by Lauren Smith
There it was again. Waverly warning them about Ashton. Her business partner had pitted her own family against the League. Something didn’t feel right. She ought to thank Waverly, especially since he’d sent her brothers to find her, and even more so since Ashton’s confession to Charles. But now she trusted neither Ashton nor Waverly.
Was Ashton really the cold, dispassionate seducer he claimed to be? Or was he the man she’d hoped he was? She honestly didn’t know, but she was never going to let her heart choose a man for her ever again. And she was definitely not going to trust any man as a business partner again.
I can play the puppet master just as well as he can.
Ashton’s words were damning. A good man, the one she had started to fall for, would not have said that. He would have been honest with her about her involvement with Waverly and asked her about it. He would not have seduced her and manipulated her into marriage.
Dear God…
“What’s the matter?” Aiden asked, stepping closer. “You’ve gone pale, sister.”
“Ashton wanted my property because I had Waverly as an investor.” She curled her hands into fists. “How could I be so bloody stupid? It was always about the companies. It was never about punishing me—it was about Waverly.”
This realization hit her like a slap in the face. Even when she’d believed Ashton’s motives were born out of revenge, he’d at least wanted her. But to ruin her and take everything she had simply to hurt another man…it was cold. Too cold.
I matter so little to him that I was not even the object of his vengeance, merely a pawn.
“Brock, I should like to go back to London—”
“No, we have to go to Kincade. At least for now. Waverly explained about Lennox and his League. They will come after you and try to take you back by force. London wouldn’t be safe. We can protect you better in Scotland. You’ll be among your own people again.”
“But my life is here now. I can’t leave it.”
Brook shook his head. “You can and you will. Anything you want to bring home, one of us can return for.”
“But my maid…” She couldn’t leave Claire behind.
“She will be fine, I’m certain. Listen, Rosalind.” Brock held her chin and forced her gaze his way. “We didn’t just steal you away from him. I left Lennox’s sister tied up and gagged in the library. That man will want to kill me after what I did to her.”
She stared at him, remembering what he’d said before they left Lennox House. “What do you mean by that? Is Joanna all right?” When he didn’t answer right away, she punched his shoulder hard. “What did you do to her?” Sometimes it was the only way to get a much bigger man to answer her.
“I may have…” He mumbled something, so she smacked him again. “Christ, woman, fine! I kissed her before I tied her up. The little bluestocking was sitting in a chair by the fire reading a book, and I may have gotten carried away.”
“You idiot!” she groaned. “Poor Joanna. You compromised a perfectly lovely young woman? You’re right, Ashton will want to kill you, and I wouldn’t blame him!”
“Compromise? It was just a kiss. It’s not like I tupped her.”
Brodie shifted restlessly. “Maybe we should push the horses until we can reach an inn and trade them. I think Brock’s actions have put us in harm’s way more than we anticipated.”
Rosalind had to agree with that. Brock had kissed Joanna and left her in a frightened state of being tied up and gagged. If Rosalind had learned anything about Ashton it was that he loved his family and would do anything to protect them. Or avenge them.
Rosalind sighed. “Brodie’s right. We should keep moving. Ashton will be after us the moment Joanna tells him what happened.”
She would have to leave Claire behind for now, but she could send for her once she reached Scotland.
What a bloody mess.
*****
“Where has Rosalind gone off to?” Ashton grumbled as he climbed out of bed.
“Who cares? The woman is trouble.” Charles tried to shove Ash back onto the bed when he swayed unsteadily.
There was a fuzziness in his head he couldn’t shake. He needed to see Rosalind. Something in his gut clenched, a primal warning sign that something was wrong.
“Let me up. I need to find her.” He struggled against the blankets and his friend’s hands. He wasn’t going to admit to his friend that he was worried she would leave. He’d begun to open his heart up to her, and if she decided to go back to London because he kept shutting her out, she would never trust him. He couldn’t forget the hurt look in her eyes when he’d demanded that she leave him and Charles alone. He needed to find her and have a moment to explain everything.
