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The Sinful Scot (Saints & Scoundrels) Page 13
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“Who the hell sent you?” Alec’s voice was a low growl as he shook the man slightly.
The man blinked and looked around blankly. “I don’t know, I’s just doing what Barney told me ta.”
“And what did he tell you to do?” The two men were scrappers, certainly not trained in any sort of fighting, but they’d been determined to cut Alec down. Way too determined for simply a pair of robbers. No, they’d had a purpose, and he was going to find out what it was. “Tell me.”
“We was after her.” The man nodded to Alec’s side.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Connie. “God damn it, woman, what are you still doing here? I told you to run.” But then he saw the pallor of her skin and that her entire body was shaking.
Without a thought, Alec released the man, pushing him backward. The man stumbled slightly before wasting no time in turning around and running down the street.
Striding over to Connie, Alec quickly assessed her. Her pupils were enlarged, her skin was clammy and pale, her pulse was racing, and she was breathing in little rapid breaths. She was in shock.
He ripped his coat off and placed it over her shoulders, then he scooped her up in his arms. She was completely unresponsive. He didn’t like it at all.
He weighed his options, and with nowhere else to really go, he stalked back down the footpath and reentered the apothecary, slamming the door behind him with his foot. The bell chimed loudly from the force.
Mr. Middleton rushed out from the back, a smile fixed on his face until he took in the sight of Alec with Connie in his arms. “What on earth is going on?” he asked Alec.
“Lock the door now,” Alec ordered as he strode past him toward what must be the private area of the store, behind the curtain.
“I can’t lock the shop—Mr. Trenton would have my head.”
“I’ll have your head if you don’t,” Alec growled as he stopped and looked over his shoulder back at the man. “Now!”
Mr. Middleton quickly pulled the latch over the door. “Fine. But…well I don’t know what’s happening, and I want it known I’m against whatever it is. And I’m shutting the store for only five minutes, and then I want you to leave.”
“We were just attacked, and they might try again. So, unless you want a fight to happen in here, I’d keep the door latched.” Alec gently turned sideways so Connie’s head was protected as he navigated the doorway to the back room.
“Is she all right?” Mr. Middleton asked as he rushed in behind them, finally having noticed Connie’s state of pallor.
“She will be.” Alec quickly surveyed the back office area. There were even more bottles and bags of supplies in the space, but unlike the shop itself, chaos reigned in this room. Things were strewn about everywhere, but there was a two-seater lounge pushed up against the far wall. That would do. He navigated over to it and gently placed Connie across it, raising her legs onto the arm of one side of the lounge. “Get me a blanket and some water for her.”
Mr. Middleton nodded and rushed off. Alec hoped Middleton would get what he asked for and not rush off to alert the authorities. Mind you, he couldn’t really blame the man if he did. But it meant they’d have to be gone soon.
He gently began rubbing Connie’s arms. “It’s all right, Connie, you’re safe now,” he crooned gently to her.
She was looking slightly disoriented and so vulnerable that it nearly broke his heart. Seeing him fighting must have brought back things she’d experienced with Duncan, that she’d probably hoped she’d never have to think of again, let alone be in the middle of.
“I’m so sorry.” Her words were but a whisper, and Alec barely caught them.
He brushed back some strands of her hair. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry over.”
She blinked and slowly nodded.
“Here you go,” Mr. Middleton declared, rushing back into the room with a glass and blanket in tow.
Alec was surprised he’d returned. “Thank you,” he said, taking the blanket first and wrapping it around Connie. She pulled it in closer to her.
“I’ve got a very good remedy I make up for shock,” Mr. Middleton enthused. “I shall go and retrieve some for her.” He turned around and hurried out of the room.
Alec watched him go, hoping that’s what he was actually doing, but aware they’d need to leave shortly if he didn’t come back.
Returning his attention to Connie, Alec noticed that her color seemed to slowly be returning, and the shivering wasn’t so pronounced and definitely seemed to be easing.
He held up the water to her. “Here, take a sip.” He helped support her head and brought the glass to her lips.
She took a small sip, and then her tongue darted out to catch a drop that had trickled down the side of her mouth. Alec felt like he’d been punched again as hot, unabashed desire coiled through him.
He placed the glass on the side table with a thud and steeled himself to refuse to think of any more thoughts like that. He had to focus on looking after her, not ravishing her.
“How are you feeling?” His voice sounded gruff even to his own ears.
She pulled the blanket in a bit tighter to her chest and nodded, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m all right. I don’t know what happened though… I couldn’t… I couldn’t move.” She suddenly glanced up at him, and her eyes were swimming in tears. “I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even help you, and you could have been hurt. Duncan was right; I’m completely useless.”
Alec felt everything in his being clench in rage at her words, and he had to work so hard to not let that show. She’d think he was upset with her, which couldn’t be further from the truth. “Don’t you dare give that piece of filth such power over you, Connie. He was the useless one. The coward. Not you. And of course you froze.” He gently wiped away the tears streaming silently down her cheeks. “You’ve experienced horrors that others have never even known, let alone had to live through. Be kind to yourself.”
