Kresley Cole - [MacCarrick Brothers 02] (9 page)

“Those girls are eighteen, nineteen. They have time to wait for another match.” She lifted her hand from his arm and gripped her forehead. “I’m too old to wait! And you know my chances with Freddie would be ruined by this.”

“If you still want him after all of this is over, then I would use all my influence to see it done.”

She sank into a chair. “And why on earth would Freddie still want me?”

“He’s waited this long.”

She bit her lip at that, then said, “I still don’t understand why Hugh has agreed to this. How can you make him take a wife he doesn’t want?”

“Are you so sure he doesn’t?”

“Of course he doesn’t!”

“I believe he cared deeply for you when you were both younger. Don’t you think he acted as if he did?”

“If he cared for me so much, then why would he leave without a word?” Looking back now, it was difficult to see him as anything other than a typical male, enjoying the attention she lavished on him.

“You know he told me to tell you good-bye. If you asked about him.”

“If?
” She gave her father the same expression she’d given him when he’d last voiced this nonsense. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s had a life of his own, and we hardly know each other anymore.”

“Yes, he has had a life of his own, and in that time he’s earned enough money to take care of you. I know that you two used to get along. Can’t you charm him? Cajole him and win him over? It should be easy enough for you. Maybe you might
try
staying married?”

“Why would I ever choose Hugh over Freddie?”

“Because you never loved Freddie.”

No, she didn’t, but she cared for him, and they had fun together. And since she hadn’t loved him, she’d known Freddie had no power to wound her. “Perhaps that’s so—but Freddie’s never hurt me.”

“You don’t believe Hugh purposely hurt you? I think you’re forgetting all the times he took you riding, or the hours he spent helping you with your archery. He was patient with you, when I could scarcely be.”

When she said nothing, recalling scenes from her childhood, her father said, “In the weeks to come, I want you to remember one thing. Remember that Hugh
tries
. He’s going to try to make you happy.”

“You’re assuming I’m going to agree to this.”

“Just think, Jane, he’ll likely take you out of England.”

“Where? Far?” she quickly asked, then flushed at her father’s knowing expression. Transparent Jane, eager to travel. “To Carrickliffe?”

“Yes, possibly among his clan. It’s up to him. But I do know that he’ll go north. And that he won’t travel more than a day’s ride from a telegraph. I’ll be able to contact you the minute you can return home. If at that time you still want an annulment, it will be done.”

Self-preservation, Janey. What if you get attached to him again?

When she was still shaking her head, he said, “Jane, this is not up for debate. You will leave London, and you’ll do it this morning.”

She’d concluded that she didn’t recognize her father, but just when she determined that she didn’t care for this new stranger, his face and tone softened. “Ah, daughter, you’re so brave about everything, and yet you’re terrified of this, aren’t you?”

“Well, if I am, it’s because Grey looked at me in such a disquieting—”

“Not about Grey. You’re afraid of getting hurt again.”

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t deny her apprehension. “Hugh left me once and never came back. And I know you invited him again and again.”

“But, Jane, he came back when it counted.”

Eleven

N
ever! Never on your life….

With Jane’s words running through his mind, Hugh rode for Grosvenor Square in a daze. There’d been too many developments this morning for him to digest. Simply seeing her kissing another man had nearly been his undoing.

And then, after so many years of fighting to stay away from Jane, to be forced to be with her—no, to marry her. He was shocked at how badly part of him wanted Weyland to succeed in persuading her.

Even as Hugh knew he couldn’t keep her.

Did I truly just see Jane kissing another man?

When he arrived at the square, Hugh strode inside the MacCarrick family’s mansion. They all called this place “the family’s,” though in truth it now belonged to Ethan. As the oldest son, Ethan had inherited all of the MacCarrick properties, as well as the Scottish earldom of Kavanagh—though he would likely pummel anyone who dared remind him he was a peer.

In the entry hall, Hugh ignored, as usual, his mother’s messages to him, lying in the silver tray. He couldn’t say he hated the woman, but she’d blamed her sons for their father’s death, and that made it damned difficult to want anything to do with her. His brothers felt the same. All her messages to them were unopened as well.

