Chapter 16

Charlie. Charlie was here demanding my obedience to rise. But was he here because he was the traitor, intent on silencing me? Why would he have saved me from Liam's whip by taking me to the orchard then? Why wait?

Defiantly, I wrapped the covers closer, feigning sleep. I only hoped Lord Ashton held his patience long enough to determine Charlie's intent. What if the man was just trying to rescue me again?

"I said 'get up.' I have a horse waiting." This time he yanked my arm, dragging me up. I suppressed a hiss at the jarring of my shoulder.

"But sir—"

"Don't fucking 'but sir' me. I'm tired of you and your games. If you'd just run like I told you the last time you'd be Richard's problem by now, not mine."

I went stone still under his hand. Run...like the last time?

Richard. My mind slowly worked out exactly what Charlie was saying. Run, he'd told me. He'd released me, pretended to 'save' me from Liam's fury, only to be sending me to... Richard. Whose wrath would probably be worse than anything Liam could dole out.

The door slammed shut, cutting off the exit. We both jumped at the sound, Charlie spinning to the face the threat suddenly behind him.

"So you're Barrett's turncoat lackey. I trusted you. Row trusted you." Lord Ashton's voice resonated bitterly in the small room. "Hell! My father trusted you."

I was dropped unceremoniously as the two men faced off in the dark. I watched as Charlie squared his shoulders to face the viscount, knowing full well he'd been caught.

"Well, that was your father's mistake, wasn't it?"

"You vile—" I was sure Ashton was ready to kill with his bare hands at the implication. Could his father have been murdered? But the faint light from the moon caught the glint of something easing from the waistband in front of me.

A knife. Charlie had a knife.

And he was willing to use it on Ashton.

"No!" I yelled, lunging for the knife.

But Charlie had already whipped it forward, his arm swinging in a deadly arc toward the viscount. To my relief, Ashton caught Charlie's wrist, dodging the blade easily. He used Charlie's forward momentum to yank him off balance, shoving him into the wall. I scrambled to free myself of the blanket doing its damnest to restrain me, although I'm not sure what I intended to do.

Lord Ashton was slightly bigger than Charlie, possibly more muscled, but both certainly outweighed me. The urge to jump in and help was clawing at my insides, but I had no idea how, even as I was finally freeing my legs. The viscount had Charlie in a choke-hold and was attempting to disarm him. I had just managed to jump clear of the cot as I saw the knife glinting in the moonlight, still caught in Charlie's hand, which was restrained by Lord Ashton's tight fist around his wrist.

I lurched toward Charlie's hand, shocked by my own sudden courage—where the hells had that come from? I guess I figured that the viscount had the man restrained enough for me to help out by grabbing the knife. I reached with both hands, wrapping them around Charlie's massive calloused one, attempting to pry it from his fingers.

Yes, well, I've said before how weak I am, how pathetic. It clearly showed as Charlie managed to get my left hand to slip over the blade while he still maintained his fucking grip.

A small cry wrenched from my lips at the sting. Charlie chuckled at my feeble effort, even though he was being overpowered by Lord Ashton.

"Kye! Get back!" Ashton shouted at me, obviously thinking I was just getting in the way with my paltry attempt to help.

"What ya think ya can do, whelp?" Charlie's dark laugh echoed in the tiny room, his accent becoming thicker. "Ya think you's strong enough to rip this fucking knife from my hand? Ha! You won't get this, unless it's from my cold, dead fingers."

Lord Ashton's arm tightened across Charlie's neck. "That can be arranged."

Another manic cackle. "Do it. You's might as well. I ain't gonna be talkin."

No... no. I didn't want anyone to die, not even Charlie. He'd probably been manipulated by Barrett... I couldn't...

I jumped forward, grabbing his knife hand again, causing both men to startle—one to pause and laugh again at my puny attempt, the other to scowl and warn me to back away, get help.

Help. That's what I should have been doing—in afterthought. Surely someone was nearby I could wake...

But I'd already set myself on a mission when I jumped at Charlie the second time—to keep him from being killed and to get him to drop the knife.

I opened my mouth wide... and clamped my teeth in the fleshy edge of Charlie's hand... and held on even when I tasted a bit of blood.

The roar of pain Charlie let out reverberated throughout the room. The knife clattered to the stone floor as Charlie flailed his hand to get away from the pain of my teeth.

Ashton took advantage of Charlie's shock, at being actually bitten, to force him face down on the ground.

The door slammed open, Charlie's scream probably having roused someone nearby. I fell backwards on the cot, scrambling away from the avenging angel looming in the doorway.