“But you might have been hurt,” she whispered. “I could never have lived with myself if you had been, when I could have done something to help but didn’t. All I could do was stand there, frozen. Helpless to do anything but watch.”
Alec smiled. “That, my dear, is a common enough experience for a trauma survivor. And it’s nothing to be ashamed over.”
She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly. “But that’s just it. I’m not a trauma survivor. I survived only because he was murdered, and I wasn’t even the one to have the courage to kill him!”
Gently, so as not to spook her, Alec placed his hand against the side of her cheek. “You are a survivor. You were married to that bastard for over two years, and he didn’t break you. He might have beaten you and broken your bones…” He had to pause and take a deep breath to calm down. The very thought of her hurt was once again sending him dangerously close to the edge. “But you survived. You endured, and you protected Amelie. You didn’t give up on life. You didn’t take the easy way out and end it for yourself. You survived, Connie.”
Taking in a shaky breath, she opened her eyes, and Alec was confronted with the most radiant sapphire blue color he’d ever seen. For a moment, he couldn’t look away. She was breathtaking. And how her husband had continually damaged such perfection showed how truly insane the man had been.
“Thank you, Alec.” Connie placed her own hand on top of his, still lightly resting against her cheek. “I don’t know what I would have done without you here. I really don’t. And I see now how you are such a wonderful doctor. You have one of the best bedside manners I’ve ever experienced. And I’ve experienced a fair few of them. I appreciate it greatly.”
He couldn’t say anything for a moment and had to hold himself in check, because right at that instant, all he could think of was placing his lips softly against her own and kissing away all her hurt and pain. Trying to make her forget
the horror she’d lived through.
And that definitely wouldn’t be the sort of appropriate bedside manner she’d been referring to, or something she would appreciate. Not that he’d ever allow himself to take advantage of her. He couldn’t do that to anyone as vulnerable as she was, and besides, she was Connie. The imp who had always followed him around as a girl. He would protect her to his last breath. Even if it was from himself.
“You’re a survivor, as much as you might not believe it now, but you are.”
She squeezed his hand slightly and cleared her throat. “Perhaps,” was all she would allow. “But I’m going to make certain of it from now on.”
He raised a brow. She sounded suddenly very determined, and there was that glint in her eye she always used to get as a girl when she was going to ask him to do something that she was sure he’d say no to. But he’d never really been able to say no to a determined Constance, not when she had her mind set on something. “What are you thinking?”
She bit the side of her lip before sitting up and turning toward him. “I want to learn how to fight properly, and I want you to teach me to do it, plus how to defend myself.”
“Oh.” He hadn’t anticipated that request. Absently, he rubbed the stubble that had grown on his chin and fleetingly realized he needed to shave.
Teach her how to fight? He supposed he could do that. Though the thought of the physical touching that it would entail was sending a huge red flag flashing across every part of his self-protection system.
He knew it was a good idea if she knew what to do, and it would probably stop her from freezing the next time she was confronted with a dangerous situation. But the very idea of getting closer to her was troubling, and troubling in a way he didn’t really want to analyze.
“Very well, I’ll teach you.” His voice sounded like sandpaper.
A smile slowly spread across her face. “Thank you, Alec.” She carefully pushed aside the blanket and began to stand.
Alec helped her to her feet and couldn’t help but notice how small her hands were in his. “Do you think you’ll be all right to leave now?” He needed to get out of this tight space with her. It felt as if the walls were closing in on him, surrounded by her scent and very essence.
“I do,” she replied, smoothing down the skirts of her dress and cloak.
“Come on, then.” He took her hand and led her around the bags and boxes scattered about the room.
“Here we go!” Mr. Middleton boomed loudly as he walked in, carrying a bottle of liquid in his hands with a flourish. He stopped suddenly. “Oh, you’re going, then?”
“Yes, we need to leave,” Alec confirmed.
“Thank you for all your help, Mr. Middleton,” Connie said. “Your wife and children are indeed lucky to have you.”
The man looked somewhat flustered with the praise. But Connie did have that effect on men.
“Do you have a back door?” Alec asked him.
Mr. Middleton nodded, and a few moments later they were bidding the man farewell from the back alley of the shop. Alec took a moment to carefully survey the nooks and shadows of the laneway, and when he was satisfied no one was lying in wait, he reached out his hand toward Connie, who took it without hesitation.
They set off down the street, and Alec made a beeline for Doctor Howlett’s. The sooner they got some answers, the sooner they might get to the bottom of why two men seemed to be chasing them, and not to apprehend Connie to charge her with murder, either. Those men hadn’t been police officers, and Alec wondered if it was the same two men who had been observing them from the trees on their way to Inverness.
And if so, what the hell they wanted, and who had sent them…
Chapter Twenty
Walking alongside Alec, Connie and he crossed the road, heading for Doctor Howlett’s rooms. Hopefully the doctor wouldn’t be done for the day. Though if he was, he might live above his surgery, as most doctors did in the city, as it meant they were easily able to be found in emergencies.