“But—”
“No!” Ashton nearly fell out of bed, and Charles caught his left arm, holding him up.
“Help me with my boots. I must find her.” He panted, trying to catch his breath as the room began to spin.
“Now that I won’t do,” Charles said with a scowl. “Because I’m not letting you leave the house.”
Ashton didn’t have the strength to fight him. “Fine. My slippers then. Help me find Rosalind. I have a strange feeling in my stomach.” He laid a palm over his abdomen as the muscles there clenched and knotted.
“Not so strange,” Charles said with a laugh. “You’ve barely eaten in days.”
Ashton gripped his friend’s shoulder. “This isn’t a joke. The last time I felt like this was the night you were in the river. Do you understand me?” How could he explain it? His instincts, ones he’d honed over the years and never ignored, were telling him something was wrong.
All color drained from Charles’s face. “I’ll help you look for her.”
“Thank you.”
They exited the room, and Ashton glanced about. It was quiet. The house had long settled in for the night. Even the servants had gone to their quarters.
“Should we try the kitchens?” Charles suggested.
“Yes.” They walked together in an awkward manner with Charles hovering close until Ashton regained some of his strength.
They were halfway down the stairs when they heard a muffled yelp from somewhere below.
“What was that?” Ashton asked.
“I’m not sure. Stay here.” Charles helped Ashton brace himself against the banister and then rushed down the remaining stairs and vanished into the corridor it seemed the sound had come from.
Ashton panted, his breath still painfully shallow as he descended the remaining stairs. If something was wrong, he wasn’t going to sit there and wait. Just as he reached the bottom, Charles returned with Joanna on his heels, holding a sash from her wrists.
“We have a problem,” Charles said.
Ashton glanced between his friend and his sister. “What is it?”
“It’s Rosalind. She’s been kidnapped,” Charles said. “By Scotsmen.”
Joanna dropped the sash at her feet. “Her brothers. One of them caught me in the library. I think he was searching for her and didn’t mean to find me. But she told me she likes her brothers. Why would they take her? Surely she’s in no danger…”
“They’ll take her back to her father.” The thought chilled Ashton’s blood.
“Is that bad?” Joanna asked, her eyes wide with concern.
Ashton rubbed his temples, suddenly even more weary. “It’s very bad.”
Charles stiffened. “How bad?”
Ashton met his gaze. “I wouldn’t put it past him to kill her. He’s a brutal man by all accounts. We must leave for Scotland tonight.”
“But you’re ill,” Joanna added. “Charles can go, can’t you?”
“No. I have to go.” Ashton breathed. “I swore to Rosalind I’d never let anyone hurt her, including her father. The things he did to her…” He shuddered. “It doesn’t matter if she’s been helping Waverly. I have to save her.” He stared at Charles. “Please…help me.” He never begged anyone in his life for anything, but he was willing to now.
“The fact that you thought you had to ask…” Charles growled. “Treacherous or not, she’s still a lady.”
“We must leave at once.” Ashton’s legs shook, but he refused to let Charles and his sister see how weak he really was.
“Sit down before you fall down, you bloody fool,” Charles snapped. “I’ll handle this.”
Ashton crumpled onto the stairs, relieved for once not to be in charge.
Charles turned to Joanna. “Have the coach pulled around and have the kitchens prepare food for travel. I’ll get our clothes and wake Jonathan.”
Joanna hurried off toward to the back door that would lead to the stables and Charles rushed up the stairs, leaving Ashton alone, feeling too weak and too damned lightheaded to be of any use. He was staring at the front door when he heard the rap of the knocker. Glancing at the grandfather clock against the wall, he realized how late it was in the evening. Too late for visitors.
Rap-rap.
He climbed to his feet and went to the door, leaning heavily against the solid wood as he opened it up.
