Third Son's a Charm

by Shana Galen

  “We’ll let the locals deal with him. Help me tie up these two.”

  “Three,” Jasper said, hauling the guard over. “Not a bad bit of work.”

  But the woods were too quiet. The damn dog had stopped barking. He looked toward where Jasper and the guard had fought.

  No fur ball.

  “Where’s the dog?”

  Jasper gave him a skeptical look. “How the hell do I know?”

  Ewan turned a circle, scanning the entire clearing and the side of the gardener’s work shed for a bit of white and brown fur.

  “I could use some help here,” Neil said, knotting the rope he’d pulled from his pack. Jasper bent to help him secure the men who’d abducted Lady Lorraine.

  “Where’s the rum mort?” Jasper asked.

  “I told her to run.”

  “Good. I’ll track her, and we’ll have her safe in no time.”

  “I have to find the dog.”

  Neil wiped his brow. “What dog?”

  “Her dog. I promised I’d bring it back to her.”

  “Tell her we’ll find it in the morning,” Jasper said.

  “No.”

  “It’s a dog, Ewan. It will be fine outside for one night.” Neil tightened a knot on the ankles of one of the men. “We have to find the lady, send the constable this way, alert the magistrate, and I wouldn’t mind a drink and food.”

  Ewan continued searching the darkening garden for the dog.

  “It’s a dog!” Neil said again.

  “She does love that dog,” one of the abductors chimed in.

  “Shut up.” Jasper kicked his foot.

  “I promised,” Ewan said.

  Neil held up both hands. “Fine. Let’s find her and take her to safety, then you search for the dog while we deal with the law officers.”

  Ewan’s gaze swept the area one last time before he gave a reluctant nod. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  She couldn’t run any further. Her side felt like it had a knife plunged in it, and her feet stung from the sharp rocks and twigs. She didn’t see how her flimsy slippers were any better than bare feet, and she promised herself the next time she took Welly out for his nightly constitutional, she would wear boots.

  Thick boots.

  She leaned against a tree, lifted a foot, and rubbed at the raw skin. It was too dark to see much, now that night was falling, but she could feel the torn flesh. She lowered it and reached for the other when a dark shape stepped out of the trees in front of her.

  She screamed, but the sound was immediately cut off as a hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Quiet,” that voice she knew so well growled in her ear.

  “Ewan,” she said, or at least tried to say. He lifted his hand, and gestured to the man who’d stepped out of the foliage.

  “Mr. Grantham.” He gestured to another man she hadn’t even seen beside him. “And Mr. Wraxall. Good friends of mine. You can trust them.”

  “You’re the men who saved me,” she said.

  “The Protector saved you,” the one Ewan had called Wraxall replied. “We just came along for the entertainment.”

  Lorrie looked at Ewan. “Where’s Welly?”

  He sighed, his face looking pained. “I don’t know—”

  She gasped. “He’s lost? We have to look for him!” Her heart started thudding painfully in her chest again, and she tried not to imagine her poor puppy alone in the dark, scared and cold. “I’ll look this way.”

  Before she could start searching, Ewan grabbed her arm. “I will find the dog. You go with Wraxall and Grantham. They’ll take you to Edgware and find a room where you can rest.”

  She clutched his arm. The prospect of Ewan in the dark scared her as much as Welly, lost and alone. “No. I can’t let you go alone.”

  Ewan gave her an impatient look. “Wraxall and Grantham have to find the law officers. Three of the four men who abducted you are tied up in the gardener’s work shed. You aren’t dressed for a walk through the woods. I’m the only one who can go.”

  As much as Lorrie worried about Welly, she couldn’t allow Ewan to walk away. Anything might happen to him, and she needed him. She needed to wrap her arms around him and close her eyes and feel safe once more. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel safe again, but she knew in Ewan’s arms, she had a chance.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered.

  A man cleared his throat behind them. “Ewan, are you coming or not?”