"Kye!"

It took me a moment to realize the angel was Tareth. My brother looked torn momentarily between helping me and helping his lord.

I knew Ashton could't restrain Charlie forever without help, help that I'd neglected to go find. Thankfully, Tareth—

"My lord!" I jerked at another voice behind Tareth.

Samuel. Samuel rushed in past Tareth, jumping in to help Lord Ashton. Tareth cut one last quick look at me, still torn. I nodded quickly that I was fine, and he dove forward to help subdue the traitor.

"The knife," Ashton snapped in warning as Charlie was still scrambling to try to retrieve it. Tareth managed to kick it out of the room into the hall, well out of reach.

It was a little hard to see in the dark and among all the bodies, but I could still hear Charlie cursing and yelling. It appeared as if Samuel or Tareth had pulled off their belt to use to restrain Charlie's hands.

"I can't fucking believe that little cur bit me! Bit me!"

I curled into the corner of my cot, slowly feeling the stinging throb in my hand now that the excitement was over. I hadn't even realized that I had clutched the front of my shirt with it. Damn, how much trouble would I be in for ruining it?

I vaguely heard Charlie continue to thrash until someone managed to belt his ankles together as well. After only a few more useless struggles, Charlie finally went limp in defeat.

My breath, that I didn't realize I'd been holding, rushed out of me.

"Kye, are you alright?" Tareth was kneeling in front of me, but I could barely focus on him as I tried to get my breathing back under control. It was over, I told myself. It was over. Ashton was okay. Ashton was okay... wasn't he? I could see his back as he and Samuel made sure Charlie was suitably docile now that he'd admitted defeat.

Tareth gripped my face, forcing me to focus on him, alarm tingeing his voice. "Kye!"

At his yell, Ashton whipped his head around, worry etched in his eyes. Tareth shook my chin before I was able to break from my daze and manage to nod quickly, both at the viscount and my brother. "I'm fine."

Tareth wrapped me up in his arms as Lord Ashton refocused his attention on Charlie. "I knew this was a bad idea." Tareth was mumbling under his breath as he climbed up on my cot next to me. The thin frame creaked under our combined weight. I hoped it didn't break. I really didn't want to be sleeping on the hard stone floor.

"Sam, watch him a moment," Ashton ordered as he turned to me, and my eyes quickly raked over him, scanning for any tell-tale hint of blood or pain from the man.

"Kye." His deep resonate voice washed over me, calming me. He didn't sound hurt. Thank the Gods. "Kye, why... what possessed you to do that?"

Oh. Oh, hell. He was angry with me... for interfering, for getting in his way, for distracting him from his fight with Charlie. Oh, what if he was hurt? What if he was hurt because I'd distracted him? Oh, Gods...

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my lord," I rushed out, instinctively scrambling to pull away from Tareth, to get to the floor, to prostrate myself in front of the man, beg his forgiveness. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry..."

"Kye. Stop." My eyes snapped up to see his face inches from mine, squatting in front of me. I realized that Tareth had tightened his arm wrapped protectively around my thin shoulders, stopping my panic.

"I'm sor—" I tried again, but Ashton's finger on my lips halted my litany of apologies.

"Stubborn," he mumbled, but I heard a hint of mirth in his tone. "You could have gotten hurt. If Charlie had managed to get his hand free... Gods, Kye, you were standing so close... He could have seriously hurt you." His voice dropped to a hoarse growl. "He could have killed you."

"I told you I didn't like this plan. Sir." Tareth reiterated tightly.

I opened my mouth, stunned that Ashton wasn't angry I had distracted him. He'd been... worried?... for me? Well, damn him, he wasn't the only one. "He could have done the same to you," I finally countered.

"So you bit him?" the viscount retorted, his voice bordering on awe.

Tareth snorted in laughter next to me, his anger at Lord Ashton dissipating slightly. "You what?"

I frowned at both of them, irritated they seemed to be laughing at me. I'm sure it was the dark that helped me mask some of my impetuousness, hiding just how stupid I had been to the light of day.

"I'm sorry I didn't go get help," I confessed. "I just... I just didn't want him to hurt you... with the knife." I flexed my hand against my belly. I had been stupid. I knew that. "I know you are so much stronger, but he is strong too, and I... I... I'm sorry, sir."

"Kye," the viscount drew my attention back up to his shadowed face. "First of all, I've told you to call me Ash. Second, you are one of the bravest men I know."

My eyes shot wide. W-what?

Tareth chuckled again next to me. "That's for sure."

