Chapter 17

"I don't like this," Tareth muttered for the third time in the last few minutes.

We were outside now, gathered near Charlie's horse. Only one torch had been lit in the courtyard behind the manor; Lord Ashton thought it best to keep light to a minimum in case their quarry could see the estate. Too many lights suddenly appearing this late would definitely arouse suspicion. I managed to keep to the shadows.

No one thought much of me hovering off to the side with my arms crossed over my belly, appearing to keep warm. I was hoping to hide how I'd ruined the clothes I'd been given for as long as possible.

I certainly didn't want to lose them. The night was cool, the grass damp with dew under the soles of my feet. I was grateful for the longer sleeves and the wide hem of the pants sweeping the ground and covering my chilled toes. I knew from experience they could be much colder uncovered.

Samuel had roused three of the manor's most adept shooters, who were checking over the rifles they had brought with them. Lord Ashton was several feet away still involved in a heated discussion with his steward.

I could tell by the way Liam kept glancing my way that he still didn't like me, he didn't seem to be too sure about whatever Lord Ashton was telling him. But the heated fury he usually displayed was noticeably diminished. I wondered if Lord Ashton told him of my suspicions of who 'Lee' might have been. I'm sure Liam would not appreciate his loyalty to Lord Rowland and the Sterling estate questioned like that.

"Liam's not happy either," Tareth noted with a smile, obviously glad someone else felt the same way he did about this idea.

"It's my fault," I whispered, hunching over my arms clutched across my abdomen. Damn, my hand was starting to throb.

Tareth frowned, his head tilting. Of course, he didn't know the whole story yet. "No, I think he's just been so worried about Lord Rowland. He's been almost worse than Lord Ashton in his fear over the count's health, sleeping in the chair next to Lord Rowland's bed. But at least it looks like the count will be better soon. He's woken up a few times, I've heard."

Thank the Gods. Tareth and I watched as Ashton and Liam's heated argument seemed to fade and both men were patting each other's shoulders before a brief embrace ensued. They turned toward us—Ashton smiling, Liam, well, not yelling for my blood—and strode over as Samuel held out Charlie's cloak to the viscount.

"I don't like this," Liam stated, and I bit back a smile as Tareth raised his brow at me.

"That's what I've been saying," my brother grumbled.

"I still don't trust him," Liam continued, staring me down. "He was Barrett's whore for years, what if—"

I gasped in shock as Tareth suddenly had the steward's shirt fisted in his hands, his usually placid face twisted in fury. "Don't you ever talk about my brother that way!"

Liam, for his part, was apparently too stunned by the abrupt attack to even respond before Lord Ashton was stepping in and shoving Tareth back.

"What?" Liam snapped. "Your brother?"

"Yes," Tareth snarled at the steward, "and I don't know what the hell has been going on, but Kye is not a whore. He's a good kid—"

I groaned inwardly. I'm not a kid! But I was a whore. Tareth just didn't know it yet. My stomach churned at what he'd think when he did find out.

"Not now," Lord Ashton interrupted. "We'll talk about this later, when we can sit down calmly." He pinned Liam with his stare. "Kye is helping us. He's helping Row. You will treat him as a guest. My guest."

Liam flinched at the implied reprimand. "Yes, sir," he responded sharply.

"Good." Ashton nodded as he donned the cloak and swung up into the saddle. He glanced down at me and held out his hand.

I was so stunned by his defense of me, I automatically let go of my shirt and reach up with my right hand. As soon as Lord Ashton clasped it and pulled me up, I winced, hissing out a sharp breath as I realized my mistake. I was barely settled on the horse in front of him, ready to sink back into his warmth, when he yanked his hand back in surprise.

"What in the Gods' names—?" He was staring at his bloody hand. His fist snapped around my thin wrist, whipping it up from the shadows to the stark light of the flickering torch.

"Kye!" Tareth cried, darting forward, eyes wildly scanning me.

Lord Ashton's other hand had pulled me back against him roughly as he peered over my shoulder, and he finally saw the blood staining the front of the shirt.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out automatically, but his hand was already pressing against my abdomen.

"Where?" he demanded, his voice oddly hoarse. But he didn't even wait for a response before his hand was under my shirt, his fingers probing my ribs for a wound.

"You told me you were fine!" Tareth accused, but I was only distantly aware of his voice.

"I'm sorry..."

Ashton's strong fingers on my belly sent shivers up my spine, and I barely registered that he was still gripping my wrist, waiting for an answer.

