Kidnapped: His Innocent Mistress Read online

  My thoughts dipped and swooped with the movement of the boat. My head ached horribly and my face felt stiff. My arms were bound behind me in a most unnatural and uncomfortable posture, and my ankles were tied so tight the ropes bit into my skin. In short, it was not pleasant, and the easiest thing to do was ignore it and slip away back into unconsciousness.

  ‘I don’t want to talk,’ I said, and even those words felt like an inordinate effort. ‘I’m tired. I don’t like it here and I want to sleep.’ I think I sounded cross and childish. At any rate, Neil laughed.

  ‘I daresay you do,’ he said. ‘But if you go to sleep now they may come for you and you may never waken again.’ His tone hardened. There was something in it that I had never heard before. I had thought him a scoundrel, a man of straw, but now he sounded tough and uncompromising.

  ‘Your uncle hit you, Catriona,’ he said. ‘He knocked you unconscious and then he paid for you to be kidnapped and put aboard this ship. He planned it all along. It was the only reason he brought you and Ellen to Gairloch today. He wanted to be rid of you. Now, are you simply going to go to sleep and let him get away with that?’

  His words were like a dousing of cold seawater. Suddenly I remembered everything. Fury washed through me so hot and fierce that it is a wonder I did not combust spontaneously there and then and burn the ship down. You may already have noticed that I have a fine temper, and this time I was enraged. So this was my uncle’s doing. Cunning, deceitful Uncle Ebeneezer, plotting to be rid of his brother’s child! He had tricked me and injured me and paid to be rid of me, and I was damned if I was going to roll over and simply let it happen.

  ‘You are right, Mr Sinclair,’ I said, sounding a deal calmer than I felt inside. ‘I suspected that he did not like me, but this is going too far.’

  Neil laughed again, and this time there was relief in it. ‘I knew that would get through to you,’ he said. ‘I knew all I had to do was make you angry.’

  ‘You have quite a talent for it,’ I said, and despite everything I smiled, too. The fury had cleared my head quickly, burning away all confusion. I held on to it because it was the only thing that warded off my despair. My uncle had deliberately, callously brought me to this. I was cold, I was damp, I was in pain, and I was desperately hungry, and I doubted that any of those factors would change in the near future. In fact it seemed to me that the prospects of a decent supper were fairly bleak.

  ‘So,’ I said, ‘what ship is this? Where are we going? And what is your connection to all this, Mr Sinclair?’

  ‘How like a woman to start at the wrong end,’ Neil Sinclair said. ‘I will ask the questions, if you please. Why did your uncle see fit to get rid of you like this?’

  I did not know the answer to this for sure, of course, but I remembered the bible, with its family tree defaced and torn to erase the record of my father’s generation, and the expression in Uncle Ebeneezer’s eyes when he saw me standing there looking at it. Suddenly a great many things made sense. Uncle Ebeneezer had not liked me, nor wanted me at Glen Clair, but it was unlikely that that alone would have been sufficient to make him take such pains to get rid of me. No, there had to be a greater reason for his hostility. I remembered his words then, too late.

  ‘Glen Clair should have been yours, Davie’s child…but you are only a girl. ’Tis better I keep it myself.’

  And then again, that very day, before he had struck me down. ‘I said I’d break you, girl. And so I shall, before you take back all that should have been mine.’

  ‘I am not perfectly certain,’ I said slowly, ‘but I think it is because I must be the rightful owner of Glen Clair. I think my father was the elder son, and that I should inherit the property after him. Uncle Ebeneezer told me as much, in a roundabout way.’

  Neil gave a low whistle. ‘Men have died for less.’

  ‘And women too,’ I said tartly. ‘Even for a small, neglected parcel of land in the middle of nowhere.’

  ‘Glen Clair could turn a tidy profit if it was properly run,’ Neil said. He shifted again, and I had the fleeting impression that he was in some pain. ‘It is no mean inheritance, and I do not suppose your uncle wished to give it up. Did you challenge him about your suspicions?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘for I had not realised that he might have swindled me.’ My head ached all the more as I thought about it. ‘I cannot be sure of it, and I do not understand how it might have happened, but I imagine that Mr Campbell must know the truth. He is my godfather and my father’s oldest friend. Oh, if only he had told me!’

