Page 112 of Wicked Rivals
“Thank you, Brock,” said Rosalind. “I couldn’t imagine you all not being there. Not now that we’ve been reunited.” Ashton couldn’t miss the little catch in her voice. She recovered and sniffed. “Now, Ashton and I must make plans to return to his estate and then to London.”
Ashton nodded, clutching the letters that would condemn Waverly, and he held on to Rosalind with his other hand.
The group of guards in the foyer started to shift as though ready to leave, but one man, half hidden in shadow, stepped more clearly into the light.
“I would offer congratulations, Lady Melbourne, but I’m afraid I have my orders. Where are the letters?” The man’s Welsh accent was unfamiliar and put Ashton on edge.
Everyone tensed and no one else moved. The man was thin and muscular, with a face cut from stone and dark eyes.
“The letters. Give them to me.” The man’s voice was dispassionate, reminding Ashton of another man, one from his nightmares.
The letters were still in his hand, half hidden by his hip, but he knew if he dared to move, the man would sense it and spot them immediately.
“Letters? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rosalind’s tone was perfectly innocent, but she moved a step closer to Ashton.
The man raised his pistol, his dark hair threatening to fall into his eyes. In unison the other men in the hall raised their weapons, training them on Rosalind, her brothers and Ashton. This time it was Ashton’s turn to stand in front of Rosalind.
“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Aiden growled. “You work forus. We hired you to protect us and our sister.”
The leader of the men smiled, but it was one of cruel amusement. “And we’d have served you faithfully. But it seems she no longer wishes to be protected, and we have higher orders. Now, Lady Melbourne, the letters, if you please.”
Ashton considered the odds, and they were not good. He was certain that more than a few would die if he and Rosalind’s brothers chose to fight. Those were odds he was not interested in.
He held up the packet bound by twine. “I have the letters.”
Rosalind stiffened beside him, her hand squeezing his.
The man grinned. “Well, hand them over, Lord Lennox.”
“And let you shoot all of us afterward? I’m not a fool.”
The man’s smile turned into a sneer. “What’s to stop me from shooting all of you and taking the letters?”
Ashton raised his chin, his voice taking on that commanding business tone that he was well known for. “Because you’re a smart man. Hugo wouldn’t have trusted such a task to a fool. Murdering Lord Kincade, his sister and brothers in their own hall, as well as myself, will bring forth such an outcry for justice that Hugo will abandon you to the law and let you allhang.” He finished this last word with such force that no man in the room dared to breathe for a moment.
Hugo’s man considered this, his eyes darting from Rosalind’s brothers to Ashton and finally the letters. He nodded.
“What do you propose?”
It took much of Ashton’s willpower not to sag with relief. Any sign of weakness could still get them all killed.
“I will walk with you outside. Once there, once I am assured of the lady’s safety and that of her brothers, you may take the letters from me.”
“Ashton, no!” Rosalind cried out, but he kept her behind him. He would do his best to stay between her and any pistols. He turned toward her, wishing he could steal one last kiss before he went outside to an unknown fate.
“Stay here. I need to know you’re safe.”
“We are in this together, remember?” Her sweet defiance warmed his heart.
“I remember. But you must learn to trust me. Now is one of those times.” He stared meaningfully at her.
Rosalind narrowed her eyes, a hint of tears glinting in them. “Be careful. If you get hurt, I will wring your bloody neck.”
Lord, he loved this woman.
“Understood, madam,” he teased her before he turned back to Hugo’s man, and all merriment vanished from him.
The man jerked the muzzle of his pistol from Ashton to the doorway. “This way.”
