Chapter 19
“Me Laird, we’ve already sent scouts to the village. No one saw strangers pass through last night.” Fraser stepped forward, his weathered face grim.
“Then they didnae go through the village.” Declan swung himself into his saddle with lethal grace. “Fraser, take the eastern roads. I’ll cover the north. Send runners between groups; the moment anyone finds a trace, I want to ken.”
“What about the meetin’ point?” Fraser asked quietly. “The old kirk. Should we position men there in advance?”
“Aye, but hidden. I want eyes on that place from every angle.” Declan’s grey eyes were hard as winter steel. “These bastards think they can dictate terms to me. They’re about to learn otherwise.”
The men mounted up, their faces set with the same cold fury their laird displayed. This wasn’t just about retrieving a kidnapped child; this was personal. Someone had violated MacGhee hospitality, had stolen from under their laird’s protection. That demanded blood.
“Move out!” Declan’s command sent horses surging forward, hooves thundering against cobblestones as they split into search parties.
They rode hard, covering miles of Highland terrain with ruthless efficiency. Declan pushed his stallion to the edge of endurance, his mind cataloging every detail of the landscape—places to hide, paths to escape, ambush points where cowards might wait.
Hold on, lass. Just hold on. I’m coming.
The sun had climbed higher when one of his scouts came racing back, his horse lathered with sweat.
“Me Laird! We found tracks, fresh ones, leadin’ toward the old quarry.”
“How many?”
“Two horses, maybe three. Hard to tell with the rocky ground.”
“Show me.”
They followed the scout to where disturbed earth and broken branches told a story. Someone had passed this way recently, moving quickly but not carefully enough to hide their trail completely.
“Amateurs,” Duncan muttered, studying the tracks. “Or they wanted us to follow.”
“Either way, we follow.” Declan dismounted, examining the ground more closely. “Fraser, take half the men and circle around. If this is a trap, I want them caught in their own snare.”
“And if it’s nae? If we’re chasin’ shadows while they move Eloise somewhere else?”
“Then we adapt.” Declan’s jaw tightened. “But me instincts say they’re still close. They want that ransom. They willnae risk movin’ too far before the exchange.”
They pressed on, following the trail deeper into the hills. The quarry loomed ahead, an old, abandoned site where MacGhee men had once cut stone for the castle. Now, it was nothing but crumbling walls and hidden hollows, perfect for hiding.
Perfect for an ambush.
“Spread out,” Declan commanded in a low voice. “Silent approach. If anyone’s there, I want them surrounded before they ken we’re comin’.”
His men moved like ghosts, years of clan warfare teaching them how to use terrain to their advantage. Declan approached the main entrance, every sense alert for danger.
That’s when he heard it, a muffled curse, quickly silenced. English accent. Male.
Got you.
He signaled Fraser, who’d positioned himself on the opposite side. On his count, they moved as one, bursting into the quarry with weapons drawn.
A man scrambled up from where he’d been crouched, his face going pale at the sight of armed Highlanders materializing from seemingly nowhere.
“Daenae move,” Declan commanded, his voice deadly quiet. “One wrong step, and it’ll be yer last.”
The man’s hand twitched toward his belt, but Fraser was faster, his dirk pressed against the stranger’s throat before he could reach whatever weapon he’d been reaching for.
“I wouldnae,” Fraser advised pleasantly. “Our laird is in a very poor mood today. Somethin’ about missin’ children makin’ him irritable.”
“I don’t know anything about any missing child.”
“Lie to me again, and I’ll cut out yer tongue.” Declan moved closer, his size and fury making the man shrink back. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.” Declan’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, snapping his head back. “Try again. Where. Is. She.”
“I was just hired to deliver messages!” The words tumbled out in a rush, blood dripping from his split lip. “I swear, I don’t know where the girl is!”
“Who hired ye?”
“I don’t know her name! Just some English woman, offered good coin to leave notes at the castle—”
“English woman.” Declan’s eyes narrowed. “Describe her.”
“Blonde. Green eyes. Looked like quality, but...” The man hesitated.
“But what?”
“But there was something off about her. Cold. Like she didn’t care about nothing but the money.”
Declan exchanged a look with Fraser. Blonde. Green eyes. Could it be someone from Francesca’s family? But why would they take Eloise?
“Where were ye supposed to meet her next?”
“The old kirk at sunset. I was to confirm the Laird received the note and that he’d be bringing the ransom alone.”
“And then?”
