Page 39 of One Wicked Secret
Elsa glanced at the shelf she had searched earlier. “I think so. I recall seeingVathekand the first volume ofThe Fateful Revenge.”
“We need to locate them and take them to Thorncroft,” Daniel said, confident they would find them in the library. Jacob Tyler wished to ensure the reason for this list would be revealed.
Rothley was already scanning the books on the lower shelves. He found the complete volume ofThe Old English Baronand placed it on the desk. “There’s an identical copy on the shelf.”
“We’ll take the one that has her mother’s new ex-libris inside,” Daniel said before climbing the ladder while Elsa recited the list.
The books weren’t buried beneath the floorboards but hidden in plain sight. There were two copies ofFrankenstein, only one with the tome and quill plate.
Within half an hour, they’d collected all nine books.
“What now?” Rothley said.
“We return to Thorncroft, get some sleep, and tackle the puzzle tomorrow. Rutland has a fondness for riddles.”
Sleep would elude him again tonight. How could he rest, knowing his wife was alone in bed mere feet away? With the trust gone, desire was the only thing holding their marriage together. Yet they both lost control at the first sign of intimacy.
Daniel grabbed the leather satchel from the chair and stuffed it with the Gothic tales. “Let’s find your coachman before the trespassers return.”
Rothley gave an amused snort. “If I know Kincaid, he’s given the thugs a good beating and is swigging brandy to numb the pain of a broken knuckle.”
Kincaid wasn’t nursing a broken knuckle but was in the mews, sitting atop the carriage box and sipping from a hip flask. “We’ll have nae more trouble tonight, m’lord. Those yellow-bellied louts ran like the devil was at their heels.”
“Tell me you got answers before they fled,” Rothley said.
“Aye, they swear the owner of the house hired them to keep intruders out. Another man was watching the house, but he vanished a week ago as if the mist had swallowed him whole.”
“That will be the runner I hired.” Daniel hadn’t received his regular update from Tanner, nor had he run into him the last three nights they’d spent searching the rooms at Edenberry. “I expected to find him patrolling the grounds. I’ll make enquiries in town tomorrow.”
“Perhaps he encountered the hired lackeys and—” Rothley stopped abruptly when his coachman muttered a curse.
Kincaid grabbed the reins as the horses began stamping restlessly, their heads jerking in sudden fear. He called tothem in Gaelic, but the sharp crack of a gunshot pierced the night, drowning out the sound.
Daniel instinctively reached for Elsa, but he was too late.
Her shrill cry rent the air as the bullet struck her. She jerked back in pain, her knees buckling when she clutched her arm and saw blood coating her palm.
“Elsa!” Daniel caught her, sweeping her into his arms, his voice raw with panic as he called to Rothley. “Help me get her into the carriage! Hurry. Before the bastard reloads and fires again.”
But the sound of retreating footsteps suggested the felon had taken flight.
“I can catch him,” Rothley said, slipping a blade from his boot.
“No! We leave now.” He looked at Elsa, terror striking his heart as her face turned ghostly pale. “We can’t afford to waste another second.”
The fear that had crushed him six months ago held him in its sharp talons. He could lose her—the only woman who mattered, the woman he’d vowed to protect.
“Hold on, Elsa.” His pulse was a furious drum in his ears. “We’ll be home soon. Please hold on.”
Chapter Eight
The room was filled with his scent—rich like exotic spices, warm like the earthy notes of cedarwood, and something unique Elsa could never identify.
Even with her eyes closed, she always knew when Daniel entered her bedchamber. His footsteps carried the unease of a man crippled with guilt. His cologne masked the smell of herbs from the poultice. The smoky aroma of alcohol lingered on the bandage, and on his breath when he leaned over to kiss her forehead.
Countless times, she’d tried to open her eyes but failed. Now, the heavy fog clouding her mind had lifted. Her body no longer felt anchored to the mattress, although her left arm was a dead weight.
She wiggled her fingers, pleased the pain was bearable.
