids found a number of watches and some jewelry in your room, all packaged up and ready to be sent home, is it? That's why your phone is full of e-mails to your boyfriend telling him exactly what you've stolen so far?"

My boyfriend? Emails on my phone? I didn't have a boyfriend - at least not one back home and, it appeared, not in Scotland either. Robotically, I reached down and took my phone out so I could check it for these "e-mails" the police officer was telling me they found.

"Wait. You - when did you look at my phone?"

The smirking officer reached out and snatched it out of my hand before I could get into my e-mail.

"We'll be needing that. In case you decide to cause more trouble for the Laird and his family."

I was too stunned to think as the police car pulled out into the road and started driving towards the train station. I didn't even cry, I just sat on the strange plastic-covered seat and stared straight ahead. Surely - surely - this was a misunderstanding of some kind.

It apparently wasn't a misunderstanding, though. The police stayed with me on the platform, earning me a few hostile stares from passersby, and they made sure I got onto the train, waiting until it actually started to move before they left.

The train journey was hours long and my sense of shock soon began to dissipate into painful, searing betrayal. The police mentioned the Laird repeatedly. He had to have known. He had to have known what I was being accused of. Why hadn't he given me a chance to defend myself? Why hadn't he considered the possibility that the one woman he knew was dedicated to poisoning both his life and his daughter's may have had something to do with it? The tears that ran down my cheeks as the train pulled into King's Cross station in London were hot and angry. Darach knew how close I was to Cameron. How could he let Mr. Clyde rip her out of my arms like that without even a good-bye?