“Then she’d tell me where to find the girl for the exchange.” The man’s eyes darted between the armed Highlanders surrounding him. “That’s all I know; I swear it! I’m just a messenger!”
“A messenger who helped kidnap a child.” Declan’s voice could have frozen fire. “That makes ye guilty of the same crime.”
“Please, I need the money! My family needs me.”
“Should have thought of that before ye agreed to help steal mine.” Declan grabbed him by the throat, lifting him until his toes barely touched ground. “Ye’re going to take us to this woman. And if one hair on that child’s head has been harmed, I’ll make sure ye die very, very slowly.”
He dropped the man, who crumpled to the ground, gasping. “Tie him up. We’re takin’ him back to the castle.”
“Shouldnae we handle it ourselves?”
“Nay. I want Francesca to hear this. She needs to ken what we’re dealin’ with.” And part of him—the part that was beginning to suspect the impossible—needed to see her face when this man described the woman who’d hired him.
They rode back to Castle MacGhee with their prisoner bound and secured.
Declan’s mind churned with possibilities, each more disturbing than the last. An English woman with blonde hair and green eyes.
Someone who knew enough about the castle to plan this kidnapping.
Someone who wanted ransom money badly enough to take a child.
They’d barely entered the courtyard when Francesca came running out, her face pale with desperate hope.
“Did you find her? Is she ok?”
“We found a scout. The man who left the ransom note.” Declan dismounted, his expression grim. “He has information. But Francesca, ye need to prepare yerself.”
“Me Laird!” Another rider came thundering through the gates, nearly running over servants in his haste. “Another note! We found it pinned to the old kirk’s door!”
Declan snatched the parchment, his blood running cold as he read. Wordlessly, he handed it to Francesca.
Since you clearly can’t follow simple instructions, here’s proof we have the girl. Bring the ransom tonight at sunset. Come alone, or the next thing you receive will be her finger.
Tied to the note was a length of blue ribbon, the same ribbon Eloise had worn in her hair yesterday. Francesca’s hands shook as she touched it, her face draining of what little color it had held.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
Her knees buckled. Declan caught her before she hit the ground, supporting her weight as she clutched the ribbon to her chest.
“She’s alive,” he said firmly, forcing her to focus on his face. “Do ye hear me? She’s alive. They wouldnae send proof if they’d already harmed her.”
“But they have her. They have my baby.”
He gave her a small shake, just enough to cut through the panic. “I need ye strong right now, Francesca. Eloise needs ye strong.”
She sucked in a shuddering breath then another, forcing herself to straighten. “I’m going with you tonight.”
“Nay.”
“Don’t you dare tell me no!” Fire replaced fear in her eyes. “I’m going, Declan. Eloise is out there.”
“Which is exactly why ye’re stayin’ here where it’s safe!”
“Safe?” She laughed, the sound brittle and sharp. “Nothing is safe anymore! They took her from this castle, from her own bed! I should have been with her.”
“If ye’d been with her, they’d have taken ye both.” His hands gripped her shoulders. “And then where would we be?”
“I don’t care! I’m going to that meeting!” She pulled away from him, her chin lifting with stubborn defiance. “My presence might force them to reveal themselves. They’ll have to show us Eloise is alive, have to prove they have her before I hand over anything.”
“She’s right, cousin.” Fraser’s voice cut through their argument. “A distraught mother demandin’ to see her child before payin’ ransom? That’s expected. It might work in our favor.”
“Or it might get her killed.” Declan rounded on Fraser. “This is clearly a trap. Ye said so yerself.”
“Aye, it’s a trap. But we can set our own snare within theirs.” Fraser’s dark eyes were calculating. “We’ll have men hidden at every approach. The moment they reveal Eloise’s location, we strike.”
“And if they see our men? If they panic and hurt her?”
“Then we make sure they daenae see our men.” Fraser’s expression hardened. “We’re Highlanders, Declan. We ken these lands better than any English kidnappers. We’ll ghost them so thoroughly, they’ll think they’re alone right up until our blades find their throats.”
Declan wanted to refuse. Wanted to lock Francesca in her chamber and handle this himself. But the determination in her eyes, the same fierce protectiveness he’d seen when she’d defended Eloise at the ceilidh, told him she’d find a way to follow even if he forbade it.
“Fine,” he bit out. “But ye do exactly as I say. Ye daenae leave me sight for even a moment. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“And if things go wrong, if there’s any danger, ye run. Ye leave Eloise to me and ye run to safety.”