"Kye! Where are you hurt?" he demanded again, shaking me slightly.

"It-it's j-just my hand," I stammered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin your shirt."

Ashton's gaze whipped back to my hand. I felt his grip tighten slightly, and my hand flexed open as he twisted it so he could see it better in the light. A heavy breath rushed out against the side of my neck.

"Fucking hell, Kye. Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" Lord Ashton's rough, harsh tone shocked me.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Tareth yelled in tandem. "I asked you if you were all right!"

I frowned down at my brother. Samuel was watching me with huge eyes as well as the steward. I didn't understand why they were so upset over such a small gash. "I didn't think it was important," I murmured. "It's just a cut." Hell, this was nothing compared to lacerations I'd received at the hands of Lord Barrett. It wasn't bleeding, much, anymore. I lifted my chin to look over my shoulder at Lord Ashton's dark eyes, his stubbled jaw tight. "I'm sorry about the shirt, sir."

"Fuck the shirt," Ashton growled. "You are a stubborn little thing, aren't you? Get down. The doctor needs to look at that—"

"No!" I shouted in alarm as he tried to shift me to slide off the horse. I'd grabbed at his arm still wrapped around my belly to stop him before I realized what I'd done.

Oh, Gods! The viscount had stiffened behind me at my cry, and my stomach jumped into my throat. I'd just defied a noble's order. What the hell had I done? What would he do to me now?

"Oh, sir, I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't—I didn't mean—"

The rumble of a chuckle at my back shocked me. "Get me something to wrap his hand with."

What? My head snapped up. Ashton was looking down at the men surrounding us.

"Sir, shouldn't he stay—?" Tareth started.

I heard the ripping of fabric and noticed Liam tearing a strip from the bottom of his shirt. I gaped at the steward as he handed it up to his viscount, who efficiently tied it around my palm.

"I think Stubborn here would disagree with you, Reth," Ashton's voice held a hint of amusement.

I glanced back at the man in shock. He wasn't upset? He wasn't going to punish me for my outright defiance?

"Let's go get this bastard," Liam stated, hoisting his rifle to his shoulder. "So we all can finally get some damn sleep." Liam shook his head as he continued to mutter under his breath. "Fuck, this has been one hell of a long day. First, the poor horses and the delay of the wagons, now all this."

Lord Ashton laughed as he flipped up the hood of the cloak then tightened his arm around my waist and guided the horse with the other, turning the beast into the dark night. I heard Liam and the three other men follow closely, their dark clothes helping them blend into the shadows.

Tareth and Samuel watched our departure from the torch's ring of light. Both had worry lines etched on their faces. Yet I couldn't help the small smile that curved across my lips.

***

It was strange that I felt a sense of serenity on this journey into the woods, one where I knew I could be facing danger. The rustle of the wind through the trees, the scurry of unknown woodland creatures, the deep murkiness of the night—all should have intensified the anxiety of treading toward an unknown entity awaiting in the grove. Certainly, I should feel more worried this time than when I'd traversed here the first time, thinking I was escaping a lashing.

Perhaps it was the bit of exhaustion creeping into my bones from, not only being awake for so long, but the surge of adrenaline from facing Charlie's attack on the viscount.

Of course, it could also be the warm body pressed up against my back and the thick arm wrapped around my waist holding me steady. I barely noticed the throbbing ache in my hand anymore or the coolness of the night air touching my bare toes as I kept them tucked up in the extra length of my borrowed pants.

Lord Ashton expertly maneuvered the horse with his other hand gripping the reins. He kept urging the horse into a noisy trot, crunching leaves and twigs to help mask the extra footfalls of the men following closely behind. I knew as we approached closer to the lake, the men had been instructed to find hidden vantage points among the tree line and be ready to strike at notice. Their hope was that the approach of the horse, and me with it, would be distracting enough to allow them to edge closer than they could possibly have gotten otherwise.

"You don't eat enough." Ashton's whisper in my ear startled me. I had felt his fingers roaming over my ribs, but I had assumed it was something he'd been doing absently, a restless twitching in anticipation of possibly catching his brother's near murderer. "You're too thin."

It took me a moment to even think of a response. Did he even expect one? "I-I eat what I'm offered, s—"

A squeeze on my ribs cut off the formal address that was automatically spilling from my lips. "Have my servants not been feeding you well?"

I was surprised by the near growl of disapproval in his low voice. "N-no, sir. I've eaten better here than I have in... well, a long time."

"But that means—" He hesitated. "What did you eat under Barrett's care?"