Ethan hadn’t banned her from the property, yet. By tacit agreement, she never stayed here when any of her sons were in London, though Hugh would bet she was still bribing the servants for information about them—everyone but Erskine, their butler. The dour-faced man was committed to his job of discouraging any and all visitors, and loyal down to his bones.

Hugh strode directly to the study, his boots drumming across the marble floor. He knew precisely where the
Leabhar nan Sùil-radharc,
the Book of Fates, would be—still laid out on the long mahogany desk, where Hugh had found Courtland, staring at it almost pleadingly just weeks ago.

As always, Hugh was amazed that such an ancient book could be preserved so well after countless years had passed. Of course, the only marking it had ever accepted was blood.

Long ago, a clan seer had predicted the fates of ten generations of MacCarricks and inscribed them in the
Leabhar
. The lines within foretold tragedies and triumphs that had all come to pass.

Although Hugh had long since memorized it, he turned to the last page, written to his father…

To the tenth Carrick:

Your lady fair shall bear you three dark sons.

Joy they bring you until they read this tome.

Words before their eyes cut your life’s line young.

You die dread knowing cursed men they become, shadowed to walk with death or walk alone.

Not to marry, know love, or bind, their fate;

Your line to die for never seed shall take.

Death and torment to those caught in their wake…

The last two lines were obscured by dried blood that could not be lifted from the page.

Tragedies and triumphs revealed? Hugh exhaled wearily. No triumphs were revealed to the brothers. No, they had sired no bairns among them, had killed their father by reading this very book, and continued to hurt everything they cared for.

Running his forefinger down the prediction on the crisp parchment, he felt his skin grow cold and clammy. There was something innate there, some palpable power in the
Leabhar
. The last person from outside the family who’d touched it had stared at it in horror and crossed himself.

Hugh turned away in disgust, then made his way to his bedroom. He forced himself to pack, though he wasn’t convinced that Weyland could in fact move Jane to this measure, short of blackmail—

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Ethan barked from the doorway. He glared at Hugh, who was dragging clothing from his wardrobe to a leather travel bag.

“Leaving London.”

“With
her
?”

“Aye. Weyland’s asked me to…wed her and take her away.” His tone was defensive.

“No’ again!” Ethan’s scar was whitening. “We just got Courtland’s woman away from him. Now you’re running off with yours?”

“And what of you?” Hugh countered, snatching up shirts. “I think you showed more interest in that girl last night than I’ve ever seen you show another woman.”

“Ah, but I merely played with my wee blonde.” He rubbed his scar unconsciously. Did he hate it anew after last night? Or had the chit slapped his face? Hugh hoped the latter. “But you and Court are always wanting more.”

“I’ve agreed to wed Jane—
temporarily
. And only to take her away until you capture Grey and the havoc caused by the list dies down. I’ve made it clear to Weyland that this marriage will be annulled at that time, and he understood.”

Ethan was shaking his head. “You’re no’ thinking clearly. You took one look at her after all that time away and bloody lost your mind. And the clan calls you the reasonable one?”

“I
am
reasonable,” he grated, punching shirts into his bag so hard that the stitches in the leather strained.

“Running off with the woman you’ve been lost for, to
marry
her? Temporarily? Aye, the example of reason you are,” Ethan sneered. “My God, you lectured Court about this verra thing. Rightly so.”

Hugh glanced away. He’d been
smug
when he’d lectured Court, smug that he’d had the discipline to stay away from Jane all these years.

“Hugh, how can you ignore what’s happened? Court made up his mind to marry Annalía, and within days, a bullet almost splattered her brain across our front doorstep. And then me. Have you forgotten my fiancée? It was
you
who found Sarah’s broken body. Would you expose Jane to a fate like that?”

Christ, no. Never.
“I will no’ consummate the marriage. I will no’
keep
her,” he said in a low tone. “It will no’ be a marriage in truth. Besides, I’ve
already
jeopardized her. Grey will seize on her because of me. I know this. Grey will definitely kill her without me to protect her. I
might
hurt her.”

