“I’ll stay on the landing,” she whispered. At least that way she would be halfway between Darien and Melody. Darien gave her a final silent look and crept toward the kitchen. From the sounds of it, someone rummaged through the cupboards, banging pots in the process. Darien paused in the doorway and lifted the musket to his shoulder. “Who goes there?” “Darien?” Ivy didn’t recognize the man’s voice but he had a strong Scottish accent. “It’s Collin. Collin Jacobson. I was a friend of your brother’s. We met once or twice.” Darien lowered his weapon. “You’re a horse breeder. My father bought one of your stallions.” Barking dogs sounded in the distance, along with the shouts of men. Ivy came down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen. A tall man with reddish brown hair stood in the kitchen with his hands in the air.
