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KIDNAPPED LOVE
By
Carolyn Hinchy-Wertman
© Copyright October 2006, Carolyn Hinchy-Wertman
Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © Copyright October 2006
ISBN 1-58608-923-4
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely a coincidence.
CHAPTER ONE
Harbor Creek, Pennsylvania 1825
The temperature dropped drastically, leaving Nicholas St. Clair at a great disadvantage. Hoping to have the element of surprise on his side, he pursed his lips to quell the breath that misted before him. His body trembled as the wind bit into his flesh and he huddled deeper into the folds of his cloak. "Blast this weather!" He murmured beneath his breath. "At least it isn't snowing." As if to spite him large wet flakes cascaded from the leaden sky. Not amused, he glared toward the heavens.
His hands near frozen; he brought them toward his lips and blew warm air against them. The thin beard at his chin did little to take the chill from his face, forcing him to dip his head toward his chest. Had his business here not been important, he would gladly have sought refuge at the nearest inn. Resigned, he leaned to the wall at the back of the tavern and closed his eyes against the heavy flakes that stung his cheeks.
His body began to numb before the man he waited for finally staggered from the building, grunting as the snow pelted him. Nicholas bided his time. Jimmy McAdoo was a burly man, with muscles like tree trunks and a temper that flared like fire. Even so, he rarely went anywhere without at least two of his cronies at his side. Careful not to reveal himself, Nicholas buried his face deeper in his cloak, where his breath would not be noticed as it was expelled from his lips.
McAdoo did a reel as his intoxicated equilibrium left him off balance. Several seconds elapsed before he gained control and righted his listing body. At last on an even keel, he adjusted his breeches and began to urinate in the snow at his feet. He seemed in no particular hurry to return to the tavern and pulled a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat. Flipping open the lid, he took note of the time and leaned to the wall only a few yards from Nicholas.
Knowing his window of opportunity was small, Nicholas inched closer, his pistol cocked and ready beneath his cloak. Still hidden from view, he trod carefully, lest he alert the other man to his presence. Just about to 'introduce' himself, he lifted the gun. It was the door of the tavern slamming against the wall that halted his progress. Frustrated, Nicholas slid the weapon back to his side and cautiously sidled to the shadows.
A beady-eyed man, as wire thin as McAdoo was muscular, craned his head around the portal and eyed the other man nervously. "Best get yerself inside, Jimmy. Carter's itchin' ter get his money back and is ready ter take it out of Annie's hide in trade."
Spitting in the snow, McAdoo glared at the intruder. "Tell that coward I'll break every bone in his body if he so much as looks at her." He tossed his head in dismissal. "Get on wit ye. I gots business ter attend ter." Eyeing the other man, he added, "Make sure no one comes out here for a bit, Pauly." Sucking at his rotting teeth, he added, "And do what ye has ter wit regard ter Carter. Ye get me meaning?"
Nicholas released a slow sigh through clenched teeth. Eager to find out what McAdoo knew about his brother's disappearance some three months past, he once more edged from the narrow niche he had placed himself in. Barely from the indention, he halted anew; as yet another visitor joined McAdoo in the alley. Annoyed, Nicholas retraced his steps and attempted to control the anger rising in him.
"You McAdoo?" The other man inquired hoarsely. His head was bent deep in the folds of his cloak and a broad hat hung well past his brow, leaving only dark eyes visible.
"Depends who's askin'."
The darkly cloaked figure continued, his tone acrid, "Hear tell you'd do anything for money."
Jimmy snorted. "If the price is right. What you got in mind?"
The man lifted his gaze until it met Jimmy's. "How much to kill someone?"
Jimmy shrugged. "Fifty. Course, it depends on what ye wants done wit um. If they ain't gots ter be buried, I'll skim a bit off the cost."
Withdrawing a sizable purse from his cloak, his 'guest' balanced it in the palm of his hand. "Eleven in the evening two days hence. At the cross roads leading to Erie. No need to bury her. I want her found."