“Good Lord, man, you look dreadful. Did we wake you?” Lucien asked, his face peeking through the opening. “Hope it’s not too late.”
“Not at all,” Ashton said, out of reflex more than anything. He stumbled aside, allowing Lucien to come through. Cedric and Godric followed behind.
“We did wake him up,” said Cedric. “I told you we should have stayed at the inn and come in the morning.”
“Sorry about the hour, Ash.” Godric slapped him on the shoulder. The gentle pat sent Ashton stumbling into the door as his body gave out.
Cedric caught him just before he could fall flat on his face. “Ash?”
“What’s the matter?” Godric asked.
“Sorry, I can’t—” His ears started ringing, and the world spun around him.
“Someone hold him…” The voice came through a distant fog, and he struggled hard but fell headlong into blackness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lucien leaned over Ashton’s body. “Good Lord. Is he dead?”
“Help him up, you fool.” Charles hadn’t gotten back in time to stop his friend’s fall, and Lucien’s joking tone was about as ill-timed as humanly possible. “It’s the grippe. Rafe brought it home. They have both been sick the last few days.” Lucien got down and helped Godric hoist Ashton up by his arms and legs.
“The grippe?” Godric paused. “What the devil was he doing out of bed?”
“It wasn’t my intention, but we’ve had some problems,” Charles explained as they carried Ashton back upstairs.
“Problems?” Lucien asked they followed Charles into Ashton’s chambers.
“Yes.” Charles walked over to the dresser where a basin with cool water was waiting for him. He wet a fresh cloth and placed it on Ashton’s brow. “You see, Rosalind—”
Jonathan skidded into the room. “The coach is waiting in the front. We’ll catch those Scot bastards!”
This only confused Godric more. “What the devil are you on about?”
Jonathan glanced at his brother then back at Charles. “You haven’t told them?”
Charles shook his head. “I was about to.”
“Then get on with it already,” Lucien said.
“It’s the bloody Scots,” Jonathan blurted before Charles could say a word. “They tied up Joanna and kidnapped Rosalind and are heading back to Scotland. We were about to go after them.”
Charles stared at Jonathan. “Thank you, Jon. Did I miss anything?”
“Hold on…” Godric paled. “The Scots. Rosalind’s brothers?”
Charles checked the cloth on Ashton’s brow. “We have to go after her.”
“Tonight?” Lucien asked. “We only just arrived. The wives will be here tomorrow afternoon…”
Charles leaned against one of the bedposts, more weary than he’d felt in years. It was a bone-deep exhaustion that threatened to drag him down. But he had to stay on his feet, like his father had taught him. To do what’s right, no matter the cost. Too bad the man had been a bloody hypocrite.
“We have to go,” Charles said. “Rosalind is being taken back to her father. We can’t let that happen. I swore to Ashton I would help bring her safely home.”
“Why?” Lucien asked. “What about her father is so terrible?”
Charles opened his mouth to speak, but Ashton’s exhausted voice came from the bed.
“He’s a brutal man. Rosalind married the late Lord Melbourne to escape the man’s tyranny.”
Ashton was sitting up, his eyes still a bit glassy and his breathing shallow.
“Easy, old boy.” Charles pressed him down into the bed. It scared the hell out of him when he saw Ashton collapse beneath the gentle pressure. It seemed the grippe was getting a second wind in him. He’d never seen his friend so weak, so helpless, with his gaunt face and pale skin. Ashton had always been the strongest of them all, the one with the most control. But now he seemed weak as a babe. It sent shivers down his spine to think that Ashton might not get better.
“So we need to catch up with three angry Scotsmen?” Cedric asked. “I guess I tempted fate this morning when I promised Anne a quiet week in the country.”
“The coach?” Ashton asked Charles.
“Outside,” Charles said.
“Have Lowell pack some clothes for me.” Ashton lifted his body up again, and Charles and the others kept a close eye on him.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Godric asked.
Ashton nodded. “She needs me.”
