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“No? A mistake on his part, I think. You and your sisters are, er . . . quite creative, if the rumors about you are true.”

“Rumors are never true, Lord Ballantyne. Now, if you’d be so good as to unhand me, perhaps we might discuss this like rational adults.”

“No, I don’t think so, Miss MacLeod. Not until I have a few concessions from you. You did try to poison me, after all.”

She hadn’t tried to do a thing. In hindsight, that was a mistake. If she had poisoned him, she’d have done a proper job of it, and he’d be unconscious or dead, and she wouldn’t be trapped on this bed with a haughty marquess on top of her.

Mercy, in the end, was nothing more than a wasted opportunity. It was something to keep in mind for next time. “Very well, my lord. What is it you want?”

“I already told you, Miss MacLeod. I want three-quarters of the treasure you have hidden in your castle.”

Cat almost laughed. Three-quarters of nothing, then. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I’m afraid we’ll have to make our way to the magistrate. Tedious business, dealing with magistrates, but I imagine he’ll be interested to hear all about how you attempted to poison me.”

“You followed me into the woods, Lord Ballantyne. You chased me and grabbed me. Whatever may have happened after that is your own fault.”

“Do you suppose the magistrate will see it that way, Miss MacLeod? There’s no proof that I followed you. Gentlemen are known to take a stroll through the woods on occasion.”

“Not in those boots, they don’t.”

“As for my grabbing you, it’s your word against—”

“My word happens to be the truth .” Her hands curled into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. “You’re a liar, my lord, and a scoundrel, a cheat—”

“What did you poison me with, by the way? Was it whatever was inside the package Glynnis Fraser gave to you in the mews behind the apothecary’s shop?”

The apothecary’s shop? What did that have to do with . . .

Oh. Oh, no .

He’d seen her in the mews with Glynnis! She stared at him, her chest tightening with panic. He hadn’t just followed her into the woods, then. He’d been following her since she first arrived in the village this morning!

This was much worse than she’d imagined, a nightmare.

“I daresay I’m not the only one who saw that exchange.

What did she give you, Miss MacLeod? Cantarella?

No, that can’t be it. I’d be dead if it was.

Well, no matter. I daresay Bryce Fraser will be happy to explain to the magistrate that you visited his shop today and spoke privately with his sister. ”

Oh, he would be. Bryce would be more than happy to cause her trouble.

“One need only look into your basket for proof that you had the means to poison me, Miss MacLeod.”

He wasn’t as clever as he imagined he was. He didn’t know about the monkshood, and he wouldn’t get anywhere with her basket. “Look all you like, my lord. You won’t find any—”

She broke off, horrified. He would find poison in her basket.

The pennyroyal oil.

It had been a perfectly harmless purchase, but it went without saying that her protestations of innocence would fall on deaf ears. She could get rid of the pennyroyal oil—toss it into Loch Dunvegan—but even that wouldn’t save her.

She’d been seen entering the apothecary shop by dozens of people. Not just Lord Ballantyne and Bryce Fraser, but Mrs. MacDonald, and every gentleman who happened to look out the window as she’d passed Baird’s Pub.

Then, mere hours later, a marquess had been poisoned.

Those facts alone were more than enough to arouse suspicion against her.

Lord Ballantyne and Bryce Fraser could say whatever they liked about her, claim whatever madness they could dream up, and the magistrate, Mr. Alexander, could choose to believe them and do whatever he wished with her. Any words she uttered in her defense would count for nothing.

As for the truth, it would dissolve in the face of all the lies, disappear like a sandcastle swept away by the tide. No one would listen to her. No one would believe her. No one would stand up for her. She’d be locked up until the next assizes, and what would become of her sisters then?

She had no power at all.

Useless tears of rage and frustration sprang to her eyes, but she held them back, sucking in silent, desperate breaths until the pressure eased and she regained control over herself.

She’d be damned if she let him see her cry.

She had to get to Freya and Sorcha, and tell them . . . tell them . . . God, she didn’t know! If there was a way out of this, she couldn’t see it.

But one thing was certain. The mighty Marquess of Ballantyne wasn’t likely to be pleased when he discovered he’d come all the way to Dunvegan because of a wild rumor. And who would suffer the brunt of his displeasure when he realized he’d be leaving here as empty-handed as he’d come?

She and her sisters, of course.

She had to get free of him, now . There was no time to waste.

Without warning, she surged upright, wrenched her arm free of his hold, delivered a stinging slap to his cheek, and tried to scramble off the bed.

His head snapped back from the blow, but it didn’t startle him into releasing her. Instead, he caught her by the shoulders and flipped her onto her front, so she was splayed across his lap, his thick thighs under her belly.

Oh, dear God, she was on his lap . Had anything ever been more humiliating than this?

“That was a mistake, Miss MacLeod.” He threw one heavy arm across her back. “You only delay the inevitable and annoy me in the process.”

She twisted and arched and wriggled like a fish on a hook, kicking and thrashing to escape, but it was no use. He was simply too big.

“Have I mentioned, Miss MacLeod, that I can be quite unpleasant when I’m annoyed?”

“Do you imagine you’ve been charming up to this point, Lord Ballantyne?”

“It gives me no pleasure to manhandle you, Miss MacLeod. Come now, we both know you’re not going anywhere, and I’m growing weary of these antics.”

God above, the man had the nerve to sound bored!

This was all merely a game to him, but for her, Freya, and Sorcha?

It was their lives.

She slammed her fist into the mattress, an impotent howl of frustrated rage on her lips.

“I can’t think why you’re so angry, Miss MacLeod. I’m the injured party here. If I’m willing to overlook your attempt to murder me, surely you can see your way to—”

“Murder you! I never—”

“I beg your pardon, but you certainly did. I confess I do feel a bit guilty having to involve poor Glynnis Fraser in this sad business. I daresay she didn’t know you’d poison a marquess once you left her shop, but she did hand you the weapon, nonetheless.”

Lord Ballantyne didn’t say so aloud—no doubt he fancied himself too much of a gentleman to threaten a lady outright—but he didn’t need to.

His meaning was perfectly clear. He’d see Glynnis sent to the gaol right along with her, and God help them both, then.

It was over. The Marquess of Ballantyne had her right where he wanted her. There wasn’t a thing she could do, not without implicating Glynnis, and that . . .

No. That she would never do.

She closed her eyes and rested her cheek on the coverlet, all the fight draining out of her.

“Nothing to say, Miss MacLeod? How curious. You were so chatty before.”

Why, oh why had she ventured into the village today?

Freya had been right all along. Nothing good ever came of it.

Their luck just kept getting worse, and it was bound to get uglier before it was finished.

Lord Ballantyne could do whatever he pleased with her, and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop him.

“I’m waiting, Miss MacLeod.”

Waiting for what? He already knew he’d won. Men like him always won. “Very well, my lord. It seems you’re determined to have your way.”

No matter if he had to lie and cheat to get it.

“Well, I can’t deny that I do like to have my way.”

Of course, he did. All aristocrats did. Why should he be the exception?

“But just so there are no further misunderstandings between us, Miss MacLeod, is this a surrender? From now on, do I have your word that you’ll do as I say?”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll do as you say.” Until she could find a way to gain the upper hand again, that is.

“How generous of you. But then you’re a reasonable young lady.” There was a brief pause, then he shifted, and the weight of his arm disappeared. “I knew all along you’d come to your senses.”