Scotsman Wore Spurs (46 page)

She worked with Drew for several hours on learning a Scottish accent, and her years as an actress served her well. His own accent deepened, and all traces of the western lingo he'd picked up on the trail disappeared.

Once they felt ready, Drew wrote a formal note to Philip Thorpe, saying that he, the Earl of Kinloch, was in America to buy a considerable parcel of land, that he was hopeful of a rapid transaction, and that he'd been informed that Philip Thorpe was just the man to help him. He added that he wanted all dealings confidential at this time. Would Mr. Thorpe be amenable to an immediate meeting in his hotel suite?

A hotel messenger was dispatched with the note.

And then they waited. Ben and Kane O'Brien joined them in their parlor and reviewed details. Neither Drew nor Gabrielle was ever to be left alone. O'Brien and Merrill would follow them wherever they went, and Drew was to make sure the two never lost them. Ben would stay at the hotel until it appeared Thorpe might make his move.

Gabrielle noticed that Drew and O'Brien immediately took a liking to each other, leading Ben to comment wryly that they deserved each other. Rogues, both of them, he said. Merrill was more like Ben—quiet, reserved, watchful.

They reviewed the scheme again. If Thorpe checked, he would discover there really was an Earl of Kinloch in America, and one with a less than savory reputation. Drew had winced slightly at the characterization but then shrugged it off.

Gabrielle had watched his face as he'd made the gesture. So much of him was still a mystery, yet it was plain to her that Lisbeth had been correct—he clearly hated his title. Seeing that, the last vestiges of injury she'd felt at not being told about it evaporated.

She wanted to go to him, touch him, comfort and love him. She wanted to lie in his arms. But she was beginning to think they would never be alone again. Ben in particular had been staying close, and she wasn't sure that it was altogether for their physical safety. He seemed to have taken on the role of big brother—big
protective
brother—to her, and as much as she appreciated his efforts in this intricate venture, she wished he would allow her some privacy with Drew.

“You sure you feel comfortable with that gun?” he asked her.

She nodded. She'd produced her father's Colt, causing shocked male stares. Then she'd had to prove to them all that she knew how to use it. She hadn't missed the look of pride in Drew's gaze when she'd passed the test.

Still, Ben seemed to feel concerned. “You shoot close up,” he said. “That's if you have to shoot at all.”

Sighing inwardly, she didn't argue.

A knock at the door prompted Ben and his friends to conceal themselves in the bedroom. Drew opened the door and accepted a formal-looking envelope from a messenger boy.

“I was told to wait for a reply,” the boy said.

Drew opened the envelope and quickly read its contents. “Tell Mr. Thorpe that tomorrow at ten is quite acceptable.”

The boy nodded and disappeared down the corridor. Drew closed the door and called an all-clear toward the bedroom. The three men emerged.

“Thorpe took the bait, gentlemen,” Drew announced.

Philip Thorpe's face was florid, his body well padded, his tailoring and grooming otherwise impeccable. He obviously ate well, drank well, and lived well. He also had cold eyes even when his face was wreathed in smiles.

Gabrielle hid her revulsion as she watched him, standing in the parlor of their hotel suite, extend a hand to Drew.

“My lord,” he fawned.

Gabrielle glanced sideways at Drew and sensed that, as he shook Thorpe's hand, he was inwardly contemptuous. Yet he handled himself with the amiable condescension she would have expected anyone of his class to display. He would do well as an actor, she thought fleetingly.

“And this is Lady Kinloch,” Drew said, his hand touching the small of her back in a possessive gesture.

“It's a great pleasure, Lady Kinloch,” Thorpe said.

She did not offer her hand, merely raised what she hoped was an aristocratic eyebrow.

Thorpe turned back to Drew. “I understand you're looking for land.”

“Aye,” Drew said with a deep exaggerated brogue. “But I donna want it known. I ha' come into some money recently, but I also owe a few debts, if ye ken my meaning. I know of an Englishman who has made a great success of a ranch out here, in your wilderness. I, too, wish to purchase a ranch and find someone to run it—all verra quietly. My friend said I could triple my investment verra quickly.”

“The land deed has to be filed,” Thorpe said carefully.