His eyes wide, Jimmy queried, "A woman?" He scrutinized his companion before challenging, "Might cost a bit more ifin it's a woman. They tend ter be screamers and fight like cats." Crossing his arms over the expanse of his chest, he asked, "Young or old?"
"Young." The man did not wait for more questions. "Be at the couture's on Western tomorrow at two. Have a good look at her." He paused. "Make certain you kill the right person this time. I understand last time you were hired for such services, three people died before you got the right one."
Indignant, McAdoo looked away. "Is it my fault they didna give a good description of the bloke? He got what he deserved by the by."
"She is fair with golden hair and cat green eyes." He tossed the sack of coins to the ground at Jimmy's feet. It landed where McAdoo had urinated. "Do the job well and twice that," he indicated the sack with the tilt of his head, "will be your reward." Then he simply faded back into the shadows.
For several moments Jimmy stood unmoving. Eventually, he stooped, retrieved the purse and tucked it into his waistcoat. A snide smile curled the corners of his mouth. "Aye, I'll make sure she's dead, all-right! But that doesn't means I won't be havin' a bit o' fun wit her afores I kills her!" Then he sauntered back into the tavern, whistling as he went.
* * * *
From a discrete distance Nicholas watched the carriage pull before the couture's shop. Impatiently he tapped his booted foot on the snow. He had little time for this. Finding out what happened to his brother should have been his priority. Yesterday behind the tavern was the first time he had had the chance to 'speak' with McAdoo alone in nearly a week since arriving in this retched little town. God only knew when the opportunity would arise again.
First from the conveyance was a tall slender man who smiled as he offered his hand inside. Momentarily the entrance was filled with white fox. The cloak swirled about slender ankles in high dainty boots. A small, gloved hand was settled in the man's fingers. When at last her visage appeared Nicholas drew in a sharp breath. She was enchanting.
Beneath the hood of her cape waves of hair the color of ripe wheat shimmered. Her face was a soft heart shape encompassing emerald green eyes that sparkled as her gaze rested on the man before her. High cheekbones accented a slender nose and full sensuous lips which curled into an enthralling smile as she allowed the man to aid in her descent. The column of her neck, bare save a thin gold chain, was long and slender. Her cape parted as she slipped from the carriage, revealing the swell of full breasts and a trim narrow waist.
A long slow breath eased from Nicholas' lungs. Entranced for a moment, he forgot his purpose for braving the chill air. His jaw slack, he peered at the woman in a daze as she leaned to the man beside her and placed a tender kiss to his lips. Her body brushed his, lingering, as their mouths met. The man drew her close and recklessly swept the hood from her cloak as his hand cupped the nape of her neck. To Nicholas' way of thinking, there seemed entirely too much passion displayed on a busy street where throngs of people hurried about their tasks.
When at last the couple parted, her cheeks were crimson with a deep blush. Trembling fingers pressed to the man's chest as if to steady her. "Lyle…." His name was whispered from her lips.
A soft chuckle escaped his throat. "In due course, Cat, when we are married I shall show you how to kiss as a wife should, not some tender peck as you are want to do."
Nicholas' brows rose. If she had only given the man a peck, what the stranger suggested could only be taught behind closed doors.
Flustered, Catalina McKay gave a feeble smile and nervously smoothed her gown. "In due course," she murmured.
Lyle slipped her hand to the crook of his arm and led her toward the couture's shop. "I shall return for you in about an hour." His dark eyes searched hers. "Promise you will miss me."
She forced herself to meet his gaze. Lyle Van Dern was ruggedly handsome. With coal black hair which curled slightly at his nape and eyes so dark it was hard to distinguish his pupils from the iris, she could not help but peer at him in awe. The thin line of a beard edged his jaw, giving it an angular shape and was complimented by a neatly trimmed mustache above slightly narrow lips. Tall and slender with broad shoulders and a lean waist, he was every girl's fantasy. Yet…Catalina often questioned her attraction to him. Where she was quiet, he was outspoken, offering his opinions freely, often losing his temper when others did not share his views. For a moment Catalina perused him from behind lowered lids. Though she was certain Lyle would make a fine husband, she wasn't sure she loved him. This engagement was agreed upon to please her father. He genuinely liked Lyle and was delighted at the thought of him joining the family.
