Page 80 of What a Scot Wants
Finally, the black, windowless carriage came to a stop, and the figure emerged. Ronan jumped from his carriage, signaling the driver to wait, and followed Calder’s man through the front door of a building that looked to be in shambles. The odors of excrement and mildew accosted him as he took the steps to the next floor, following the man’s footfalls. Ronan had his dirk in hand, his every sense on alert.
He came to a third-floor corridor and heard a door shut a little ways down. Then some muffled voices. Ronan stayed against a wall, doubt beginning to trickle in. Could this simply be a random man’s home? There were likely a handful of bachelors living in Calder’s fine lodgings. This man might not have anything to do with Calder at all, and Ronan could very well be wasting his time here.
A few minutes later, the door opened and the same man emerged. He no longer held the small bundle. He took care to lock the door before moving for the stairs again. Ronan pressed himself against the wall, remaining invisible to the man, whose steps descended the stairs at a rapid pace. Where he was going didn’t matter. Who was inside the room down the corridor did.
Ronan knocked, feeling a fool. But if it was indeed an innocent stranger’s home, he’d feel an even bigger fool by barging in. He banged hard on the door. A guttural moan was all that came from within the apartment. And it sounded female.
Heart clenching, he stepped back and planted his foot in the center of the door, ripping the lock from the frame. It bashed open, revealing a darkened room, the only light coming from a slim window. A woman sat tied to a chair, a gag between her lips, her muffled voice straining in a cry when she saw him.
“Imogen,” Ronan breathed out, his legs feeling numb as he crossed the small room to reach her. With his dirk, he cut away the ropes that bound her hands and then removed the gag.
“Ronan,” she rasped, throwing her arms around his neck as he next sliced through the ropes securing her ankles to the legs of the chair. “Oh, thank God you found me.”
He picked her up, crushing her to him, unable to do anything more than feel her body, inhale the sweet scent of her hair, and savor the hot gusts of her breath in the crook of his neck.
“Are ye injured?” he finally asked.
“No, no, I’m fine now. Oh, thank God, Ronan,” she said again, still clinging to him. He peeled her away, needing to inspect her for himself.
“Calder. He did this,” Ronan said, his eyes taking in her dress, her face, looking for any mark of injury. But except for her loose hair, torn from its pins, and her frightened eyes, she didn’t seem to be hurt.
Imogen nodded. “He…he was going to make it look like someone had kidnapped me, and then stage a false rescue. And…since we’d been alone in this place…” She trailed off, her face stricken.
“Ye’d be ruined. Ye’d have to marry him.” Ronan wished to God he’d throttled the bastard back at his house that afternoon. He would do it. One way or another, he was going to end him.
“I just want to get out of here, Ronan,” she said, her hands cold as he took them in his and kissed them before scooping her up into his arms.
“Ye’re safe, love,” he said, taking her from the dank and dirty room. “I promise ye, nae one will ever harm ye again.”
She leaned into his embrace, tucking her head beneath his chin. “That’s an impossible promise to make, you know.”
“No’ for me. I’ll move heaven and earth to find ye, Imogen. And mercy on the man who ever lays a finger on ye.” His eyes met hers, the soft wonder in them nearly silencing him. “Ye’re mine now.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two days later, Imogen eyed her bruised, dark purple wrists, wincing at the discolored streaks the rope had left behind. She’d injured herself trying to wriggle out of the tight bindings and had succeeded once, hitting one of her captors with a candlestick before she’d been even more tightly restrained. She was fairly certain she’d dealt the man quite a blow to the temple, and if he was one of Calder’s men, as Ronan had suspected, he would have a huge mark to show for it. Possibly a blackened eye.
Unfortunately, no one matching such a description had been at Calder’s residence, and the Runners had come away empty-handed. Unless, of course, the man had been conveniently eliminated to avoid suspicion. Imogen knew Calder would cover his tracks any way he could. Silas himself had been interviewed by an agent called Thomson and had been cleared, to Imogen’s disgust. Despite her claims, he’d had a strong alibi for the entire six-hour duration of her abduction, insisting he’d had nothing to do with it.
Since they could not find nor prove the identity of the footman to corroborate Ronan’s evidence, it had been Silas’s word against hers. And given that she was a woman, that meant that she didn’t have a leg to stand on.
Ronan had been furious when he’d returned to Dunrannoch House to break the news that Silas would not be apprehended.
“You believe me, don’t you?” she’d asked him, worried that suddenly he would change his mind and doubt her side of things.
Ronan had scowled, his dark brows pulling together. “Of course I do. Ye said he was there, and I believe ye.”
“You don’t believe what he said?” she’d asked in a small voice.
He had looked at her as if she were addlepated. “Why would I? The man’s a slippery eel who’s had years of experience swindling and defrauding people. Besides, I trust ye more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.” He’d crouched then and taken her hands. “Imogen, I willalwaysbelieve ye.”
The earnestness of his vow floored her.
And the knowledge that he took her account seriously made her think twice about telling her parents the truth about Silas. Maybe they would believe her, too, about what had happened with her and with Belinda, and now what he’d recently done. But then, even if they did, what would they think about her for her part in it? Would they judge her? Condemn her? Cast her out?
While she didn’t want to believe her parents would shun her, especially after her father’s recent admission that he only had her best interests at heart, she’d met too many women at Haven who’d been dismayed when their families had cast them out after an indiscretion or even an attack. Nearly all of them had been accused of lying, too, while the men who’d assaulted them went free. She couldn’t bear it if she lost them.
In the end, she had asked Ronan not to say anything to them about Silas and the kidnapping. Instead, Imogen told her parents that she’d mistakenly believed she was to meet Aisla the following day and had spent the afternoon and evening visiting a number of potential investors for Haven. She’d apologized for causing such worry, and her parents, too relieved to have her safely at home again, had simply asked her to be more mindful of her appointments in the future. Imogen was grateful. Her father would have suffered apoplexy to discover that his only daughter had been kidnapped. By a man he trusted, no less.
