My Highland Love (Highland Lords, #1)

She paused and looked over her shoulder.

"Have Kiernan meet me in the stables in fifteen minutes. I have something to attend to and I planned a ride before lunch. He can accompany me."

She nodded and left him alone.

Marcus seated himself at his desk and fished the Boston letter from the pile. He tore open the envelope and removed a letter, two folded newspaper clippings, and a sealed envelope addressed to Elise. He laid the two letters aside and unfolded one of the newspaper clippings. The title read:

November 10, 1826

The Wellington leaves Boston harbor carrying twenty-five American convicts headed for Australia.

Marcus scanned the report, which listed the twenty-five men, their crimes, and sentences.

He picked up the second clipping and unfolded it. The report read:

November 10, 1826

BOSTON SHIPPING MOGUL MISSING

Boston shipping mogul Price Ardsley, recently charged by the board of directors of Landen Shipping with fraud, has been missing since November 9. Landen Shipping contends that Ardsley fled the country to avoid prosecution.

The night Price Ardsley disappeared, Mister Jacob O'Riley reported witnessing two men outside Ardsley's estate accost a lone rider. A hood was thrown over the victim's head, then he was tied and thrown into the back of a carriage driven by his two assailants.

William Sheldon of the Boston Police Department interviewed Mister O'Riley but determined the event O'Riley witnessed is not connected with the disappearance of Price Ardsley.

Anyone having information about Mister Ardsley's whereabouts is directed to report to Captain Sheldon immediately.

Marcus reread the first clipping. Price Ardsley in Australia. Heated satisfaction shot through him. So, he would not have to return to America after all. He refolded the two clippings, slipped them back in their envelope, then opened the letter and began reading.

Ashlund,

Six weeks have passed, and I am fully recovered from the knife wound you inflicted. Had the doctors not insisted on the long convalescence, I would have caught the next ship bound for Scotland and run a dagger through your leg for good measure.

I imagine you've read the newspaper clippings I sent. Strange things are afoot. I can't say what lies ahead. Though I feel certain Price Ardsley won't be in a position to pay anyone to kill another man—or two men, as the case may be—again in the near future.

See that Elise gets the letter addressed to her.

Take care of her.

Steven

Marcus refolded the letter and placed it in the envelope with the clippings. He took the letter addressed to Elise and went to her chambers. He sighed upon finding her room empty. Perhaps when he returned she would be here and… He left the letter on her dresser, then headed for the stables.

Marcus heard the approach of footsteps even as Elise called out his name. He exchanged a glance with Kiernan before turning from the stall where his son was saddling the stallion he had chosen to ride. As she hurried down the stable aisle toward them, Marcus's heart began to hammer out the heavy beat he had been experiencing more and more of late when in her presence. He noticed a letter—Steven's letter—tightly clutched in her hand.

Elise had nearly reached them when she lifted the letter. "This came today?"

"Aye," Marcus replied.

"Steven says he is fully recovered and out of the hospital." She stopped beside Marcus. Her expression clouded over. "Marcus, please, don't lie. How bad was the wound? Is it possible he truly is out of danger?"

"I told you the truth, love," he said. Except for the fact Steven had turned at just the wrong moment and the knife Marcus had thrown pierced the breastbone above the heart instead of his arm, as intended. Marcus shuddered inwardly as he always did when remembering how close he came to killing his wife's brother—and how close the brother came to killing his own son.

"The wound wasn't life threatening." Or so the doctors said two days later, when Steven began to show signs of recovering from the loss of blood. Marcus would have arrived back in Scotland a week earlier had he not tarried in Boston to assure himself the boy would recover.