The Smuggler's Captive Bride Read Free

her brother told her that he hadn’t been able to communicate to Hamilton?
    Hamilton needed to know the answers, so he’d abandoned his men as they unloaded casks of brandy and hid them in the caves on the cliffs above the beach. Hamilton had to follow the woman.
    The taproom was empty. Not even Ernest stood before the fire that sputtered on the hearth, and Hamilton’s gaze probed every corner as he scraped mud off his boots. Then the innkeeper bustled out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. “Hey, what are ye doing out tonight?” he demanded roughly. “Ye know—”
    Hamilton swept his hat off and Ernest stopped in his tracks. Something that looked like horror flashed briefly across his rotund face, then his expression cleared and a slow grin built. Hurrying forward, he took Hamilton’s cloak. “M’lord. How delightful! M’lady assured me ye’d arrive.”
    “M’lady?”
    “Lady Hamilton arrived yesterday, but said she didn’t expect ye for several days.”
    What was the man babbling about? His mother was dead, his grandmother seldom left the manor, and they were the only noblewomen Ernest called M’lady . In a neutral tone, Hamilton asked, “Didn’t she?”
    Chuckling, Ernest slipped behind the bar and opened the tap on a cask of Hamilton’s favorite ale. Brown liquid splashed into the mug while Ernest said, “Aye, ‘twill be a surprise sure to please her. Almost as pleasant as the surprise ye’ve given us.” He winked and passed Hamilton the glass. “Marrying the young lady, and at Gretna Green, too! We’d never have thought it of ye, m’lord, but when love strikes as sudden as all that, a man’s got to leg-shackle the heifer before she’s had a chance to think.”
    “My opinion exactly.” Hamilton kept his face carefully blank. He’d come in, furious and determined, and been knocked completely awry by Ernest’s babblings. Now he found he was supposed to have married — and at Gretna Green.
    But to who?
    Could the answer be a hoped-for stroke of luck?
    Taking a chance, Hamilton used her name. “Did … Laura … mention this to many people?”
    “Nay! Lady Hamilton was as discreet as ye instructed, and told only me.”
    So it was Laura who awaited him in the bedchamber above. Of course, she didn’t realize her lord would ever truly arrive.
    A slow smile curved Hamilton’s mouth.
    But perhaps these events could be turned to his favor.
    “So only you know this?”
    “Ah …” Ernest swabbed the length of the bar with a rag. “Well, to tell ye the truth, m’lord, word seems to have got out in the village.”
    “Now, how did that happen?” As if Hamilton didn’t know.
    Ernest scrubbed harder and with guilty fervor. “But of course the women wondered, and I gave ‘em one little hint, and before I knew it — “ He flung up his hands in a helpless display. “Ye know women, m’lord. They’re terrible gossips.”
    “Yes. There’s nothing worse than a terrible gossip.” Hamilton clutched the handle of the mug and wished he could clutch Ernest by the throat with equal fervor.
    The whole village knew that their lord had supposedly married?
    Miss Laura Haver had a lot to answer for, and the list grew with each passing minute. “Gossip can be the cause of a lot of trouble. Did my lady happen to tell you why I wasn’t with her or why she didn’t go on to Hamilton Court when it is so close?”
    “Aye, m’lord, she told me everything.”
    Ernest beamed with pride at being trusted with so many secrets, yet at the same time lines of worry marred the baby-softness of his skin and his dark gaze darted toward the kitchen as if he perceived danger within. Hamilton had never seen him look so beleaguered, and that gave him pause. In his business, he recognized the signs of a traitor, and he softly paced back to the bar and leaned on it. “Ernest, have you got a problem you’d like to discuss?”
    Hamilton well knew the power of his gaze, and Ernest cowered, then dropped his rag