housekeeper. “Just checking. Elspeth wouldn’t like it.”
There was an expectation from Elspeth’s family that should have shocked him, but he wasn’t surprised considering she’d run into his arms that day in her parlor. She’d been so afraid, shaking and pale. It made his heart pound, thinking of her running for her life, ducking in and out of stores and alleys.
Mrs. Emory poured coffee for each of them and set out a plate of sliced cake. She sat a bowl of hot water down on the end of the table and wrung out a towel after she’d dipped it. “Now, Mr. MacAvoy? Let me see that cut above your eye.”
MacAvoy stared up as if the woman was an angel sent from above while she crooned nonsense and dabbed away blood and dirt from his face. James and Alexander exchanged a look. They waited until she had examined them all and bid them good night.
“Whatever those men told Schmitt, they lied. They’ve not left town. They’re setting traps, and we walked into one tonight,” James said.
“They were waiting for us,” Alexander said.
“But why?” MacAvoy asked. “What does it get them?”
“It would have gotten them somewhere if they’d caught me,” James said and blew on his cup of coffee. “One of them said when they got to the top of the steps, ‘There he is.’ They were looking at me.”
“What do they want? What do you have that they want?” Alexander asked. “What would have kidnapping you done for them or their cause?”
James stared at him, slowly setting his cup down. “It would have gotten them one step closer to the Earl of Taviston and all the riches and property under his control.”
“You’re an earl?” MacAvoy asked. “The chief of a clan?”
“No,” he said and held a penetrating stare on Alexander. “I’m not chief of the clan. Payden is.”
MacAvoy dropped his cup to its saucer with a rattle, sloshing the hot liquid over his hand and onto the table. “Payden?”
“Well over ten thousand acres of prime Scottish property. Dunacres castle. Livestock. Tenants. A home in London and a town house in Edinburgh.”
Alexander stared back. This was what Elspeth was talking about when she said she was worried about Payden. “Why is your family here and not there?”
“That’s a story for another day.” James stood. “But I told you what I did so you don’t underestimate this enemy. The man behind it all is ruthless, and holding one of the brothers or sisters would be the easiest way to make the family comply. I’ve already told Aunt and Muireall that no matter what happens to me, what they might do to me or threaten, that they must never hand over Payden, no matter how much the kidnappers swear to keep him safe. If I die to save him, then I’ve fulfilled a duty I was charged with years ago, and that I would never go back on.”
“What about your sisters? What would you do if one of them was taken?” Alexander asked.
James walked to the door of the kitchens. He turned to Alexander as MacAvoy went out into the night. “My sisters know their duty. Whatever sacrifices must be made, they shall make them.”
The door slammed behind the men, and Alexander dropped down into his chair. A chill went down his spine. There was no mistaking what Thompson meant. If Elspeth was kidnapped, leveraged to get to the boy, no ransom would be paid for her safety.
Chapter 15
“Where were you so late last night, James?” Elspeth asked.
“I’m a grown man,” he said. “Sometimes I’m out late, and I don’t have to report to a younger sister—or an older one.”
“So where were you?”
“Just out with MacAvoy,” he said finally.
“Out fighting? You’ve got a split lip. You never fight when you’re not getting paid.”
James glanced at her from where he stood beside her in the storeroom, inventorying their canned goods. “No, I don’t. But I fight if I have to,” he said with a shrug.
“Over a woman, most likely,” she said with a smile.
“And when do I have time to woo a woman? Between this business and the family and the matches, I scarce have time to draw breath.”
“Then why were you fighting? Does it have anything to do with the men who followed me at the market and after your match?”
James hefted a box of jarred pickles onto his shoulder and sat it on the highest shelf, pushing it back toward the wall and bringing a gust of dusty air floating down. “Ah, it’s dirty