Page 71 of Any Rogue Will Do
A fire roared in the hearth, providing warmth for the couch that had been pulled close to the fireside. Lounging under a blanket, reading a book, was Lottie. Steadying himself with a hand on the doorframe, he let the relief roll over him as he drank her in. She was here. Safe. Reading, of all things.
An incredulous smile split her face before she threw the blanket aside and launched herself from the couch. “Ethan!”
He met her halfway, swooping her up in a hug and burying his face in her hair. Relief stole his breath, and the broken mess of his heart calmed somewhat when she clutched him as if afraid to let him go. She may not love him, but she didn’t hate him, and he’d have this one last hug. He skimmed his hand up and down her spine in a soothing stroke, and she responded by tightening her grip.
Except, this was all wrong. No matter how strong the urge to hold her close and never let go, their relationship was a thing of the past. As if the letter had never happened, she’d slipped into place under his chin, where she fit like a puzzle piece. Those dark curls he loved frizzed in a halo around her head, then knotted into a tangled braid down her back. The gown she’d donned almost forty-eight hours before was a mess, yet she managed to be the most beautiful wreck he’d ever seen. But she wasn’t his. With slow, measured movements, Ethan untangled her fingers from around his neck and stepped back.
Rather awkwardly, Lottie pushed her hair off her face and tried to set herself to rights, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not sure what’s appropriate, given our new circumstances, but I am happy to see you.”
The feet between them felt like miles. Speaking past a tight throat, Ethan asked, “It’s no’ my business, but are you…Did he—”
Staring at her feet, she shook her head. “Montague has much to answer for. But I am safe and relatively untouched.”
Part of the worry nested in his chest unraveled. “Where is he?”
“Unwell at the moment. I planned to set off on my own at daybreak.”
“Can’t say I’m unhappy he’s sick. Although it puts a wrinkle in my plan tae beat him tae within an inch of his life.”
“He’ll be back to his evil self in a day or so. We only poisoned him a little. Mrs. Mitchell made an excellent accomplice.”
“Poisoned him? Of course you did.” In spite of the heartache, she made him laugh. “You’re brilliant, lass, but you’re also a wee bit scary. Well done.”
She wrapped her arms around herself instead of him. “I, ah, I didn’t expect you to come for me. Not after my letter.”
“Yes, your letter.” Peeling his gloves off one finger at a time, he tried to find the words to address the situation. “I’m not here tae press my suit, lass. We both know that’s over. Darling told me you’re going home, so I’ll see you tae your father safely.” The earl would probably love the opportunity to share his thoughts on Ethan’s presence in Lottie’s life, face-to-face. “I’ll let the others know where you are.” Turning to the door, he focused on the metal doorknob instead of her as he spoke. “Engaged or not, I’d come for you if you needed me, Lady Charlotte.” Best to get back in the habit of addressing her properly. She wasn’t his anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning dawned with a heavy gray fog over the landscape. Lottie said goodbye to Mrs. Mitchell, thanking her again for her help, then joined Ethan and Lord Carlyle.
“He’s under guard. Last time I checked he was a sweaty, foul mess, drooling on his pillow. The man snores like some kind of wild animal,” Lord Carlyle said.
“Not all men make those noises when they sleep? I had wondered.” They turned to her with twin aghast expressions. “I’ll take that as a no. Ethan—I’m sorry—Lord Amesbury, I’m ready to leave when you are. Darling and Aunt Agatha are already in the carriage.”
Amesbury turned to Lord Carlyle. “Three days. That should give him time tae recover sufficiently for travel. Hire a carriage and meet me in three days.”
“Agreed. He wanted to go to Scotland so badly. Who are we to say no?” Lord Carlyle grinned.
“Where are you taking him?” Lottie wasn’t sure why she cared in the grand scheme of things, with so many other issues to worry about. Ethan’s gentle rejection last night still hurt.We both know that’s over.She’d broken them.
“We’ll bring him tae my village near the Solway Firth. I have a plan tae make sure he never touches another woman.” Amesbury’s thunderous expression would inspire fear in anyone. Anyone but her.
When he’d walked through that door last night, there’d been a moment when all was right in the world. The thump of Ethan’s heartbeat had sounded like home, and none of the events of the last few days had mattered one whit. He’d smelled of cold air and smoke.
Then he’d stepped back, and reality had reared its ugly head. Ethan wasn’t hers. He wasn’t even Ethan anymore. And that was her fault.
“I’ll see you in the carriage.” Given the mad clash of emotions warring within her, retreat seemed the best option.
Her maid sat beside Agatha on the plush seat, which thankfully smelled worlds better than the prison carriage of the last few days. “Darling, how is your head?”
Lottie had learned last night that Aunt Agatha had supplied Darling with regular draughts of willow-bark tea to make travel slightly less torturous, since, surprising no one, the maid had insisted on joining the rescue party.
“They didn’t manage to knock it off my shoulders. Hurts like the devil.” Darling touched the spot on her head with a wince. Darling’s pallor remained ashy, highlighting the livid bruise on her head, and a scabbed cut in her hair.
“Stop touching it, then,” Agatha huffed. Her godmother seemed thinner after the last several days of stress, although blessedly solid and, well, Agatha.
“Auntie’s right. Don’t touch it. I worried about you, you know.” Lottie checked the doorway at the inn. Amesbury’s shoulders filled the space as he paused to fasten his coat and run a hand through those curls she loved so much.