What the hell were they talking about? I wasn't brave. I was so fucking weak I crumbled under only twenty lashes. I was so frail my ribs stuck out from my skin. I was so cowardly I could barely talk, even when it had been demanded of me. I was weak and pathetic just like Master always called me, just like father would call me, just like...

"He always been so tough? Willful?"

I realized the viscount was asking my brother the question, yet it didn't make any sense. Tough?

"Hehe, yeah. We had to be, with dad. Dad was pretty... hard on Kye because he was so much smaller. He viewed it as a weakness. But Kye stayed tough, determined to make dad happy. Only... nothin' made dad happy. Not really."

Hearing Tareth talk about our childhood like that nearly broke me. I had no idea he'd thought I was tough. He'd always been protecting me, like he didn't think I could take care of myself. But now...

"We'll definitely be talking later," Ashton told Tareth, "but right now..." The viscount turned his attention back to where Samuel was guarding Charlie, who was still rigid on the floor.

"Where's Barrett?" Ashton's voice demanded, his voice reverting back to the commanding power of a noble.

Charlie sneered. "Like I'm going to tell you anything. I'm a dead man no matter what."

From the silence, I could tell he was right. Charlie had practically admitted some foul play in the elder count's death, and it was highly probably he was the one responsible for the death of the witness Lord Rowland had captured before. The tight shoulders and the harsh breathing from the viscount indicated he was trying not to kill the man right now.

"You can go to your grave knowing you took Barrett with you," Ashton added after a long moment. My breath caught in my throat; he really did plan to execute the man.

It almost seemed as if Charlie was considering it. Then his dark eyes snapped over to me, and his mouth twisted in an ugly snarl. "No. That whore ruined everything. I was going to be a Baron, have a real title and land. I'll go to my grave knowing Lord Barrett will squeeze the last breath from his miserable hide."

Tareth's arms tightened around my shoulders. Samuel's eyes widened and darted to me in fear. I can't say I was terribly surprised by Charlie's admission though. I'd always known the marquis hadn't intended my life to be especially long. But I had begun to think he had more urgent things to worry about than me now.

I couldn't tell what Lord Ashton thought of the admission since his back was to me, but I noticed his fist clenching and unclenching at his side in an effort to maintain control. "And where exactly were you taking Kye when you came to get him tonight?"

"Like I'd tell you."

Take me. On the horse.

Again.

I straightened abruptly, startling Tareth who I nearly hit on the chin with my head. "I know." The words nearly a whisper as the thought choked me—Charlie had already tried to deliver me to my death.

"What?" Tareth and Ashton asked nearly at the same time.

However, I focused on Charlie, who was glaring back at me, daring me to saying anything. But he couldn't hurt me anymore, and he had already hurt too many people in Lord Barrett's name—the elder Count, Lord Rowland, the poor man who'd been willing to talk... me...

"I—I know where he was going to take me."

"You know nothing, boy!" Charlie snarled, trying to dissuade me from talking. Of course, I could be wrong, and he was meeting Richard or Barrett somewhere else.

"Where?" Ashton demanded.

"The—the orchard. By the lake, sir." The brief flash of fear in Charlie's eyes before he managed to mask his reaction told me I was right.

"Ha! You know nothing," Charlie tried to deflect Lord Ashton's attention from me, make him doubt my words.

"Why? Why do you think that?" Ashton pressed.

"That's where he took me before. When you found me. This morning?" I frowned in thought. Had it really only been this morning? It seemed like so much longer. "He told me he was saving me. From master L-Liam. Told me to run." I drew my legs up tighter realizing just how close I had probably come to being back in the hands of my old master. Any punishment Liam had planned would pale in comparison to what Master would have done to me.

"There was a fire pit by the lake. He'd been there before, hadn't he? You—you were sending me to him," I breathed out.

"So much fucking trouble, you spleeny little brat," Charlie muttered under his breath.

"The lake," Ashton murmured, apparently thinking deeply before he whipped around in determination. "Sam. Gather the men, have them arm themselves from the stores. We'll search the woods and rout out the bastard."

No... I almost protested aloud. Barrett would hear so many men coming and run before they ever got close enough, wouldn't he?

"Yes, sir." Sam nodded and jumped up, ready to immediately to follow his lord's orders, hesitating as he glanced back at Charlie.

"He can stay in here. But get me a damn padlock for this door," Ashton ordered, and Sam grinned as he raced off to get one.

My eyes widened. They were leaving Charlie in here with me? I felt myself inching backwards, not that I had anywhere to go. Ashton leaned over distractedly as he continued to issue orders and picked up the discarded knife from the dark shadows of the hall, absently slipping it into the edge of his boot.

