Page 161 of The Highlander Who Protected Me

“Doesna look like a polite conversation to me.”

When Angus unbuttoned his coat, Ainsley caught a glimpse of the pistol shoved into the waistband of his breeches.

“You and the wee lassie wait here.”

“Maybe we should just go back to the house instead.”

“Nae, that carriage is too close for my comfort. Stay here.”

“Angus . . . oh, blast,” she muttered.

With his usual spryness, the old fellow hurried across the lawn to confront the man. “Here now,” he called out. “What is it ye be needin’ from—”

Without hesitation, the greatcoated man spun around and drilled Angus in the chin. Ainsley let out a strangled shriek as the old man dropped to his knees. William leapt forward to attack, but another stranger appeared from behind the coach. He smashed the butt of a flintlock into William’s skull. The footman collapsed onto the grass like he’d been shot.

Horrified, Ainsley backed away, clutching Tira to her chest. The attackers were between her and Kendrick House, and she couldn’t depend on any of the servants looking out the window and rushing to help. She could scream, but even then it was unlikely that aid would arrive in time.

She pivoted and scurried toward the opposite side of the park. If she could make one of the other streets, she could slip into one of the back alleys running behind the houses and—

Ainsley skidded to a halt whenanotherman in a greatcoat dashed toward her across the lawn. Where hadhecome from?

Tira, finally jolted awake, let out a wail. Ainsley hoisted her higher on her shoulder and turned back toward Kendrick House. But when she tried to dart around the men who’d attacked Angus and William, her leather boots slipped on the grass. Tira, her cries rising in volume, shot up a hand and grabbed the edge of Ainsley’s poke bonnet, yanking it down over her eyes.

“Give it up, missus,” came a low growl. “There ain’t no way you’re getting away from us.”

Ainsley pushed her bonnet from her eyes to see the man who’d cut off her escape to the side streets. Despite his rough speech, he was dressed in a well-tailored greatcoat and a beaver hat. He looked more like a prosperous shopkeeper than a thug, except for the pistol that was half-concealed by his coat.

“What do you want?” she demanded. Her daughter squirmed, and it was all Ainsley could do to keep hold of her.

“Lord Cringlewood sent us to fetch the brat.” The man grinned, revealing a mouthful of broken teeth. “Looks like you can’t manage her anyway, missus, so you might as well hand her over.”

Ainsley took a step back. “I’ll kill you if you touch my daughter.”

The man scoffed. “We ain’t gonna hurt the kid, but we have our orders. We’re to bring her, no matter what.”

She cast a wild glance around. The other two men, both hulking brutes, stood only a few feet away and blocked her path. William was still flat-out on the grass, while Angus was struggling to get up.

Think.

“Hand her over, missus,” snapped the man with the gun. “We ain’t got all day.”

Ainsley squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, praying for strength. Then she met the man’s gaze with her own challenge. “You’re taking her to his lordship now?”

“Aye.”

“Then I’m coming too.”

He nodded. “Cringlewood thought you might say that. Come along with you, then.”

When the man reached to take her arm, she jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

He shrugged, briefly flashing his pistol. “Suit yourself. But get a move on it, if you know what’s good for you.”

They started off toward the carriage, which had moved toward them.

“My husband will go to the magistrate. You won’t get away with this,” she said.

“His lordship ain’t worried about that. She’s his kid, isn’t she?”

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