“I willnae.”
“That’s the condition.” His voice dropped to steel. “Ye come with me, but ye swear on everythin’ ye hold dear that if I tell ye to run, ye run. Because I cannae protect both of ye if ye’re being stubborn.”
She hesitated, clearly warring with herself. “I swear.”
“Francesca!” Lady Gretchen’s voice carried across the courtyard as she hurried toward them, her face creased with worry. “I came as soon as I heard they were back! Is there any word yet?”
“They found one of the kidnappers,” Francesca said, her voice steadier now. “And we received another note. They’re demanding ransom tonight at the old kirk.”
“And you’re going?” Lady Gretchen looked between them with sharp eyes. “Both of you?”
“I have to. I can’t sit here.”
“Of course, you can’t.” Her aunt pulled her into a fierce hug. “You’re her mother. You’ll do what mothers do—you’ll fight for your child.”
“I’m tryin’ to keep her safe,” Declan said, frustration bleeding through his controlled tone. “Havin’ Francesca there increases the risk.”
“Having her mother there gives Eloise hope,” her aunt countered. “And hope is powerful, young man. Never underestimate it.” She released Francesca and fixed Declan with a look that reminded him uncomfortably of his own grandmother.
She turned back to Francesca. “You be careful out there. That child has already lost her parents once. She cannot lose them again.”
“We’re not her parents.” Francesca started.
“Aren’t you?” Her aunt’s voice softened. “Blood doesn’t make a parent, child. Love does. And you both love her fiercely. That makes you her parents in every way that matters.”
Declan felt something shift in his chest at those words.
Parents.
“We need to move,” he said roughly, covering the unexpected emotion with action. “Fraser, get the men into position. I want scouts watchin’ every approach to the kirk. If a mouse farts within a mile of that place, I want to ken about it.”
“Aye, cousin.” Fraser’s lips twitched despite the gravity of the situation. “We’ll be ready.”
As the men dispersed to prepare, Declan pulled Francesca aside. “Are ye certain about this? Truly certain? Because once we leave these walls, I need ye completely focused. No panickin’, no rushin’ in without thinkin’.”
“I won’t panic.” Her green eyes met his steadily. “I’ll follow your lead. But I need to be there, Declan. I need her to know I’m coming for her.”
He studied her face—the fear she was barely controlling, the determination burning beneath it, the love for a child that had brought her all the way to Scotland and into a marriage with a stranger.
This woman who’d defied her father, sacrificed her reputation, faced down Highland prejudice—all for a little girl who needed her.
She’s magnificent. Fierce and brave and absolutely terrifying in her love.
“Then we go together.” He touched her face briefly, allowing himself one moment of softness. “And we bring our daughter home.”
The word hung between them like a promise. Francesca’s eyes widened slightly, but before she could respond, Betsy appeared with their traveling cloaks.
“Everything’s ready, Me Laird. The horses are saddled, and Cook’s packed provisions in case ye’re gone overnight.”
“We willnae be gone overnight.” Declan’s voice carried absolute certainty. “We’ll have Eloise back before dark.”
Lady Gretchen stood watching them prepare, her aged face lined with worry. “I’ll wait here. When you return, and you will return, I’ll have everything ready to welcome that child home properly.”
“Thank you, Aunt.” Francesca embraced her quickly. “Take care of the animals? She’ll want to see them first thing.”
“Of course, dear.” Lady Gretchen’s voice wavered slightly. “Just... be careful. Both of you.”
Declan helped Francesca mount, then swung into his own saddle. Fraser and a carefully selected group of men waited at the gates, enough to handle trouble, few enough to move quietly.
“Remember,” Declan addressed them all, his voice carrying the weight of command, “we move silent and we move smart. These bastards think they’re clever, think they can take what’s mine and walk away unscathed. We’re going to teach them otherwise.”
A chorus of grim agreement met his words. These men had trained together, fought together, bled together. They would follow their laird into hell itself if he asked.
And hell was exactly where Declan planned to send anyone who’d dared harm Eloise.
As they rode out through the gates, he glanced back once to see Lady Gretchen standing in the courtyard, Betsy beside her. The old woman raised one hand in farewell, then turned to Betsy with words Declan’s sharp ears just caught. “Prepare me a cup of tea, girl. It’s going to be a long wait.”
“Aye, Me Lady. But they’ll bring her home. The Laird always protects what’s his.”