As the evening progressed, Charlotte realized that not one man had made advances toward her. Had she imagined her near-kiss with Graham? If it had happened then wouldn’t he be trying to marry her? Not once had marriage been brought up at her visit to Fairfield Manor. No wonder she felt so comfortable. For once, she wasn’t being accosted.
She knew she tempted fate, but she couldn’t seem to help but bring up the conversation herself. “I must ask. How do four eligible men find themselves all unwed?”
None of the men volunteered right away and Charlotte shifted uncomfortably. It was another rude question. Why did she keep forgetting her manners here?
Nick spoke first. “I am but two and twenty and have all the time in the world.” He waved his hand in an airy way and laughed. “But you’re right, some of my brothers are getting a little crusty.”
Good-natured grumbling rumbled through the room, then Will spoke. “I will see the manor set to right before I marry. I want to give my wife and children a good life.”
Tom nodded. He clearly agreed, but Graham said nothing. Charlotte couldn’t seem to help herself. She looked over at Graham. “And you?”
“I don’t know that I will marry.” Graham shrugged.
Charlotte felt disappointment course through her. So he was a rake. She should have trusted her first instincts about him. But his next answer rocked her.
“I am the third son and unlikely to inherit. I have only locksmithing and war to fall back on. I don’t know what I might possibly give to a woman.”
Charlotte’s mouth hung open. The answer was so honest; it completely shocked her. He was not at all like the men who loved only themselves. It would never occur to one of those men that they didn’t have enough to give a woman. This man was completely unselfish.
She blushed from his answer and her response to it. “I have pried. I’m sorry.”
His eyes danced. “Not at all, my lady, but the question must be returned. Why have you not married?”
Why didn’t he call her Charlotte? She stared into the depths of his brown eyes. He had answered honestly; she would do the same. “I want to marry for love and I want a man who loves all of me. I like working with orphans. I like being in the country. I don’t want to spend all of my time attending parties in London. I am waiting for the right man to come along who will share that life with me and not just insist I live life his way.”
“Your father is fine with that?” Disbelief laced Graham’s voice.
“No, he isn’t. He is entertaining suitors but…” She waved her hand. Hesitation and a hint of fear laced her voice.
“But what?” Graham leaned in, pressing her for more information. She could see the concern on his face.
“The only serious suitor has been the Marquess of Huntly. I don’t think my father is seriously considering him. He is a little disconcerting and he has managed to scare any other suitors…” Charlotte realized she was revealing too much. “I am being silly.” She waved her hand.
“We know the Scot you talk about. There are dark rumors that surround him. I am surprised you traveled this far north.” Baron Fairfield looked deeply concerned.
“Doesn’t he live on an island? I will travel nowhere near him—” Charlotte’s words were abruptly cut off.
The front door of the manor burst open and a messenger bypassed the aging butler. “A message for the lady.” The messenger hurtled into the room as if demons were chasing him. His eyes were wild with fear. He stopped abruptly in front of Charlotte. Then he dropped a letter onto Charlotte’s lap. He sprinted back out as if the devil were nipping at his heels.
“How strange.” Charlotte turned to the men in front of her.
Baron Fairfield looked over her shoulder. “It bears the seal of the Marquess of Huntly.”
“And we were just talking about him.” Charlotte felt a chill run down her spine.
“Lass, forgive an old man, and open the letter in front of us or don’t open it at all.” The baron stepped in front of her to give her some privacy rather than reading over her shoulder.
“Why?” The letter seemed to burn into her hand.
“The marquess is said to possess dark magic. It can’t be proven, but it’s a damn coincidence that you said his name and the letter appeared.” The baron’s voice was grim.
Graham stepped on the other side of her. Without thinking, she reached for his hand and squeezed it. She suddenly wished she had already married. Charlotte could use the protection a good husband would offer.
She let go of his hand and slowly, shaking slightly, broke the seal on the letter. She opened the flap, and unfolded the letter, quickly scanning its contents.
Charlotte gasped. “He demands my presence at his castle the day after tomorrow. He wants to discuss the terms of our marriage. He says that if I do not come to him, he will find me. He is threatening me! How did he even know I was here? How could he make such demands?”
Charlotte was unaware of standing but she found herself in the protective ring of Graham’s arms. Her own were wrapped tightly around his waist. Fear filled her mind. She looked up at him, desperate for more comfort but his face was grim.
“Could your father have made arrangements with him?” Baron Fairfield asked, concern creasing his brow.
“My father would never agree to give my hand away without consulting me and certainly not to him! We both agreed he was not a viable suitor.” Charlotte was afraid to say the marquess’ name. While it had to be a coincidence that the messenger arrived when she had said it, it made her uneasy to think of using the name again. She shivered despite the warmth of Graham’s embrace.
His thumb gently stroked her cheek while his hand rested along her jaw. “First thing in the morning, we will escort you home to the safety of your father. He will tell us if he wishes for you to meet the Marquess of…” He stopped saying the name as Charlotte shook her head violently. He nodded once to show he understood. “Tonight, Will and Tom will guard the front door and your window. Nick, you stay out back by the kitchen. Set the servants around the house. Father and I will stay outside her door. We will leave at first light.”