“Even ill in the head, Grey will be deadly. As much as I hate to say it, he has unmatchable instincts.” Ethan caught his gaze. “Why do you no’ let me take Jane away?”

The thought made Hugh’s blood boil. “Grey will never harm her while I live. Mark me, Ethan. Never.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Then you’d better hope I get to him before he gets to her. You think to protect her when you’re no’ cold about this? Certainly no’ cold like Grey is. You’re going to get both yourself and the girl killed.”

“Damn it, I can take care of her—”

“
And
keep your hands off her at the same time?” Ethan gave him an incredulous expression.

“I have discipline. You ken that I do.” Hugh strode to his wardrobe for a few essentials—a pistol as backup to the one he always wore holstered, and another rifle, second to the one he kept in his saddle holster. He also packed a good deal of ammunition for all of the weapons. “And I’ve stayed away this long, have I no’?”

“I also know you’ve got years of want stored up. You might seem calm on the outside, but I’ll bet inside you’re seething with it.”

Seething. The perfect word for how he felt. “Does no’ matter. She hates me.”
Especially after this morning.
“Hell, she’ll probably balk.” Though he wondered. Weyland always got what he wanted. But then, so did Jane. Surely Weyland couldn’t want him as a son-in-law as much as Jane wanted to have nothing to do with him. “I will no’ keep her,” he insisted again. “And she will no’ want me.”

Ethan studied him for long moments. Then he exhaled a resigned breath. “Aye, then. That, I can accept. Even if the old man forces her to wed, the chit will want out at the first opportunity.”

Hugh scowled at Ethan’s tone. As if he were reciting a fact.

“Is it so bloody inconceivable that she might want me as I want her?”

Ethan simply said, “Aye.”

Hugh snatched up his bag, then exited the room to stomp down the stairs.

“Where’re you taking her?” Ethan asked, following. “No’ to the clan?”

Hugh shook his head. He’d considered taking her to Carrickliffe, but the people there all knew about the curse. At best, they would be wary around Jane, superstitious and treating her as though she were doomed. At worst, they would try to spirit her away from Hugh, seeking to save them both. He would only go there if there was no other alternative. “I’m taking her north to Ros Creag.”

“Does Grey know about the lake house?”

“I never told him about it, but I canna be certain whether he does,” Hugh answered. “If he hasn’t reached England and I only keep us there for a few days—”

“I’m fast, but I’m no’ that fast.”

As Hugh reached the front door, he said, “Any suggestions among your various hideaways?”

“Grey knows of several, and I canna swear by the rest. You should take her to Court’s.”

Hugh slowed. He hadn’t thought of Court’s property, probably because his brother had owned it for so short a time.

“Court said the keep was old, but it’s solid and only needs a bit of work,” Ethan said.

He’d told Hugh the same, and that it was in the middle of
thousands
of acres. “I’ll go to Ros Creag, and if I haven’t heard anything from you in five days, we’ll journey north to Court’s.”

“Good. I’ll alert the staff to your arrival,” Ethan said, referring to the skeleton staff that lived just off the property.

“If Grey follows us, I hope to God you’ll be following him.” Hugh skewered his brother with a look. “Much is in your hands, and you canna afford to get distracted. The sooner you kill Grey, the sooner this marriage is annulled.”

“Then doona get settled in,” Ethan said with a chilling smile. “And best take care with the marks on your face. You doona want them to scar.”

“Go to hell,” Hugh bit out, opening the door.

Ethan cursed under his breath, then said, “Wait a minute.” He strode off, returning with the
Leabhar
, and offered it to Hugh. “Take it. It will remind you as nothing else can.”

Hugh accepted the weighty book. “And what about you? What if you need it?”

Ethan’s face was perfectly cold. “I’ve no heart to be tempted, remember?”

Hugh narrowed his eyes. “What did you do to the girl last night?”

He smirked, reaching up to rest his hand on top of the door. “Nothing she dinna want me to.”