Page 79 of Foolish Bride
When they separated, all three were teary-eyed.
Tabitha dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “He’s asking for you, Michael. He won’t rest until he sees you.”
Kissing Mother’s cheek before he left the room, he took the steps two at a time. He reached the landing and sprinted down the hall to the room Everett and Sheldon shared.
Everett looked tiny in the bed.
He ached seeing his brother sickly, but it wouldn’t do to show weakness. He took a deep breath. “You gave me quite a fright, boy.”
Everett opened dark eyes ringed an even darker purple. “Me too.”
Michael’s chest tightened painfully. He might have lost his brother. He moved into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “I am terribly glad that you’re going to be all right, Everett. I do not know what I would have done…”
Everett gripped his arm with surprising strength. “I know, Mike.”
Their eyes met, and Michael saw a man before him. He loved his brother and he’d come close to losing him to an idiot. It could have been one more tragedy caused by his desire to have a title. One more item on the list of why he shouldn’t have taken that last assignment.
“Lady Elinor? No one will tell me anything.”
“Roxton took her, and we have not yet found them.”
Everett’s eyes closed in what looked like pain. “I am sorry, Mike. I tried to stop them.”
“I know you did. None of this is your fault. We are going after them now. I just wanted to see you before I left.”
“You’d better go, then,” Everett said.
Michael squeezed his brother’s arm, then on impulse dropped a kiss on the boy’s forehead.
Everett looked stunned, then he smiled.
“I’ll see you when I return.” Michael rushed from the room.
* * * *
The sun slipped lower on the horizon to Elinor’s left, so she knew they traveled north. Her bottom ached from the poorly sprung carriage and worn cushion. It had taken hours to become accustomed to the stench of sweat and cloying perfume.
As if it wasn’t enough to be kidnapped, Roxton never stopped talking and never said anything of any interest.
“Pardon me, Mr. Roxton, but where are you taking me?” She interrupted his monologue about how long it had taken to make his coat and how many stitches were in each sleeve.
His lips twisted unhappily, but then he smiled, showing his horribly crooked and yellowed teeth. “Home, of course. Technically you should address me as your grace, but since we are to be married, I shall forgive this cut and permit you to call me by my Christian name.”
He did not supply her with the name, and since she had no intention of using it, she continued on as if he hadn’t mentioned it. “You have a house in the north of England?”
“In Scotland,” he said.
“Not Kerburghe. Surely you can’t be mad enough to take me to property not your own.”
His hand jutted out before she could defend herself. His meaty fist wrapped around her throat, and his feted breath assaulted her senses. She scratched at him, but he held tight, cutting off her air. She continued to fight him, but he was far stronger than he looked.
“It will be mine soon enough, and so will you.” He released his hold.
She gasped for air, clutching her throat. It was foolish to underestimate him. He had kidnapped her, shot poor Everett, and stolen Kerburghe. The man was insane.
Elinor made a list in her head of things she might do to free herself: Jump out the door. Scratch Roxton’s eyes out. Feign illness. None of them were good ideas, but they kept her mind occupied.
Elinor sat in silence until they arrived at an inn. She was ordered to remain in the carriage while the horses were changed. A terrified-looking young girl placed a hot brick at her feet. Elinor stared at her, hoping to convey that she wasn’t traveling of her own free will.