  ‘Mr Campbell is a good man,’ Neil said, ‘but he is also unworldly and thinks the best of everyone. Perhaps he thought that it was your uncle’s place to tell you of your inheritance, or perhaps your papa requested him to keep silent. We shall not know unless you get the chance to ask him—’

  ‘Which is looking increasingly unlikely at the moment,’ I finished.

  It was very odd, talking to Neil like this. I could not see him except as a darker shadow against the blackness that pressed all around us. He was not touching me, and I was not even sure how near to me he lay, though from the sound of his voice it was a matter of no more than a few feet. I could see nothing, yet I could feel his presence. It felt strong and comforting. It was warm and reassuring to have him there. He made me feel safe and protected, there in the intimate dark.

  This was strange, for I also knew without asking that Neil was probably in as great a state of discomfort as I was, if not worse, for although he had made no mention of it there was an underlying strain in his voice that constantly suggested pain. It is difficult to explain, but it felt as though he was obliged to think past some barrier in order to concentrate on talking to me. It felt as though he was only conquering his pain through sheer force of will. I wondered if he, too, had been knocked unconscious and brutally manhandled into this prison. I wondered if he would tell me.

  ‘What about you?’ I said, trying to keep my tone light. ‘I think it only fair that you should tell me what happened to you now that I have told you why I am here.’

  He sighed. ‘I got into a fight,’ he said, ‘and I was on the losing side.’

  ‘I hope it was not over Miss McIntosh,’ I said, ‘for I suspect she would not be worth it.’

  He gave a snort of laughter. ‘Unlike you, Catriona,’ he said softly. ‘You are well worth fighting for.’

  That stole my breath for a moment—until I told myself that I was sitting bound and helpless, a prisoner in the hold of a ship, and there were far more pressing matters to concern myself with than a flirtation with Neil Sinclair. Even so, there was some sweetness in pretending otherwise.

  ‘I do not believe I gave you permission to address me by my first name, sir,’ I said.

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to let it go on this occasion,’ Neil said, ‘as there are more important matters to discuss.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘So you were in a fight. Were you hurt?’

  He was silent for a long time. ‘No,’ he said, at last. ‘Not much.’

  ‘Liar,’ I said. ‘If I could see you…’

  He laughed. ‘Ah, well, if you could see me you would realise that I am not perhaps looking my immaculate best. But the damage is only superficial.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ I said baldly. ‘But I know you won’t tell me the truth. Tell me instead who the fight was with.’

  The smile was still in his voice. ‘Your uncle.’

  ‘He’s a busy man,’ I said.

  ‘Plus three or four others.’

  ‘You are only saying that so that I do not think you too easily overpowered,’ I said.

  ‘Perhaps I am. Yes, there were ten of them…’

  ‘And the reason? It was not because of me, was it? Did you see what Uncle Ebeneezer had done to me—?’

  ‘And you think that I am conceited!’ He sounded amused. ‘Do you think I would trouble to disturb the set of my coat over you, Miss Balfour?’

  ‘You have just told me that
I am worth fighting for,’ I said. ‘Now you are changing your tune.’

  ‘Well, in principle you are correct,’ Neil said. His voice changed, became brisk. ‘You are worth fighting for. But on this occasion I was attacked by your uncle and his cronies because I had upset them in a business arrangement.’ He stopped.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me the whole tale?’ I said crossly. ‘Instead of me having to wheedle it out of you with endless questions. It is not as though we lack the time.’

  ‘True,’ Neil said. He sounded rueful. ‘The only reason I hesitated was because…’ He stopped again.

  ‘Because you do not trust me,’ I said. ‘Or perhaps—’ I was hit by sudden inspiration ‘—it reflects badly on you and you fear my poor opinion?’

  ‘You have always had a poor opinion of me,’ Neil said, still sounding rueful.