Catalina saw a glimmer of excitement in her father's eyes she had not viewed in quite some time. A widower these many years, Catalina had become the mainstay of his world. Fearing he would never remarry, though there were plenty of women hoping for the chance, Catalina determined her father would only feel free to do so were she to take a husband first. Hence, Lyle Van Dern. It wasn't that she did not care for Lyle, on the contrary. He was gracious and thoughtful and always very attentive to her needs. Yet, he was also stubborn and opinionated and a bit brash at times. Many were the times Catalina implored him not to kiss her with such passion before the servants or, heaven forbid, her father. Each time her pleas went unheard. Truth be told, he seemed to delight all the more in touching her or embarrassing her in public. The kiss beside the coach was a fine example.
Gracing him with a slight smile she nodded. "I will miss you." Then she disappeared into the shop, leaving him gazing after her on the stoop.
Frowning in indecision, Nicholas kept to his place. For a moment he contemplated his next move. Should he approach the woman alone? Or wait for the man to return? Fate answered for him. Glancing toward the inn across the street, Nicholas fought a shiver threatening to inch up his spine.
Jimmy McAdoo leaned on the horse rail, his arms crossed over his chest, eyeing him curiously. Instinctively Nicholas lowered his hat and leaned into the folds of his cloak. His efforts were in vain, however, as the burly man started to cross toward him. "Blast!" Nicholas murmured beneath his breath. He could ill afford to have McAdoo see his face and ruin everything. Casually, he turned in the opposite direction and began to mill through the throngs of people.
Once to an alley, he slipped to its shadowed passage and sent his feet racing. Mist clouded before him as the chill air stung his lungs. He could hear McAdoo behind him, his heavy footfalls like thunder. Nicholas had one slight advantage, weight. At least four stone lighter than the man who gave chase, he moved with a speed that quickly allowed him distance. Another turn and he gratefully ducked into a gentleman's shop, his breathing erratic, his ribs aching from the sprint. For an instant he leaned to his knees, gasping for air.
Behind the counter a paunchy man eyed him suspiciously. Nicholas raised his hand as if pleading a moment. When at last he spoke, his voice was hoarse, "Have you a back door?" At his host's tentative nod, he queried, "Might I use it?" With nary a word the man pointed toward a curtain hanging at a doorway near the back of the shop. Bestowing a charming grin to the gent, Nicholas hastened through the opening. "My thanks, sir and good day!" Then he was gone, leaving the curtain fluttering after him.
Nigh on an hour later Nicholas craned his neck toward the couture's shop the woman entered earlier. This time he was far more cautious of being in the open. Even so, he was certain he was watched. Carefully he gazed about him. No one person caught his eye and he frowned, his instincts rarely wrong. Another scan fixed his gaze on a man several yards away, cloaked in black, with hat low, as Nicholas' was. Perusing the man, Nicholas assessed him for several seconds. Immediately, the cloaked figure looked away and, after a fleeting moment, hurried in the other direction.
Sighing in relief as the couple exited the shop, Nicholas squared his shoulders and hurried toward them. "Your pardon, sir, madam." He gave them a quick bow and swept his hat from his head. Though he rehearsed his speech several times, of a sudden the words lodged in his throat. What was he to say? 'While waiting in an alley to kill a man, I over heard someone hire that same man to kill your lady?' He had their undivided attention. Nervous, he cleared his throat. "Forgive the intrusion." Glancing about, he assured himself Jimmy McAdoo was nowhere close. "Might I have a word with you in private?"
Protectively, Lyle circled the woman's waist with his arm and drew her close. "Whatever you have to say would be best spoken here in this public place."
Nicholas released a ragged breath. "Nay, sir. 'Tis a private matter and should be taken care of as such."
The woman edged closer the carriage, staying behind the man as if in need of his protection. He in turn sneered at Nicholas. "Whatever it is you wish to say, sir, get on with it. You've frightened my fiancé, and I'll put an end to this at once."
