Page 101 of Wicked Rivals
“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 shelikesher 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 toask…” 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
