“What? Why did they bring him here? Who is he?” She stepped deeper into the room, and the man stirred at the sound of her voice.
“They brought him here at your father’s direction.”
Lydia shuddered with sudden horror. “Papa did this?”
A rumbling growl came from the bed. “Let me go, foul wench!”
“Heavens! He’s awake.” Lydia rushed inside. “Annis, bring me a candle!” She stopped at the bedside. Annis handed her a candle, and she lifted it to the man’s face.
“Mr. Kincade!” she almost screamed in shock.
He moved, but it was sluggish, and she soon realized why as she moved the candle over his body. His hands and feet were bound by rope to the bedposts, trapping him with his legs and arms spread wide to each of the four posts of the bed.
“Christ!” She turned to Annis. “Fetch me a sharp knife, quick!” Horror and shame at what had befallen the man under her roof nearly robbed her of her breath.
The butler left, and Lydia leaned close to the Scotsman, hoping he could more easily see her face.
“What happened, Mr. Kincade?” she asked him.
“What happened? You ken very well what happened, lass. You willna take me to the altar. I’ll die first.”
“Altar?” Suddenly it all made sense. A pit of dread formed in her stomach, so deep that it felt bottomless. Lydia had never imagined that Portia or her father would resort to this.
“I’ll set you free at once,” she promised. “Try to rest.” She touched his face, and for a moment he leaned into the caress, but then his wild eyes flashed with rage, and he jerked his face away and groaned in pain.
The second Annis returned, Lydia carefully began to cut the ropes, but it seemed to take ages.
“Annis, have the coach brought round. I’ll take him to the doctor. He seems quite ill.”
The butler’s face was pale. “I believe it is the laudanum, miss. He’s been dosed heavily.”
“What? By whom?”
“First by the men who brought him here, then again either by your sister or your father. Otherwise, he would have come out of it by now.”
Lydia looked at Mr. Kincade, feeling helpless and ashamed at her family’s treatment of him, but he was asleep again, his breathing soft and his eyes closed. She worked even more frantically to cut him loose until the last bit of rope frayed and broke. She gave his shoulder a gentle shake, hoping it would rouse him.
“Mr. Kincade, please try to stand. You are free. I wish to take you to the doctor at once.”
He opened weary, bloodshot eyes and struggled to sit up. He kept his head in his palms, drawing in deep breaths. “I’m free?” he whispered hoarsely.
“Yes, but I believe you should see a doctor.” Lydia set the knife down on the table by the bed as she sat beside him and pressed the back of one hand to his forehead.
“So gentle now,” he murmured. “Such a sweet touch . . .” He struggled for words. “But it doesna matter. It won’t change anything.”
In one swift motion, he swiped the knife from the bedside table and pointed it at her heart while he gripped her throat with his other hand. Barely able to do more than gasp, Lydia held still as the tip of the blade pricked her through her silk gown.
“You had me kidnapped, and now I shall do the same.” He stood from the bed on shaky legs but seemed in command of his body enough that he could spin her around and hold her captive against his chest. They stepped into the hall, and the knife now hovered at her throat as he held her in front of him like a shield.
Annis gasped at them from his position at the top of the stairs. “Miss Hunt!”
“You! Fetch her some clothes. I willna travel with a lass who looks unkempt,” Mr. Kincade barked harshly.
“But” Annis began.
“Please, Annis,” Lydia begged. The blade was resting against her skin. She feared that if she drew too deep a breath it would sink into her throat.
“Yes, miss.” The butler fled to do her bidding, and Brodie led her down the stairs, but it was slow progress given that he relied heavily on her for support.
“Please, Mr. Kincade, let me go.”
“After all you’ve done? No, I’ll not fall for any more acts of false sweetness. You’re as venomous and cunning as a viper, and I will have my revenge for it.”
“But I didn’t”
“Silence.” Brodie’s tone brooked no argument.
Lydia closed her mouth as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Annis held the small trunk and her valise, the ones Portia had packed for her supposed trip to London.
“You may tell Mr. Hunt that I have his daughter as my guest. And in exchange for his hospitality, I will send her back when I’m good and done with her.”
Annis looked like he wanted to intervene, but the butler was no match for the angry Scotsman. She shook her head, and Annis kept his distance as he carried the two pieces of luggage down the stairs to the waiting coach.
“Get inside.” Brodie smiled at Lydia as the driver rushed to open the door. Lydia stumbled into the waiting darkness of her family’s coach, all too aware of the blade still held at her back.
5
Lydia collapsed into the seat opposite Brodie Kincade as he closed the coach door, and her heart raced as she tried not to panic. It felt as though her whole world was spinning. Her sister and father had done a terrible, wicked thing, and yet she had been the one abducted trying to undo their actions.
She jumped and gasped as the other door opened and Rafe Lennox ducked inside.
Brodie at first pointed his knife at the man, then stared, momentarily stunned. “Rafe?”
“Hello, old chap, thought you might need a hand with . . .” Rafe’s words trailed away as he caught sight of Lydia. He grinned as the coach started to move. “Well, hello there.”
Lydia shrank back as far away from the two men as she could get.
“I say, what’s that sweet kitten doing here?” Rafe asked Brodie.
“Sweet? No, no, no. She’s a viper, a clever one. She told her father that I compromised her and got her with child. The damned man kidnapped me. He thinks he can force me into marriage.”
“Oh! But that wasn’t me!” Lydia said quickly. “You mean my sister, Portia.”
“Lies. You have no sister.”
Brodie still held the knife, and Lydia couldn’t keep her eyes off it. Rafe seemed to take pity on her.
“Right, well . . . I don’t think the kitten here has claws enough to hurt you, man. So why not put the knife down? You’re not in your right head.”
A wild, feral look in Brodie’s eyes warned them both that he was not yet ready to be reasonable.
“She drugged me, offered me water, but then she . . .” Brodie shook his head, as though trying to rid himself of the memory.
Lydia covered her mouth with a hand, unable to speak. Portia had drugged him? Her sister and father had done unspeakable harm to this man. As soon as he calmed down, she would have a rational discussion and explain to him that she’d had no part in any of this nonsense.
“Hand me that ribbon, kitten. The one in your hair.” Rafe held out his hand to Lydia, who removed the ribbon and handed it to him. Rafe took a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and turned to Brodie, holding up the two items.