Charlotte leaned her head on his chest. Just this morning, she had asked if Graham was the useless son. Now she realized that the locksmith and soldier was the leader of this house in a time of crisis. At least in her crisis. He had saved her this morning and he was trying to save her again. She tightened her arms around him. His role here couldn’t have been more important.
“Is it possible to send a letter to my father telling him I am coming home?” Charlotte’s eyes were filling with tears. She lifted her head and looked in his eyes. His softened considerably as he brushed the tears away.
“Of course. But don’t mention the oddities of the messenger. Some things are best explained in person.” Charlotte nodded. She knew she should let go of him, but it felt so comforting to be held in his arms. She never wanted to leave.
As if he read her mind, he slowly removed his arms from around her and reached back for her hands, taking them off his waist. “Let’s get your letter done and pack your things.”
“All right,” Charlotte agreed but her feet were planted to the floor. Graham gently turned her and, placing an arm around her waist, began to propel her forward. Her hand found his and held it, drawing strength from him. She looked at the man next to her. Graham exuded masculine confidence. Despite the situation, it made her feel safe. It also made her tingle in ways she had never experienced before in her life.
Upstairs, Charlotte penned a quick note to her father and sent it with one of her servants. He was the fastest rider and would beat them to her home.
Another servant packed her things as Graham informed her entourage of the plans. The best riders would accompany her and the Fairfields straight to her father’s house. The rest of the servants and the wagons would make a more leisurely return.
“Lady Charlotte, try to get some sleep. The morning will come soon and the day will be long.” He gently
touched her shoulder.
“Graham, I don’t know how to thank you.” She lowered her cheek to touch his hand. Tingling sensations shot through her body.
He took her hand and kissed it. “You can thank me when I deliver you safely to your father.” With that, he was gone.
STEALING A LADY’S HEART
CHAPTER FIVE
Charlotte lay awake in bed for what felt like hours. Her fear over the night’s events turned in her mind. Mixed in with that was the sheer excitement she had felt at Graham’s touch. Finally, she fell into an uneasy sleep.
As she tossed in her bed, a strange noise permeated her sleep. It sounded like scraping or scratching and it seemed it to be over her head. She woke slightly but the room was silent.
She must have been dreaming. She closed her eyes determined to get more sleep. But then she heard it again, followed by a definite scrape. What could that possibly be? She sat up in bed. Suddenly the window began to open.
Fear paralyzed Charlotte. “Graham.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper.
The window opened wider and Charlotte saw a black gloved hand and then another. A whimper escaped her. She was torn between screaming as loud as she possibly could and hiding so that she couldn’t be found. But as the man entered her room another set of hands hit the window.
He was dressed all in black with a black mask and black gloves. It made him look almost otherworldly.
“We’ve been breached,” a voice bellowed from the ground.
The window burst open and men seemed to pour through the opening. Two more climbed in. A scream ripped from Charlotte’s lips. Four pairs of masked eyes turned in her direction.
Graham burst through the door with a raised sword. Two of the men peeled off the group towards Graham while two more headed towards her.
Charlotte couldn’t stop screaming as Graham swung his sword. A man in black dropped to the ground, but more were climbing in through the window.
Graham swung his sword again and another man dropped. But a man in black had reached the side of the bed and he yanked her off the side, dragging her across the floor. Graham doubled his efforts.
Another man grabbed her other arm as Graham killed two more assailants. Each of the men holding her pulled out a hook. She stopped screaming as fear overwhelmed her. But they reached out the window and hooked a rope. Then holding her, they jumped out the opening.
Charlotte screamed like she had never screamed in her life. While each of the men was facing forward, she faced back. They were grasping her upper arms and she dangled between them fifty feet off the ground. They slid quickly down the rope but she could see Graham’s outline in the window. He disappeared for a second and then reappeared with a hook in his hand. In an instant, he was out the window and sliding behind them. Hope rose in Charlotte’s chest.
“Shoot,” she heard Nick roar. She looked down to see Will and Nick directly below her.
“I might hit her,” Will yelled back following them with the tip of his drawn bow.
The ground was getting closer but so was Graham. She twisted her head to face forward. They were approaching the tree line. “Graham,” she yelled kicking her legs to try and free herself.
“Lift your feet,” he bellowed from twenty feet behind her. She did as he commanded without a thought.
The men clutched her tighter. Charlotte could hear their feet scraping the ground. She twisted again to see more men waiting for them at the end of the line. They finally came to a stop. Within seconds, she was ripped from the arms of the men holding her and trussed like a turkey. One man threw her over the saddle of his horse and the group took off into the night.
She saw Graham land on the ground as the horses kicked into a gallop. “I’ll find you,” he yelled as they picked up speed. She cried out, watching his shrinking form. In an instant he was gone from her view, swallowed into the night.