  Ewan’s gaze flicked to the speaker and then back to her.

  “Not.” He removed her hand from his arm. “I promised I would bring you that dog.” And he walked into the night.

  * * *

  The inn Ewan’s friends had found was clean and quiet. Lorrie had been pleasantly surprised to discover they had horses tethered nearby. They’d wrapped her in a blanket, helped her mount Ewan’s horse, and taken her straight to the inn. Grantham had secured the best room, while Wraxall had hurried her in through a side door, the blanket pulled over her head like a cloak.

  She’d wandered into the room, which was spartan but clean, feeling lost and disoriented. She had no luggage to unpack and put away in the bureau, no letters to write at the little table. The bed looked comfortable enough, but how could she sleep while Ewan and Welly were both out wandering in the cold and the dark?

  The dark-haired Mr. Wraxall cleared his throat. He had been kind, but he did not seem to know what to do with her. Not that she blamed him. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

  “I will order you supper and warm water. Is there anything else I can do for you at present?”

  She shook her head. “No. You have done too much already. Thank you, Mr. Wraxall.”

  He inclined his head. “It was my pleasure, my lady. Grantham and I will pay a visit to the constable and the magistrate. I don’t anticipate we shall be away more than an hour at most, but these things do take time. For your own protection, I ask that you stay in your room. I will check on you when I return.”

  “And Mr. Mostyn?” She clenched her fingers together. “Will he know where we are staying?”

  “If he returns before we do”—his tone indicated he thought this unlikely—“he will have no trouble finding you. Ewan is not the dolt some people think him.”

  “He is no dolt at all,” she said.

  He gave her a small smile. “I see you know him better than most. You needn’t worry, my lady. Nothing will happen to Mostyn.”

  “If it does, I have no one to blame but myself. I don’t know why I insisted he go after Welly. I wasn’t thinking straight. He shouldn’t have listened to me.”

  “He would have gone after the dog even if you hadn’t asked. He cares about you. Love has a strange effect on a man—or so I have heard.”

  Lorrie felt a lump rise in her throat. “Love? He hasn’t said he loves me. Not even when I…” She broke off, aware she had probably already said too much.

  “Do you think he would go after anyone the way he did you?”

  “It’s his duty. My father—”

  “The duke could hire an army if he wished. Ewan volunteered, and when he came to our club and asked Jasper and me to help, we said yes without hesitating.”

  “You are loyal friends,” she said. “He is lucky to have you.”

  “We aren’t so loyal that we want to traipse about in the countryside for two days. But any man who knows him can see Ewan is in love with you.”

  Lorrie stared at him. Too scared to believe it to be true. She was afraid to hope, afraid happiness might float within her reach and then be snatched away if Ewan’s friends were wrong.

  Wraxall inclined his head. “I have stayed too long. I beg you give me leave to see that the men who abducted you are taken into custody.”

  “Of course. I await your return, Mr.
Wraxall.”

  He bowed and left her. Wraxall had very pretty manners to go with his pretty deep blue eyes. But she was thinking of eyes a lighter blue and a man not with raven black hair but cropped blond hair that gave him the appearance of a fierce Viking warrior.

  Supper arrived and she ate as much as she could stomach. Her belly twisted with worry about Ewan and Welly. She asked the maid who brought the soap and warm water to leave the food. Ewan and his friends would be hungry. Surely one of them would appreciate the food, especially as it was nearly midnight and the cook would be in bed before long, if she wasn’t already.

  When the maid asked if she could lay out a clean change of clothing, Lorrie was forced to admit she hadn’t anything but the clothes on her back.

  “If you have an old dress you don’t need anymore, I would be happy to pay for it.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry, now,” said the woman who was probably the same age as the duchess but looked ten years older. “I’ll find you something, my lady. It might not be as fine as what you are used to, but it will be clean.”

  “Thank you.” Lorrie lifted the clean towels from the chair where the maidservant had laid them. “And thank you for not asking too many questions. I know this is out of the ordinary.”

