Page 40 of Return to Clan Sinclair
She really didn’t want to be hauled back to Ireland this way, especially without being able to say good-bye.
Bruce didn’t look at the other men in the carriage, ignored their muted conversation, his mind on the task at hand.
Rage filled him, and it had been a very long time since he’d allowed himself to become this angry. This wasn’t war; it was worse. War at least had some rules to it. This was one man’s obsession, nothing more.
He would always remember the look of fear in Virginia’s eyes. Was Ceana feeling the same?
He knew how to catch a thief, how to apprehend a criminal. But how did he handle someone who was insane? How did he reason with someone whose obsession had stretched over a decade and multiple countries?
Let him be there in time.
He felt raw and unprepared. He pushed the emotion away, determined to be a professional. He couldn’t afford to let anything deflect him from finding Ceana.
If something happened to her, how would he bear it? How could he look at her daughters and tell them their mother was gone?
He couldn’t.
The words would not be said. Even if it took his life in exchange, he would return her to her family alive and unhurt.
“Tell your driver to slow down,” the duke said. He stuck his head out of the window, then said something in an indecipherable language to Ardan. A moment later it was Ardan’s turn to stick his head outside.
He nodded to Dennis.
“It’s where he nearly hit us, where the two roads come together. I say we go up the hill to the house. It’s the first one around for miles.”
He hadn’t thought of Henderson going to ground. He’d thought the man would try to escape from Scotland just as he had last time. But Henderson might have learned from his mistakes, as most lucky men did.
“The man’s a fool if he thinks not to be discovered,” the duke said.
“Maybe not as much of a fool as we think,” Bruce said. “The place could be well staffed.”
“So it’s a siege you’re thinking of?” the duke asked.
He didn’t answer, spoke through the grill to this driver. “Pull off here,” he said, then directed his comments to the duke. “I don’t think it would be altogether wise to go in announcing our position, unless you have some rifles with you.”
“Nary a one, Preston,” the duke said. “We thought we were rescuing Ceana from her brother, not from a kidnapper.”
“Why the hell did you think you had to rescue her?”
The duke frowned at him, making him appear almost eaglelike. In a few years he would be Brianag’s male counterpart.
“She’s our brother’s widow, Preston.”
“Is she not allowed out of your sight?”
“She’d been gone long enough.”
The remark pushed his temper up a notch. Now was not the time to challenge the other man, however. He’d save his anger for Henderson.
They left the carriage halfway down the hill. Bruce spoke to the driver and gave him instructions to turn the vehicle around while he waited. There was every possibility they might have to make a hasty retreat.
He knew the house from his initial inspection of the countryside when first arriving at Drumvagen. When he’d first seen it, however, the structure had been empty. Two stories tall, the house was made of red brick, with a steep pitched roof, white-painted window frames, and a carved front door at the end of a gravel walk.
He hesitated at the edge of the clearing and motioned for the other men to gather around.
“You sure you’re not a Scot, Preston?” the duke said after hearing his plans. “I’ve heard the Scots are sneaky.”
“Have you now?” he said in a credible imitation of Macrath’s brogue. “I’ve heard much the same about the Irish. But don’t you worry about how sneaky I can be. You just make sure you and your brothers are at the back of the house.”