"Reth, go fetch Liam. He's with Row, but I'm sure he'd want to be involved in bringing down the bastard who nearly killed the man he loves."

His what? Liam was... in love with Lord Rowland? Understanding dawned as the reason the man was so volatile and determined to punish me became clear. The steward was hurting, badly, at the thought the man he cared so deeply for might have been killed. He wanted... no, needed... someone to blame, someone to take out his pain and anger on. That's why he'd been so eager and determined to flay me.

"Yes, sir." Tareth slowly moved away from me, obviously not wanting to leave me.

As soon as he disappeared down the dark hallway, Ashton waved for me to rise. "Come."

I didn't move for several moments, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. Come? He wasn't leaving me here? Where...? I slowly peeled myself off the cot, sliding a glance at Charlie. I flexed my sore hand. The fabric of the shirt was practically glued to my hand by my blood. Well, at least it had stopped the bleeding.

"I'll have someone take you up—"

"Sir!" Samuel ran up to the viscount with a padlock and key. "Here's the lock from the larder. Cook gave it to me when I told him what I was looking for, said he'd find another in the morning. Well, later in the morning."

Ashton smiled his amusement as he took the lock and key. "Good. Thank you. And thank you for your help with Charlie," Ashton continued. "I'm glad you were nearby. It's rather late to be out."

I could hear the hint of accusation in the viscount's question. Apparently, so did Samuel. He ducked his head, blushing. "I-I was heading back to my room... after—after seeing Alisha. I heard the shouts..."

Oh. I felt my own cheeks heat up. He'd been enjoying the sweet comfort of the arms of another who adored him. I wonder what that would be like?

"I see," Ashton smirked, a knowing smile tipping the corner of his lips. "Go get as many men as you can gather," Ashton ordered Samuel. "If Barrett or one of his men is on my land, we're going to flush him out like the mangy dog he is."

"But..." I blurted out before I broke off, biting my bottom lip. I shouldn't argue. I shouldn't even be speaking. Lord Ashton had to have broken something in me that I even thought that I had the right to speak up. Where the hell had my control gone? I'd never have considered protesting before today. What had Lord Ashton done to my discipline that I would think he'd even want—?

"But what?" Lord Ashton prompted gently. My head shot back up to him, surprised he'd even heard me. Both he and Samuel were looking at me intently. "Tell me, Kye. What are you thinking?"

I hesitated only a moment longer, fighting against the need to be silent ingrained in me by Master Barrett's cane. "Sir? Are you sure he won't run, hearing so many men coming?"

"He'll hear us no matter what. Our only chance is using a large number to swarm the woods and hope we catch him, whoever is waiting. Hopefully, Barrett himself."

"But..." I bit my lip. Maybe Lord Ashton was right, and that was the only way to catch the man. It's not like I knew anything about how to run a manor.

"Spit it out, Kye," Lord Ashton huffed, and I startled at his gruffer tone.

"I—I was only t-thinking that, well," I drew in a deep fortifying breath, steeling myself to speak, "Well, he's expecting Charlie to bring me... so he—he would be expecting at least to hear..." God, why couldn't I say it? I gulped in more air. "He'd be expecting at least to hear Charlie's horse coming."

"Yes," Ashton agreed slowly. "So what are you thinking? I should go alone?"

"No," Samuel interrupted. "That's too dangerous, sir. You should send someone else."

I shook my head. "No, sir, but maybe just a few with someone on the horse. The horse's footsteps could maybe mask the noise of a few men following you."

Ashton stared at me in the dim light for such a long time, I thought I'd overstepped my bounds, offering too much opinion. I shrunk back. I should never have—

"That's actually a very good idea," the viscount finally said. "Three or four men following the horse could get close enough to help subdue him. Of course, that supposes I could get close enough with the horse to make a difference. Whoever is waiting is sure to realize I'm not Charlie as soon as I come anywhere near him. I can wear his cloak, but I can't mask my voice if he calls out, wanting a response. He'll run as soon as he hears me."

I glanced back into the dark cell at Charlie, who was smiling smugly, knowing that was exactly what would happen. It had to be Richard or Barrett waiting, and if Charlie arrived alone, they'd know he'd failed to bring me and leave.

I straightened, feeling my strength and control seep back through me. "Take me, sir."

"What?" Ashton apparently didn't expect that response. Charlie's widened eyes said he didn't either.

"Whoever's waiting is expecting Charlie to bring me. If I'm with you, his focus will be on me. Not you. So take me. Sir."