Charlotte did not have to think hard to know who was responsible. As she bounced along on the front of one man’s horse, she knew that the Marquess of Huntly had done this. What she didn’t know was why. Why was he so interested in her?
Charlotte thought back to the night they had first met. When she had arrived home, her father told her that Lord Bard, the Marquess of Huntly had requested her hand in marriage. She had been stunned. How could the marquess think they were a good match? What little she knew about the man, she disliked.
Her father had assured her that he would not marry her to the marquess but that it would be best if she picked a suitor. She had agreed to pacify her father. If Charlotte did need to pick a husband, she had many men to choose from.
The situation had gotten strange. Each of her potential suitors had fallen off. They had gotten injured, or sick, or fell in love with someone else. She hadn’t complained since she didn’t really want to be married to any of those men.
When Elizabeth requested she visit, Charlotte had jumped at the chance to leave, and her father had jumped to find her more suitors. She could have smacked herself. It was so foolish to run towards the Marquess of Huntly when she was, in fact, attempting to run away from him.
The air began to feel cooler, and Charlotte guessed that they were nearing the ocean. The water was heavy with moisture. The moonlight suddenly shone through the clouds and Charlotte could clearly see the beach and a boat ahead of her. Fear trickled down her spine. By water, they could be going anywhere.
The large ship was just out past the break. Three rowboats waited. She was tossed into the bottom of one, and they began paddling out to the ship. There was a puddle of water that quickly soaked her nightgown and she was half frozen. Her teeth chattered from the cold and the fear.
No one had spoken a single word and that somehow made it more frightening. They were efficient and cold. Charlotte fought back tears as they bounced over waves. She held out hope that Graham would appear, but he did not. Despair engulfed her.
They reached the side of the ship and she was roughly grabbed and loaded onto the boat and pushed into a cabin. At least here she was not sitting in a puddle of water. But she was cold and alone and tears fell in earnest down her cheeks. She bit back a sob; she didn’t want them to hear her cry. Her hands were still tied behind her back and at least thirty men on the boat with her. There was no way to escape.
Finally, the voices of sailors penetrated the dark. Somehow, hearing voices bolstered her spirit. Commands were given, and Charlotte heard the sails unfurl as they quickly set sail. She could hear the rush of the surf.
Charlotte awkwardly moved into a sitting position. She sat for a long time listening to the water. No one appeared and she could hear no more voices. Loneliness filled her. She closed her eyes and remembered how it had felt to be held against Graham’s strong chest. As the time ticked past, Charlotte’s eyes grew heavy. She drifted in and out of sleep.
When the night was at its darkest, the sound of voices once again pierced the deck of the ship. Charlotte jerked awake as the door of the cabin wrenched open. Two captors dragged her out onto the deck.
Charlotte fought to stay on her feet as she lifted her head and turned towards the land. A large castle seemed to rise out of the ocean and she could only guess that this was the home of the marquess. In the dark it appeared black and angular and it frightened her even more than the men who had captured her.
She was loaded onto another row boat. It was freezing cold here, and she shivered in the night air. She was still tied and in a thin nightgown. She knew the marquess lived on an island. Another wave of panic engulfed her. How would Graham save her here?
The thought startled Charlotte. She had only known him for a day yet she fully expected Graham to come for her. She had woken yesterday morning prepared to hate him. No, she was trying to hate him because she was attracted to him. There was a difference.
It was a moot point now because he was the only one that could possibly help her and she would give anything to be back in his arms. She might even marry him if she got out of this. She definitely
planned to spend more time touching him.
The men pulled her from the row boat onto the shore, and her feet dragged through the water. Charlotte began shaking violently. She tried to control it, but she was freezing and frightened. Two men hauled her up a large staircase that ended on a courtyard in front of a castle. The massive front doors opened. Even from this distance Charlotte recognized Lord Bard, the Marquess of Huntly. He was bold indeed to steal a duke’s daughter.
His black cape billowed around him, and the moonlight glinted off his dark eyes. “Good evening, Lady Beaumont. Good of you to come.”
Charlotte did not respond. It was absurd to exchange greetings like this was a social call.
The men unexpectedly released her and she dropped to the ground. She looked down at herself. Her nightgown was covered in blood. Her body was still shaking, and her mind was muddled. Had she been harmed? She tried to concentrate on each part of her body. While there was a general ache, she could feel no wounds. She could only assume one or more of the men had been injured and bled on her. It gave her some small amount of satisfaction that Graham had wounded them.
The marquess approached and she tried to get up but fell back down. She wanted to run, but her legs would not work. She was tied up, shivering and weak.
He stared at her with beady eyes. “There is nowhere to run. Don’t bother trying.” He came to stand over her. She shook more violently. “Washing all this blood off of you will be a nightmare.”
Was she supposed to apologize? Her anger at his comment made her feel less afraid. She almost laughed at the absurdity. Her chin tilted up in defiance. A gesture he clearly took note of.
“How many men did we lose?” Lord Bard looked away from her and addressed one of the men in black.
Once Upon A Regency Page 91