“Aye, I thought it would,” Drew said. “My wife's maiden name should do.” He shrugged. “Before long I should ha' found the funds to pay my debts, and all will be well.”

“Why did you come to me?” Thorpe asked cautiously.

“I am told ye own a lot of property here,” Drew said. “And that ye might be selling some of it to raise money to run for … what do ye call it?”

“Governor,” Thorpe said expansively.

“Aye. And I've been assured ye are a shrewd businessman wi' an eye toward opportunity. 'Tis nothing I see illegal aboot this transaction. I just want to stress the need for … discretion.”

“How much money do you have?” Thorpe asked.

Gabrielle could almost see him licking his lips like a cat with cream on its whiskers.

“Nearly two hundred thousand of your American dollars,” Drew said.

Philip Thorpe blinked. “In cash?”

“Aye. I donna believe in banks,” Drew said.

A strangled noise came from Thorpe's throat. “Surely you don't carry it with you?”

Drew shrugged. “I keep a pistol in my carriage,” he said complacently. “I would ha' the money available.”

Gabrielle could almost see Thorpe's brain working. He would have already verified by telegraph that an Earl of Kinloch was indeed in the United States.

“I
do
have some land you might like,” Thorpe said tentatively. “If you would like to see a map …”

Drew nodded.

The man unrolled a map on the desk. “It's three miles out of Austin. Property used to be a cotton plantation. Owner died during the war, and I bought it from the widow. Land's just been sitting there, waiting for the right buyer. Real pretty place. Rolling hills. Good stream for water. Of course, I have had other inquiries. In fact, just yesterday …” His voice trailed off.

Drew turned to Gabrielle.

She shuddered delicately. “Wha' aboot Indians?”

“They're long gone from this area, Lady Kinloch,” Thorpe assured her. “And you wouldn't find a prettier piece of land in Scotland.”

“I want t' go back to Scotland,” she said plaintively to her “husband.”

Drew's voice grew firm. “Ye know that is not possible. The law—” He stopped suddenly, as if belatedly remembering Thorpe's presence. “How soon can we be aboot closing the transaction, Mr. Thorpe, if the property pleases us?”

Thorpe's eyes were greedy now. Very, very greedy, Gabrielle noted with satisfaction.

“Surely you have a friend, an acquaintance, a lawyer who would like to advise you?” Thorpe probed.

“Do I look like a man who requires someone else's opinion?” Drew said disdainfully. “A … provincial's opinion, at that?” He turned to his “wife.” “'Twill only be a few months, my dear. Things will be sorted out.”

“The disgrace, the shame,” Gabrielle said, wilting against Drew's shoulder. “My family canna hold their heads up again because ye—”

“Mr. Thorpe is not interested in all that, my dear, not interested at all. When we show a profit, show them all what we've accomplished …”

Gabrielle sighed loudly.

“You will like the property, Lady Kinloch,” Philip Thorpe said hastily. “And there's a lovely little house.”

“Little?” she said in a horrified tone.

“I think we'd best be seeing the property,” Drew interjected. “As soon as possible.”

Thorpe nodded. “I can meet you out there tomorrow,” he said. “I'll give you directions. If you think you're interested, I can bring the papers with me. There
is
another buyer coming to see it.”

Drew's eyebrows rose in mock alarm. “I'll bring the money with me. We can be after signing the papers there, if all is satisfactory.”

Thorpe sat at the desk and sketched them a map. Then he looked up at them. “Noon tomorrow?”

“Aye,” Drew said with satisfaction.

“It's a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Kinloch.”

“Indeed,” Drew said with more than a hint of condescension.

Resentment flared briefly in Thorpe's eyes but was quickly replaced with an expression of geniality. “If you settle in Texas, I would welcome your vote for me as governor,” he said.

“Ah, yes,” Drew said noncommittally. “Elections,” he said with a sneer. “You Yanks do have strange customs.”

Thorpe's face reddened. But he managed a “Good day,” before taking his leave.

Gabrielle stood beside Drew, holding her breath, until the sound of footsteps in the hall had disappeared. Then they looked at each other—and burst into laughter.