  “It’s none of my affair, my lady. None at all.” She left, walking briskly, no doubt in search of something that would fit Lorrie. Lorrie could only imagine what the woman must have thought. She had arrived in her nightclothes with two men as chaperones. Even if the maid was discreet, there was no way to keep some of the story from making its way to London. She would be quite the scandal, and depending on the way the gossipmongers spun the tale, she supposed she was ruined.

  How ironic that now that she did not court scandal or ruination in order to marry Francis Mostyn, she had finally achieved it. No man but the most desperate for her fortune would have her now. And she would not have any of them. She wanted to marry for love. If she couldn’t have Ewan, she wanted no one.

  * * *

  He found the fur ball. It was running about the gardens with its tongue lolling out of its mouth, investigating every blade of grass and leafy bush and marking his territory on all of it.

  The dog must have thought the evening’s drama a grand adventure. He hadn’t realized he was lost, or he didn’t care. And when Ewan tried to catch the little ball of fluff, he danced and ducked and darted out of Ewan’s reach.

  After thirty minutes of playing catch-me-if-you-can with the fuzzy demon, Ewan was hungry and thirsty. The dog probably was too. With a smile, Ewan retrieved a piece of cheese from his pack and offered the dog a small morsel. The dog snatched it and backed away. Ewan offered more and then more, slowly gaining the puppy’s trust until the fur ball was close enough that he could grab it. It gave a surprised yip, but ceased struggling when Ewan fed it another piece of cheese.

  Tucking the dog into his pack, he started back toward the village. He had no idea of the time, but he suspected it was close to morning. As he wasn’t far from the gardener’s work shed, he cut through the yard and noted Lorraine’s abductors were no longer tied to the nearest tree. Hopefully that meant Neil and Jasper had been able to find the constable and see the men locked up for the foreseeable future.

  It took him another hour or so to make his way back to the village. It wouldn’t have taken quite that long if he hadn’t made several wrong turns in the dark. Surprisingly, the puppy had fallen asleep in his pack, and the warm weight of him was calming against Ewan’s side.

  When he reached the village, a quick survey of the inns led him to the one he considered the fanciest. Jasper didn’t care where he slept, but Neil was more particular, and he would never have brought a lady to a second-rate establishment. Ewan tried the door at The Queen’s Inn, but it was locked and barred. He knocked and no one answered. He knocked again, louder this time, and heard a grumbling from inside. Expecting an irate innkeeper, Ewan blinked when Neil answered the door.

  He yawned. “I wondered when you’d finally make an appearance.”

  “Did I keep you awake?” He gave Neil’s sleep-tousled hair and half-lidded eyes a pointed look.

  “No, but your lady is probably pacing a groove in the wood floors.” Neil moved aside and Ewan entered the dark inn. In the public room, a lamp sat on one table and Jasper snored in a chair. Another chair beside it had probably been Neil’s bed.

  “Is Lady Lorraine hurt?”

  Neil shook his head. “She seems fine to me. She just about burst into tears from worry about you. Said she shouldn’t have asked you to go after the puppy. I told her you could take care of yourself.” He glanced up at Ewan. “And that love makes men do strange things.”

  Ewan stilled in the act of removing his pack from his shoulder.

  “Don’t tell me you intend to deny it,” Neil said. “Jasper and I can see it as plain as day. Rafe told everyone at the club a week ago, but we didn’t believe it.”

  Ewan simply stared at him. What the hell had Draven’s Survivors seen that Ewan himself hadn’t? How could they know he was in love when he didn’t even know himself?

  “So?” Neil asked after the silence had gone on for some time. “Do you love her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Jasper asked from his chair. Eyes still closed, he was obviously wide awake. “Hurry up and answer. I can’t sleep with all this twitter.”

  Ewan spread his hands, trying to find the words he wanted. “How do you know?”

  Neil gave him a horrified look. “How am I supposed to know?”