His care? I nearly choked on a laugh. 'His care' implied that my former Master actually gave a rump-fed wagstail about me. "Some bread. Maybe an apple or some cheese sometimes mid-morn."

"And for your evening supper?" Ashton prompted, his voice nearly obscured by the tromping of the horse's hooves.

"Uh, if he had a dinner party, he might..." I could feel myself flushing with embarrassment. I didn't want to describe being treated like a pet to this man, but he had already seen it. "...he might, uh, feed me some roast, or uh, sweetmeats. If he found it amusing to do so."

I felt the horse's gait falter, a small hitch, as Lord Ashton's grip inadvertently snagged the reins tighter. His fingers dug a bit more into my belly as he blew out a harsh breath with a muttered curse I couldn't make out.

"He starved you," Ashton finally ground out.

"I—" I had the odd urge to deny the accusation, as if I needed to defend myself.

"Don't fucking deny it," the viscount snapped, his voice rising slightly above the whisper it had been. "You weigh practically nothing, and I can feel every rib."

I didn't know what to say to that. He was right. It had been how Master Barrett preferred me to be. I was actually glad to see the shimmer the moon on the lake through the trees. It meant Lord Ashton would stop asking me all these questions I didn't know how to answer.

I felt his irritated huff of breath against the back of my neck, and I closed my eyes briefly to try to find my control. Be good. Be strong.

The horse seemed to clomp even louder, and I briefly heard Liam's whispered order from behind us for the other men to spread out. Thankfully, Lord Ashton fell silent as we approached the edge of the tree line. For a moment, I thought I'd seen movement at the edge of the lake; however, it was fleeting and might have been a trick of the light.

But what if it was the man Charlie was supposed to hand me over to? What if he was waiting for a signal or a sign from Charlie before approaching? What if he became rattled at the silence and ran? Or what if he managed to hear Lord Ashton's men attempting to surround him?

"Let me go. Please," I blurted out abruptly. I started to squirm as if I were trying to get away.

"What are you—" Ashton's voice whispered angrily, his arm tightening.

"Please! Please don't hurt me!" My voice echoed over the lake, my wriggling causing the horse to dance a bit to the side as we broke into the clearing.

Movement to our right caught both our attention, as did the low chuckle resonating from the darkness. Ashton stilled the horse.

"Fucking hell, Lee, could you make any more noise?"

I stiffened at the voice. I shouldn't have been surprised to hear it, though. Lord Ashton was hoping to catch the man, but I suppose I'd also half hoped no one would be here.

The man stepped from the shadows, his pistol hanging loosely in his hand at his side.

Richard.

"I see you finally managed to bring him. Took you long enough. He cause much trouble?"

He'd be expecting an answer from Charlie, I was certain, so I suddenly flailed, catching the viscount with my elbow. "No! No! Please!"

Ashton grunted, and I hoped it was enough so an answer wasn't expected immediately. I thought maybe my thrashing and cries would be noisy and effectively distracting enough to keep Richard's attention from the woods around us. As quiet as Liam and the others had been, I'd still noticed at least one closing in on the man and I desperately wanted to keep Richard's attention off the forest.

"Hand him over quickly and get back before you're missed," Richard demanded, stepping closer, waving the pistol for emphasis.

"No... no... please, Charlie, please," I continued to plead. I could sense Ashton's hesitation as he debated his next move. Would he charge the man? If he did then I'd certainly be in his way, hindering him. Would he continue to pretend being Charlie? If so, his silence was sure to become suspicious soon, especially if Richard came close enough to realize Ashton wasn't Charlie.

"Don't. Please!"

A hearty laugh chilled my spine. "I think he knows what's coming, the traitorous little bastard. Barrett's going to whip you bloody for all the problem's you've caused, you puny scut."

My heart pounded in my chest in panic. He was getting too close. He'd realize who Ashton was...

"No!" And I launched myself off the horse, shocking both Ashton and Richard, as I hit the ground, stumbling briefly before I ran toward the woods.

"Fucking hell!" Richard cursed as I heard him scramble after me. "Stop, you little bastard, or I'll shoot you right now!"

"Kye!"

I ignored both as I zeroed in on the glittering eyes hidden behind the brush. The ones behind the sight of his gun.

Liam.

He aimed his rifle silently. And I barreled straight for him.

The near simultaneous explosions were deafening, echoing from in front of and behind me, as a sharp pain blossomed between my shoulder blades, knocking me to the ground.

**ducks the pitchforks**