  ‘Well, first you propositioned me to be your mistress,’ I pointed out helpfully, ‘and then I discovered you to be a whisky smuggler. I only base my opinion on experience.’

  ‘Quite,’ Neil said. He sighed. ‘Well, it may do my cause some good with you if I tell you that your uncle and his henchmen beat me up because they discovered that I was no true smuggler. They found out that I was working for the excise.’

  ‘You were an excise man pretending to be a smuggler?’ I said. ‘No wonder they were angry!’

  ‘They always had their suspicions of me,’ Neil said. ‘After all, I was an officer in the Navy. But corrupt officers are nothing new, and I was also a Sinclair and a Highlander, so…’ I sensed a shrug in his words.

  ‘So they trusted you and then found you to be false,’ I said. ‘I can imagine how that would be. How did they find out?’

  ‘I am not sure,’ Neil said, ‘though I think it was that tailor’s dummy Arlo Graham. I suspect that he genuinely was in the pay of the smugglers, and laid information with them that I was secretly working for the excise.’

  ‘He was certainly very slow in pursuing you the night I first arrived at Glen Clair,’ I said, remembering. ‘I thought it was because he was downright lazy and did not want to spoil the line of his uniform with physical exercise, but perhaps he had been paid to be blind, deaf and idle as well.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Neil said. ‘And perhaps he was also the man giving your uncle secret intelligence to pass along to the French—under cover of smuggling the whisky.’

  That took the breath from me. I had wondered why a man like Neil Sinclair had been deputed to work secretly for the excise, but now I saw that it was a great deal more serious than that. He had been working against those who spied for the French.

  ‘Uncle Ebeneezer is a French spy?’ I said. I think there was a fair degree of unflattering surprise in my voice. ‘I can scarce credit it.’

  ‘Hence his success,’ Neil said dryly. ‘It is a certainty that he was passing information along with each consignment of whisky. He had a well-established route by which the whisky was smuggled out. Messages were passed along it too, from the barracks at Ruthven to the coast.’

  ‘But I thought we were at peace with the French now,’ I objected.

  ‘The Treaty of Amiens will not hold,’ Neil said. ‘There was never a chance of it. We will be back at war within the year.’

  I would have shaken my head at the shock of it all if I had been able to move.

  ‘So you were betrayed, and they set a trap for you,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ Neil said. He sounded bitter. ‘Fool that I was for not seeing it. I had been smuggling alongside the gang for six months and thought your uncle trusted me.’ He sighed. ‘He bade me meet with him at the Five Bells in Gairloch. I left Miss McIntosh at the tea shop, with the promise of returning to her shortly, and followed you and your cousin along the promenade.’

  ‘Poor Miss McIntosh,’ I said. ‘I wonder if she is still there? Perhaps she will be if she believes that you are worth waiting for?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Neil said. ‘Miss McIntosh has never lacked for masculine admiration and she has a short attention span.’

  ‘Dear me,’ I said blandly. ‘I think I may have made a mistake when I turned you down, Mr Sinclair. You could have been a mere stepping stone to so many others.’

  I felt him looking at me through the darkness. Strange—when I could not see him—that I knew that his look was intense and hot enough to send sparks through my blood even in the dark. Especially in the dark. I shivered, and this time it was from neither the rats nor the cold.

  ‘Pray continue your tale,’ I said hastily.

  ‘I walked into the inn parlour a bare few minutes after you,’ Neil said. ‘The first thing I saw was you, insensible on the couch, and Ellen in hysterics. Before I could even open my mouth to ask what was going on your uncle turned on me and denounced me for a traitor. Someone hit me, and we had a fight that ended up with me here, with no escape and nothing but a slip of a girl as an ally.’

  ‘Well,’ I said tartly, ‘since I am the only ally you have, you might be a bit more grateful.’ I sighed. ‘I might have known that Ellen would have the vapours,’ I added. ‘Was there ever such a helpless girl?’

  ‘I’m not sure that she could have done anything more practical,’ Neil said. ‘There were four or five burly men there, and she is at the mercy of her father.’