  They both looked at Jasper, who had slung his legs over the chair and stood. “You’re both idiots. This isn’t that hard.”

  “So you know?” Neil asked, crossing his arms.

  “I read,” Jasper said. “Don’t act so surprised. I’ve read novels, so I know the symptoms.”

  “The love symptoms?” Neil asked.

  Ewan wished Wraxall would stubble it so Jasper could describe the signs.

  “Right. When you’re in love, you feel sick to your stomach.”

  “That’s called the grippe,” Neil said.

  “Stubble it.”

  “What else?” Ewan asked. He did not feel sick to his stomach. He felt hungry, but then he was always hungry.

  “Your heart beats faster when you see the lady. You think about her all the time when you’re not together.”

  “This sounds like an awful affliction,” Neil said.

  “And you want to bed her. Desperately.”

  “I take it back,” Neil said. “I’ve been in love several times.”

  Jasper ignored him. “Any of those seem familiar, Protector?”

  “No.” They all seemed familiar. He was starving because he hadn’t been able to eat when he’d been worried about Lorraine and searching for her. He could always eat. He’d taken time out of a battle to eat during the war. His heart did thump harder and faster when he saw her. He thought about her all the time, usually about what he would do to her if he had her in bed. That was two symptoms in one.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “Best room,” Neil told him. “Upstairs, left, all the way to the end.”

  Ewan started for the stairs.

  “Do you need a chaperone?” Neil asked.

  “Hell no.”

  * * *

  Ewan stood outside her door, feeling his heart thump. Hell, he hadn’t even seen her yet. No nausea, but he wasn’t as hungry as usual. If he’d lost his appetite, the situation must be worse than he’d thought. He raised a hand to knock on the door, then considered the time.

  It was after two in the morning. She must be sleeping, and he didn’t want to disturb her if she was resting. On the other hand, if she were tossing and turning with worry, he wanted to allay her fears.

  He would not think abo
ut the sight of her tossing and turning in bed—her nightgown ruched up, her hair tousled around her rosy cheeks…

  Ewan knocked quietly. He’d wait ten seconds and if—

  The door opened, and Lorraine stood, wide-eyed and hopeful, on the other side. “You’re back!” She reached for him, but Ewan grabbed her wrist and glanced behind him to ensure no other doors had opened.

  She would wake the entire inn.

  He quickly pulled her inside and closed the door behind him, locking it. He was glad he had not waited until morning to see her. She hadn’t been sleeping. The bed was unrumpled and she wore an old green day dress that fit her a bit too snugly across her—and he had better look up at her face.

  Her long straight hair fell about her shoulders and down her back, a few strands still damp. The room was full of a scent that reminded him of rain and flowers, and it clung to her as well.

  “Thank God you are safe,” she said, lowering her voice but not her enthusiasm. “I was so worried, and I knew if anything happened to you it would be all my fault for sending you after the silly dog.”

  Ewan frowned at her. Now the dog she had made him promise to fetch was silly?

  She raised a hand. “Not that Welly doesn’t mean everything to me, but I would rather only one of you lost and alone in the woods than both of you.”

  “I was not lost.” He pulled the sleeping dog from his pack. “Or alone.”

  “Welly!”

  Ewan gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to put a hand over her mouth. Did she want the entire inn to know he was in her chamber?

  He handed the dog to her, and she cuddled it in her arms as though it were a baby. She buried her face in the dog’s fur, and when she looked up at Ewan, tears shone in her eyes. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  Hell, if he’d known she would cry about it, he would have left the dog until morning.

  She closed her eyes and rocked the dog. “How can I ever thank you?”

  “No more crying.”

  She burst out laughing, and the dog gave a loud snort of disapproval at being disturbed. With a laugh, she gathered a blanket from the bed, placed it on the floor near the hearth, and settled the dog on it. Ewan shook his head. Leave it to her to take a perfectly good blanket and throw it on the floor.