Once more Nicholas cleared his throat. Sensing he would receive a more receptive shoulder from the woman, he faced her. "Yesterday I overheard a conversation, men planning to take your life…."
Lyle cut him off. "Indeed?" His glower should have sent chills up Nicholas' spine. "Why, pray, have you not addressed this with the sheriff? Mayhap 'tis some strange tale made up simply to gain a reward."
Nicholas refused to be baited and continued, "The man gave no name and I am not certain it was even you he spoke of…."
Again Lyle silenced him, "Then you waste our time, sir." Guiding her toward the coach, he sneered, "Be on with you. We've no monies for you."
Insulted, Nicholas puffed his chest indignantly. "I assure you, sir, I have no need of your money. I was only concerned for your lady's welfare."
Handing the woman to the carriage, Lyle glared at him. "Well you've said what you came to say, now be on with you."
Frustrated, Nicholas gently placed his hand to the beautiful woman's arm, attempting to seek her understanding where he could not gain her companion's. "Madam…." Suddenly Lyle's fist slammed against his jaw, sending him reeling. Surprised by the attack, Nicholas stumbled backwards until his feet crashed against the wheel of the conveyance. Then he did an unceremonious stagger into the road and reeled for an instant before landing on his backside in the slush.
Infuriated, Nicholas raised, fists balled ready to seek retribution. He gained little more than a few steps before he was seized from behind and his arms pinned to his sides by bone-crushing pressure. Squirming, he attempted to gain a view of his captive. "Let go of me!" His feet left the ground as the other man hoisted him against his chest.
"You'll be making a promise to quell that temper of yours." The pressure to his chest increased, leaving Nicholas struggling for air.
His face beet red, Nicholas snorted. "I was not the one who threw the punch!" Once more he attempted to look upon his captor. "I demand you put me down this instant!"
At last, the man complied. Releasing Nicholas slowly, he placed him back to his feet and, laying his massive hand to his shoulder, turned him about that they might face one another. A giant of a man with a barrel chest and arms as thick as trees, he sent an icy shiver along the length of Nicholas' spine. Jimmy McAdoo seemed almost petit in comparison. His nose was crooked having been broken many times and his complexion rutty and tinted slightly yellow from years of imbibing hard liquor. Bright red hair protruded from beneath his hat and a spattering of freckles dotted his round cheeks.
Nicholas' gaze drifted to the silver star pinned to his shirt. "You're the sheriff?"
The man nodded as he glanced toward Lyle. "Everett Flanagan, at your service. Everything all-right, Mr. Van Dern?"
Lyle moved closer. "I demand you arrest this man for assaulting my fiancé."
Nicholas snorted. "Are you insane? If any one should be called to task, sir, 'tis you!"
Raising his hands to stem any further outbursts, the sheriff positioned his body to separate both men. "Enough, from both of you." Nodding toward the coach, he asked softly, "You all-right miss?" Her stilted nod was her only reply.
Lyle would not be as easily pacified. "Mayhap were you to do your job, sheriff, you'd question this scoundrel regarding the trouble my fiancé has faced these past weeks. Quite possibly he is responsible for the threats against her life."
Astounded, Nicholas released an indignant huff. "That is utterly absurd! I was simply attempting to warn her of possible harm."
Curling a meaty hand about Nicholas' arm, Everett interjected, "Let's just have a quiet conversation in my office."
Nicholas was certain he left skin in the other man's embrace as he jerked his arm free. "I've done nothing wrong. Forgive my concern. I only just arrived in town a few days ago. Feel free to check with the steward aboard the Midnight Star. She's unloading cargo at the docks."
The sheriff leveled a scathing glower upon him. "Rest assured, sir, I will. However, in the meantime we will go to my office. Whether you go of your own accord is your choice."
Lyle climbed to the carriage and joined the woman within its shelter. "I do hope you prosecute him to the highest degree of the law, sheriff." With that he nodded to the driver and the conveyance moved slowly over the road.