  I was not particularly impressed, either by Ellen’s behaviour or by Neil’s defence of her, but I let it pass since there were more pressing matters in my mind. But you may be sure that had I been in Ellen’s place I would have found some way of saving the day—or so I like to think.

  ‘What manner of ship is this, Mr Sinclair?’ I asked. ‘Is it a slaver? Am I bound to be raped or sold into servitude or worse? Are we to be thrown overboard? You had best tell me the truth. I need to prepare myself.’

  Neil was silent, which did nothing to reassure me. Despite my attempts to remain calm my imagination was by now running riot. The crew, I was sure, must be rough, uncouth men, to take such a commission from my uncle, and as such they would clearly be criminals engaged in smuggling, slaving and worse. Besides, a rat had just scurried over my skirts in the dark, its feet pattering away on the bare boards of the ship. There is nothing like being down among the rats in the darkness to encourage the mind to run wild.

  ‘I fear I cannot offer much comfort,’ Neil said. ‘I know the Captain of this ship. Whilst he may sail on the wrong side of the law, he has never dealt in slaves before, but…’ He let the sentence trail away.

  ‘He may not deal in slaves, but he deals in bribes,’ I said. ‘And he has agreed to rid my uncle of the two of us. What does he mean to do—murder us?’

  ‘He may,’ Neil said. ‘Though I suspect he would not care to sully his hands with such work unless your uncle has paid him a vast sum of money. The Navy have had their eye on him for a while. We suspected he was a French sympathiser.’

  ‘Then it is a pity you did not do something about it sooner,’ I said, testing the ropes at my wrists and ankles and feeling them burn me. ‘I have a bad feeling about this whole business. Since you recognise him, Mr Sinclair, he cannot run the risk of you returning to tell your Navy colleagues what he has done. Nor can I be allowed to return with some wild tale of kidnap. He might as well kill us and have done with it.’

  ‘You may find out soon enough,’ Neil said, ‘for I hear someone coming.’ There was the beat of footsteps above our heads. Neil shifted beside me and his voice became urgent. ‘Catriona. Be careful what you say. You are right in that we do not know what fate is intended for us.’

  ‘I know you think me foolishly outspoken—’ I started to say, but he interrupted me.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, I do not. You are courageous to a fault. That is why you have to be careful.’

  There was no time for any more, because with a creak of protest a trap door opened above and a lantern glimmered in the gap. I saw first of all the strong dark beams of the ship, like a cage about us, and a wooden ladder descending from a small square gap in the roof. A man came
down, lantern in hand. He was small and young, younger than I, and he had a thatch of unkempt hair, darting eyes, and a merry smile that seemed singularly inappropriate given the circumstances.

  But as soon as the light fell around me I forgot everything else because then I could see Neil, and I will never forget what he looked like. His uniform was filthy beyond recognition, his dark hair matted and dull with dust. There was an evil looking cut to his forehead that was still crusted with blood, and a bruise on one cheekbone that looked angry and raw. But it was the way that they had tied him up that caused me to catch my breath on a gasp. I had thought that they had been cruel to me, with the rope tied so tight that I had lost the sensation in my limbs, but Neil had been tied like a bow, his wrists bound to his ankles so that he was bent into the most painful and unnatural shape imaginable.

  The man with the lantern heard me gasp. He looked across at Neil with dislike. ‘Don’t waste your sympathy on him, lassie. No one likes him very much.’

  He threw down a hunk of bread and a pannikin of water in Neil’s general direction, although it must have been obvious to him that Neil could reach neither, and then he knelt by my feet and cut through the ropes that bound my ankles.

  ‘Captain wants to see you, lassie,’ he said, with another inappropriately merry smile. ‘Follow me.’

  I hesitated, looking at Neil, wanting to help in some way, but he looked straight back at me, his dark gaze forbidding me to interfere. I bit my lip hard, to prevent the furious words from spilling out. The lantern bobbed ahead of me as my guide shinned up the ladder and through the hatch, plunging the hold back into darkness. I followed much more slowly, because I was cold and stiff and my legs were shaking and reluctant to work.

  ‘Remember,’ Neil whispered, ‘be careful, Catriona.’