Heather knew all too well that men trusted men over women, especially when paid to do so. “I hate you.”
“That’s fine.”
She lunged for the carriage door, scrabbling for the latch. A deafening sound blasted out, and the window shattered.
Heather leaned back, pressing herself into the seat, stunned into compliance.
“You shot at me,” she whispered. Well, maybe she whispered. Perhaps she shouted. The ringing in her ears made it hard to tell.
Webb pointed the gun toward her. “I shot past you, as a warning. Don’t make me shoot again. You’ll sit and you’ll stay there, like a good girl.”
Heather held still, aware that the gun held at least one more bullet. Or more. She didn’t know enough about guns to be sure, and she didn’t want to find out like this.
The driver took a turn (the unexpected shot hadn’t even caused him to slow down), and Heather glimpsed water in the distance.
“Ah, there’s the harbor ahead.” Webb said. “And by the way, if you say a single word to the captain or the crew, it will be the last word you ever say. After all, a wife should obey her husband, yes?”
“I don’t believe that. And anyway, I’ll never be your wife.”
“You will. I was going to wait until we got on board to teach you your wifely duties. But this carriage may do just as well.”
“What?” Even as Heather raised her hands to ward him off, Webb lurched toward her, his breath hot and foul against her face. His mouth dragged across her skin, and she wanted to throw up.
Heather twisted to one side. “Get away from me!”
“You need a lesson in manners, girl. Running away on your wedding day, making a fool of me? I’ll teach you what respect feels like.” He tried to kiss her again.
Heather leaned back and spat in his face.
He slapped her, hard, snapping her head to one side. Stars burst behind her eyes, and she was temporarily stunned.
When she finally got hold of herself again, she scrambled back into the corner of the carriage, prepared to kick and scream and do whatever she had to do.
But Webb wasn’t interested in her any more. He was calmly reloading his pistol, taking advantage of her momentary incapacity.
Her cheek stung where he’d struck her, and she cautiously reached up to touch it. Her fingers barely grazed the skin before she winced at the pain.
“A little red,” he noted calmly. “No one will notice.”
“You’re pathetic. No woman will have you, so you’re reduced to stealing any bride you can?”
He finished reloading, and smiled. “Not just any bride. You. Since I first laid eyes on you, what was it, five years ago? Six? I knew that I wanted you all to myself. You think I spent so much time at Hayes House just to put up with Cyril? I’ve heard all his stories a dozen times. But watching you was a treat I couldn’t get enough of.”
Heather remembered her uncle’s insistence on her greeting his guests and playing hostess for them, even at fourteen and fifteen. She’d never liked the role, and now she knew why it was so repellent when Webb was a guest.
The carriage rattled to a halt. Heather looked out to see several ships at anchor.
“Here we are,” said Webb, aiming the pistol at her once more. “When the tide turns, we’ll begin a honeymoon cruise you’ll never forget.”
Chapter 22
Niall’s heart dropped into hisgut at the news of Webb taking Heather. On the face of it, it didn’t make sense. Those men had all gone from Scotland days ago, according to Robert’s own report. But Brodie wouldn’t lie.
“She left with Webb?” Ian asked, in surprise.
“She never would have done that voluntarily,” said Niall. “Webb must have coerced her into joining him. Which way did they go?”
Brodie’s eyes were wide, and the reality of the situation slowly dawned on him. “You mean she didn’t want to get in that carriage?”