Connie still couldn’t entirely shake the embarrassment from earlier, even though Alec’s words and the sincerity of his tone had done a lot to help. And now that he’d agreed to teach her how to fight and defend herself, she was feeling more empowered. She would embrace his lessons with all she had, because she was never going to freeze in fear again. If he’d been hurt, she wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself.
Especially as he was here only because of her.
For a minute she wondered if she had been stupid to not flee to London, and her brother’s town house, as fast as she could. She’d be arriving there tomorrow, most likely, and then she would have been safe, though probably always then branded a murderess.
No, she’d had to stay. It was the only way she could exonerate herself and find the evidence that pointed to Fergus killing Duncan. For it had to be him. He was the one with the most to gain. But still, Alec was right—why would Fergus use his own name when getting the medicine made? It didn’t make much sense. She prayed the doctor would be able to shed some more light on it.
That’s if he was prepared to talk to them. Which was probably unlikely. Most doctors had high ethics, and though they’d ask him about the prescription for Fergus, Connie had started telling herself not to get her hopes up. But the closer they got to the doctor’s rooms, she couldn’t help a little part of her getting excited with the possibility that they were a step closer to pinning down their quarry.
Her freedom, though seemingly elusive at this point, was slowly starting to feel as if it was in reach.
They turned down Tettenham Road, and before Connie could even count the numbers, they were standing outside of number twelve. The surgery was on the ground level and had a neat little sign with Dr. Howlett printed in bold stenciling affixed to the front door. The town house itself looked very quaint, though somewhat run-down, as most places in the neighborhood did.
Alec walked slightly ahead and pushed open the door.
Stepping into the entrance, Connie immediately noticed a lady sitting behind the desk at the back of the room. She looked extremely harried and restless, and Connie guessed she must have been working all day. There were two other people in the waiting room to see the doctor. One just a boy, and the other a man who had a mottle of bruising and cuts along his face and some dried bloodstains running down the collar of his shirt. She had enough experience with dried blood on clothing to easily recognize it.
Connie listened as Alec explained to the woman that they needed to see the doctor. The woman herself gave them a thorough once-over and simply nodded to some spare chairs beside the unlit hearth. “You’ll have ta wait until the others see ’m first.”
Thirty minutes later, the doctor’s office door finally opened, and the last of the doctor’s patients left, followed by a man in a white jacket with a stethoscope hanging from his chest. The man looked very dignified in his bearing, with his snowy white hair and smooth-shaven cheeks. He was also somewhat taller than average, though not as tall as Alec. He glanced across at them and waved them into his consulting room.
The man was in his late fifties, Connie guessed, and wore an extremely kind and caring expression on his face. He looked a lot less intimidating than Alec did, and Connie wondered if Alec’s strength and brawn scared many away, especially in his profession. She rather suspected it did. He was a very big man, after all.
But then as soon as Alec smiled, she imagined whomever he was smiling at would be put at ease immediately. It’s how she felt whenever he flashed a grin at her.
Alec motioned for Connie to precede him into the room while he followed behind her.
“Good afternoon,” the doctor said, closing the door behind him and indicating to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please sit. I’m Doctor Howlett, and how can I help you both today?”
Alec pulled out the small dropper bottle from his pocket and placed i
t on the doctor’s desk. “Well, you could start with telling us why a medicine that you prescribed was just a few days ago used to assist in murdering the Duke of Kilmaine.”
…
“I beg your pardon?” The doctor’s voice was incredulous as he stared first at the bottle and then back up to Alec.
Alec supposed he probably should have introduced himself first and led into the conversation with slightly more subtlety, particularly when he saw Connie wince beside him. But he’d never been very good at tiptoeing around issues, and in his experience, putting someone on the spot often elicited a much more honest reaction.
“Doctor.” Connie’s calm voice broke through the terse silence. “Please forgive my friend. But perhaps it was the pressing urgency of the situation that had him forgetting his manners somewhat.”
Alec felt like grumbling that it had been strategy and not a lack of manners, though he stayed silent, letting Connie take the reins. She did, after all, have a way about her that made people feel comfortable, and she was a lot more aware of social niceties and conventions than he himself could ever be bothered to be.
“Perhaps we can start again and introduce ourselves properly,” Connie continued. “I am the Duchess of Kilmaine, and this here”—she motioned with her head to Alec—“is Doctor Alec McGuiness, second son of the Earl of Caldwell from Clan McGuiness.”
The doctor eyed them both extremely warily, his shoulders and jaw tense as he sat in his chair. Then he turned and stared solely at Connie. “Your grace,” he acknowledged. “And your husband is dead? Murdered, even?”
Connie nodded. “Two days past. And unfortunately, it appears that whoever murdered the duke may have used a sedative you prescribed to immobilize him and myself, before carrying out the deed.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” the doctor said. “Though I must admit, I’m not sorry the duke is dead. But I don’t know what the devil he’s talking about, suggesting I had anything to do with it, even remotely!” He was glaring at Alec with mistrust.