Charles shared glances with the rest of the League. It wasn’t going to be easy talking Ashton out of coming, not when a woman’s safety was involved. Particularly a woman Ashton had feelings for.
“It wouldn’t be the first time we rushed headlong into danger without proper rest or a decent plan of attack,” Cedric mused.
“Our plan,” Charles cut in, “is to catch up with those bastards on the road and beat them to a bloody pulp.”
“Not much of a plan,” said Godric.
“Well, I’m all for beating up bastards, but we won’t catch up with them if we take the coach,” Lucien pointed out. “And Ashton can’t possibly sit a saddle.”
Godric crossed his arms. “He has a point.”
Charles knew that if Rosalind’s father scared Ashton to the point where he was this desperate to get to her, it was bad. Very bad. Few things in the world frightened Ashton. If he was scared about something, then the rest of them should be terrified.
“A few of us could ride ahead,” Jonathan suggested. “If we catch up, we could find a way to delay them.”
“Yes.” Charles nodded. “They have to close their eyes and sleep sometime.” He rubbed his hands gleefully at the thought of matching his strength against them again in a fairer fight. “We also know which way they’re headed.”
“Go now,” Ashton said, his voice hoarse as he coughed. “Please. We’ll take the coach and follow you. I’m sure they’ll take the Great North Road. It’s the fastest. It leads straight to Kincade lands, about an hour north of Gretna Green.”
“Jon.” Charles grinned. “Up for a wild chase?”
Jonathan grinned back. “If I ever answer no to that, you have the liberty to strike me down.”
“Then let’s ride. These old maids”—Charles nodded at the others—“can catch up with us later.”
“Ha-ha,” Cedric snapped. “I can’t wait for you to find a wife. Then I shall have the pleasure of mocking you for being an old maid.”
“Then you will be waiting until Judgment Day.” Charles was still snickering as he ducked out of Ashton’s bedroom and into the corridor, with Jonathan on his heels. They had Scotsmen to chase and a lady to rescue.
*****
For two days Rosalind slept on the cold, hard ground. Even the sacks of grain had been better than this. Shivers racked her body beneath the thin blankets her brothers had packed. Mostly she just lay there, aching for someone she
no longer had. Or, if she was brutally honest with herself, had never had. And every moment she despised herself for that weakness.
I shouldn’t long for a man who viewed me as nothing more than a pawn.
When she closed her eyes and curled up in her blankets close by her brothers and listened to the wind whistle through the trees, she could feel the phantom press of Ashton’s lips on hers. The memories, too vivid not to be real, made her body tremble with longing and her heart bleed all over again.
Damn that bloody Lennox to hell for making her long for him, for her body and soul to ache to be with him, even when he didn’t care about her at all.
I’m a puppet to him, nothing more. So why does it hurt to leave him behind?
“Sleep, Rosalind.” Brock’s voice came from somewhere in front of her. “We’ll reach home in a few hours after the horses have rested.”
It irritated her that he was likely watching her sleep. Her brothers had split the nights and days into watches among the three of them. She’d volunteered to help, but they all scoffed at the idea that their sister should have to stand watch. From their stiffness that first night, she knew she’d wounded their male pride. Such fragile creatures, men. She nuzzled her face in the crook of her arm, trying to force herself to drift back to sleep.
When dawn arrived, Rosalind was fuzzyheaded with sleep and every muscle was stiff from lying on the ground. She climbed to her feet and stretched, trying to loosen up. It had been a long while since she’d had a cold, long night such as this.
“Here.” Aiden handed her a slice of brown bread and some hard cheese, and she accepted them gratefully. She watched her brothers ready the horses while she nibbled on her breakfast.
Again she was overcome with the eerie sense she was traveling with three familiar strangers. They were taller and broader than she remembered. Their voices were lower and their laughter hardier. It was a curious thing to watch boys become grown men in the blink of an eye. It made her ache for the time she’d lost with them, even though it had been necessary for her own safety.