" Catalina dared lean no closer to the window as the carriage advanced past the sheriff and the stranger with him. He was equally as tall as Lyle, with broad shoulders and trim waist. But where Lyle was dark and brooding, the man beside the sheriff was fair, his hair a mixture of blonds, and reds, the beard to his jaw slightly darker in color, hinting that in his youth his hair was probably more red than blond. Eyes like the sea perused her, as his lips, full and expressive, flattened to a pale line beneath a straight aquiline nose. There was something familiar about him, something that forced her to allow her gaze to lock with his as the conveyance maneuvered the ruts of the road. Yet, no name or identity came to her mind and she pursed her lips as he faded from her view. For several seconds she closed her eyes, placing every detail of his features into her mind's eye.
" It was Lyle's blatant perusal of her which brought her from her musings and she squared her shoulders in anticipation of the verbal lashing he was about to unleash upon her.
* * * *
Dropping to a chair and resting his feet atop the desk before him, Everett eyed Nicholas for several seconds. "What's your name, son?"
His sudden change of demeanor left Nicholas with raised brows. "St. Clair." His folded arms over his chest said his displeasure. "Nicholas St. Clair."
"You seem like an intelligent man, Mr. St. Clair, Lyle Van Dern aside." He leaned close. "Take a bit of free advice."
Nicholas eyed him for several seconds, assessing the man. His nostrils flared with his barely concealed ire. Cutting the sheriff off, he hissed, "If your advice is that you only enforce the law when it suits you, I have already surmised as much. You on Van Dern's payroll?"
The only sign of the other man's annoyance was a tick at the side of his cheek. His voice was low and menacing. "Might be best to curb your tongue, Mr. St. Clair. Though a relatively patient man, I have a temper of my own and would not hesitate to put you in a cell until you calm down."
"This is ridiculous! I did nothing wrong." Nicholas flexed his hands as if yearning to strike something.
The sheriff finally slipped his feet to the floor and leaned forward. "Van Dern has been a thorn in my side since coming to Harbor Creek seven months ago. Seems nothing in this town suits him, except his fiancé. He has quite a temper and is easily swayed to throw his fists. Though I do not condone his actions, in the case of his bride to be, I understand them." He paused and shifted in his chair. "About three months ago she began receiving death threats. Van Dern has been in my office nearly every day since. At first I thought it some joke. But after the straps of her saddle were cut twice and an errant bullet narrowly missed her while out hunting with her father, I realized it was serious."
Nicholas sighed in frustration. "All the more reason for Van Dern to listen to me! I tried to tell him of a plot to kill his lady tomorrow night…."
The sheriff eyed him thoughtfully. "Doesn't exactly sound like something you might hear in the sort of places one dressed as yourself would tarry."
Still not certain the sheriff was to be trusted, Nicholas released a weary sigh. "There are all sorts of men to be found at the docks, sheriff. Suffice it to say, I feared for the lady's safety and only meant to warn her."
The air expelled from his host's lungs in a long slow hiss. "What else did these miscreants say?"
Relieved he was finally being taken seriously, Nicholas leaned close. "'Tis to happen at the cross roads leading to Erie, tomorrow night at eleven…."
The sheriff's brows lowered. "Tomorrow, are you sure?"
Nicholas nodded. "Aye."
The other man puffed his cheeks. "You certain Van Dern's bride is the intended victim?"
Nicholas peered at him for a long moment. "Well, her name was never mentioned, but the man hired to do the deed was told to be at the couture's on Western at two in the afternoon this day to get a look at her."
The sheriff huffed. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his hand over his chin. "Might have gotten yourself an ugly bruise for nothing, Mr. St. Clair. She cannot possibly be your woman." He leaned back in his chair until the front legs rose from the floor. "She and Van Dern are getting married tomorrow evening. Their ship doesn't sail until the following day. Van Dern left a detailed itinerary with me. They will not be leaving until well after noon day after tomorrow."
The fist of one hand slammed into the open palm of the other as Nicholas ground his teeth. Mayhap the sheriff was right. Nicholas had not waited to see if another woman arrived to the couture's. Jimmy McAdoo saw to that. Exasperated, he punched his hand once more. "Blast!"
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