Page 74 of Claiming His Scottish Duchess
Alone and unescorted.
“In which direction did they go?” Richard barked, his voice strained, his gaze piercing. “Which part of the gardens? I need to know where they are!”
“Towards the rose arbor, Your Grace,” Mr. Johnstone replied, oblivious to the panic seizing in Richard’s chest as he looked at Mrs. Jennings curiously, as if she might know the answer. “I believe Her Grace mentioned it was particularly lovely this time of year.”
The rose arbor was a more secluded spot on the property, out of view from the main estate. Richard didn’t wait for another word. He spun on his heel, his long strides eating up the distance back to the stables.
“Boy, fetch my horse!” he shouted as his jog hastened to a full sprint.
He nearly knocked the boy over as he grabbed the saddle, throwing it onto the steed with desperate urgency. The leather creaked under the force of his movement as he pulled the fastening tight.
Without a command, the horse sensed its master’s frantic need for speed. Richard spurred the animal forward, galloping across the lawn as the wind whipped through his hair.
All he could see was Catriona, her beauty and fire, flashing before his eyes. He thought back to that day in the park, so long ago. He could still see her holding that pistol, ready to take on whomever would harm Lydia.
And Lydia.
His heart ached at his own foolishness in not listening to Catriona’s warning, blinded by his own grief and arrogance. He had dismissed her instincts.
He urged his horse faster, the pounding of its hooves a frantic drumbeat against the rising panic in his gut.
He had to reach them. He had to protect them.
For they were his whole life.
“Move,lassie,” Lord Mortridge’s finger tightened around the trigger. “Is that how you want the young girl to spend her last moments? Seeing her favorite lady bleed out on the grass?”
Catriona could see in his eyes that he was prepared to silence them both once and forever. She knew that look too well, thinking back to the thug in Hyde Park. Too much trauma had befallen them, and she could not take any more.
What do I do, Faither?She asked in desperate prayer.Please, if ye can, send me some hope. Some sign of what to do.
Suddenly, a loud sound cut through the stillness of the woods that jolted her. It was the unmistakable thunder of a horse at full gallop.
Lord Mortridge’s head snapped up from his prey, his eyes narrowing and distracted by the sound.
“Who’s out there? Speak now!” he shouted, touting his gun in front of him and finger on the trigger. “I’ll shoot!”
Through the trees, a dark figure on horseback burst into view. It closed the distance with alarming speed, like hell on horseback.
Richard!Catriona screamed, her body almost limp at the relief of her husband’s appearance.
“You think your valiant husband can save you now, some old-fashioned knight in shining armor?” Mortridge snarled as he swung the pistol towards Catriona now, his face inches from hers. “I am afraid there are no happy endings in this story, Your Grace. Stop, or I’ll pull this trigger right now.”
Richard reined in his horse just paces away, looking down at the harrowing scene. His eyes were dark and desperate, locked solely onto Lord Mortridge.
“Why did you kill my brother, Sampson?” Richard’s voice was raw, not angry—just broken.
Catriona had never heard him sound like that. And perhaps that frightened her most of all.
The man across from him only shrugged. “He asked too many questions,” he said with a sneer. “Was poking his nose in places it didn’t belong. He became a loose end.”
His gaze flicked past Richard, landing on her and Lydia.
“Loose ends do seem to run in the family.”
Catriona’s heart shot into her throat. She felt Lydia press closer to her legs, clutching her skirts like a lifeline. And that sound—that small, breathy whimper—cut through her like a blade.
Nae more.