“If two hundred thousand dollars doesn't appeal to his avarice, nothing will,” Jud Merrill said as he stared at Thorpe's map.

“He'd been trying to be respectable,” Kane O'Brien argued. “He'll be a fool to risk everything now.”

“Ah, but a greedy man can't resist a sure thing,” Ben said. “Kinloch has no friends. He has cash. And the law's apparently looking for him. What better mark?”

Drew glanced at him. “Have you always been this devious?”

“Yes,” Kane said. “I'll tell you about it someday.”

Drew looked at his brother-in-law. “Does my sister know this side of you?”

Gabrielle smiled at the bantering between the two men. Though they often resembled a pair of bulldogs challenging each other, she sensed the affection that underlay their competition.

“Ask her yourself,” Ben quipped.

“I believe I shall,” Drew shot back.

The men returned their attention to Thorpe's map—Ben, O'Brien, and Merrill comparing it with their knowledge of Austin and its environs.

“He won't risk a shooting on his own property,” O'Brien ventured.

“I agree,” Ben said. “It will be on a public road someplace. An ordinary robbery of two careless foreigners nobody cares about.”

“Here,” Merrill said, pointing to a spot on the map. “This road forks off the main one toward Thorpe's property. I know it. There's hills on both sides. It's an ideal spot for an ambush.”

Kane agreed.

“And Thorpe believes you have only a single pistol,” Ben said, smiling a little as he added, “If we're lucky, he even thinks it's probably some ancient family relic, taken off the walls of your family castle.”

“It's a big risk for Thorpe to take alone,” Merrill cautioned.

“But I don't think he'll chance hiring anyone this close to home. And with Killian gone, he'd have to find another gunslinger, and he hasn't got time for that. Unless, of course, he's got one stashed away we don't know about.”

“A lot of ifs,” Kane said.

“Yes,” Drew agreed. “But, gentlemen, if I might point out, this plan is all we've got.”

The men looked at Drew, and Gabrielle could see that although they didn't like it, they all knew that he was right. They'd done all the planning they could do. Nature—human nature—would now have to take its course.

Drew had chosen the rented buggy carefully. Enclosed on three sides, the vehicle seemed ambush proof. A fringe at the front would further hinder any clear view—or shot. A shooter would have to come out into the open and face them head on. And yet it was exactly the kind of fancy buggy Lord and Lady Kinloch would select.

He drove it to an alley behind the hotel, where Kane O'Brien joined him and Gabrielle, who was sitting tensely beside him. O'Brien crouched in the back with two rifles and a handgun. Drew also had a handgun tucked in his boot, and Gabrielle's Colt was under the front seat.

Ben had ridden ahead to the first possible ambush site. Merrill had stationed himself at Philip Thorpe's home just after midnight and planned to follow the man when he ventured out. They had plotted every move carefully, precisely timing when the buggy would reach each point on the map. That way, in the event Merrill lost Thorpe, he could catch up with them readily enough.

Drew was beginning to understand why Ben had been such a good marshal. He left nothing to chance, which, Drew realized with some amusement would also have made him a good criminal.

As they rode out of town, Gabrielle was quiet, her eyes intent on every rock, every hill they passed. So much depended on Thorpe doing what they wanted him to do, risking everything he'd built for one large prize. Would he be content with selling a large piece of land at a good price, or would he want everything? Would he risk seeing the sale fall through? Would he wait and inspect the bundle of money they carried, real bills on top, plain paper on the bottom? If he did, Drew would suddenly change his mind about the property, or Gabrielle would faint, whichever seemed more effective at the time.

He felt Gabrielle's hand sneak over to rest on his thigh, and he flashed her what he hoped was a reassuring grin. As her hand remained in place, he had to shove aside the arousal it produced in him. This was no time to get distracted. Yet it was difficult. They'd had no private time together since being reunited. Ben had stayed in their suite as protection, and they could not very well have retired to the one bed in his presence. He himself had ended up sleeping on a sofa in the parlor, with Ben spreading a bedroll on the floor.

Seeking a distraction from the distraction, Drew began to whistle a few tunes as he drove the carriage. When he came to the end of the song, O'Brien's muffled voice came from behind him.