Chapter Twenty #2
“That’s it,” Raven said with certainty. “That’s where he’s gone. Wolf, gather as many men as you can trust. Rockwell, alert the magistrate—I want legal authority to arrest Carstairs if needed.”
“Why would he wait to kill her?” Rockwell asked, despair in his voice.
Raven’s heart almost stopped. Then he breathed. “He can’t just kill her because that would start an investigation.”
“So what is his plan? Hold her indefinitely?” Wolf said sarcastically.
Raven didn’t know. What was Carstairs plan? Then his brain kicked into gear. “No. He’d have to make it look like an accident. So he has to plan something.”
“Or he’s already planned it.”
“You’re wrong, Rockwell. Ashley can’t be found dead outside of London. That would raise eyebrows. So she’s still alive for now. I’m riding out now.”
“Alone?” Wolf grabbed his arm. “Raven, you can’t—”
“I can and I will.” Raven pulled free, his voice brooking no argument. “Every minute we waste is another minute Ashley is in danger. I will not wait.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Wolf said flatly.
“As am I,” Rockwell added.
Raven wanted to argue, but one look at their faces told him it would be useless. Ashley was their sister. They had as much right to her rescue as he did.
“Fine. But we leave now. This instant.”
They rode hard through London’s streets and out into the countryside beyond, pushing their horses to the edge of endurance.
Raven’s mind churned with terrible possibilities.
Ashley hurt. Ashley afraid. Ashley believing he wasn’t coming for her because he’d been too stubborn to listen when she’d begged him to stop investigating.
Please, he prayed to whatever God might be listening. Please let me reach her in time. I’ll give up the investigation. I’ll forget about justice. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for my arrogance. Just let her be alive. Let her be safe.
But beneath the prayers ran a darker current of thought. Memories he couldn’t suppress no matter how hard he tried.
Kitty’s face, pale and still in death. The way her red curls had looked matted with blood. The horrible, crushing realization that he’d failed to protect her. The fact he hadn’t known she was in danger until it was too late didn’t escape him.
And now, it was Ashley who was at risk. Ashley who was so much more than Kitty had ever been.
Not because Kitty had been lacking—she’d been wonderful in her own way, full of life and laughter and acceptance.
But Ashley was his equal. His partner. The woman who shared not just his bed but his life, his struggles, his darkest secrets.
With Kitty, he’d been the Duke of Blackstone playing at a fantasy. Keeping a mistress in a pretty house, visiting when his duties allowed, maintaining a careful separation between his two lives.
With Ashley, there was no separation. She was woven into every aspect of his existence. She sat in his study while he worked. Debated politics with him over breakfast. Challenged his assumptions and forced him to be better. She knew his desires, his shame, his fears—and loved him anyway.
Losing Kitty had nearly destroyed him. Losing Ashley would be impossible to survive.
The hunting lodge appeared as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. It was a ramshackle building set back from the road, surrounded by overgrown gardens and broken fences. Exactly the kind of place where a desperate man might take a woman for safekeeping while he planned her murder.
Raven dismounted, but his legs wouldn’t carry him forward. He stood frozen, staring at the dilapidated structure, his heart hammering against his ribs.
What if I’m too late?
The thought paralyzed him completely. What if he walked through that door and found Ashley already dead? What if Carstairs had killed her the moment they arrived, eliminating the threat she posed before anyone could stop him?
Raven had failed to save Kitty. Had arrived too late to prevent her murder. Could he survive finding Ashley the same way? Could his heart withstand another woman he loved stolen by violence?
No. The answer was immediate and absolute.
He couldn’t. Losing Kitty had been devastating, but losing Ashley would be annihilation.
Because what he felt for Ashley wasn’t the affection of a protector for someone under his care.
It was the soul-deep connection of two people who’d chosen each other, who’d built something real together.
Ashley was his partner in every sense. His equal.
His match. The woman he discussed business with, debated philosophy with, shared his body and his secrets with.
She challenged him, frustrated him, made him laugh, made him think.
She’d taken his darkest desires and not only accepted them but embraced them, trusted him with her vulnerability in return.
Without her, his world would be empty. Hollow. A carefully arranged set of duties and obligations with no joy, no passion, no meaning.
He couldn’t walk through that door. Couldn’t face the possibility of finding her dead. Better to stand here, suspended in this terrible moment of not-knowing, than to walk forward and have his worst fears confirmed.
“Raven.” Wolf’s hand landed on his shoulder. “We need to move.”
“What if she’s already dead?” The words came out hoarse, barely audible. “What if we’re too late?”
“Then we’ll deal with that when we know,” Wolf said gently. “But standing here won’t change anything. And if there’s any chance she’s alive in there, every second we delay could be the difference between saving her and losing her.”
The logic penetrated through Raven’s paralysis. If Ashley was alive—if she was in there, fighting for her life, believing he would come for her—then his cowardice was betraying her. His fear was abandoning her when she needed him most.
And if she was already dead…then at least he would know. Would be able to hold her one last time. Would ensure Carstairs paid for what he’d done.
But he couldn’t just stand here. Couldn’t let his fear of loss prevent him from trying to save her. Because that would be the ultimate betrayal—to have the chance to rescue Ashley and fail because he was too terrified to act.
He thought of her face the morning after he’d first made love to her.
The way she’d smiled at him over breakfast, soft and satisfied and happy.
The way she’d looked bound to his bed, trusting him completely with her body and her pleasure.
The way she’d argued with him about the investigation, fear and love warring in her eyes as she begged him to leave the past alone.
She’d been trying to protect him. Protect both of them. And he’d been too proud to listen.
Well, he was listening now.
I’m coming, Ashley. Hold on. Please, just hold on.
Raven shook off Wolf’s hand and strode toward the lodge, his paralysis shattering into focused determination. Fear still churned in his gut, but it was overwhelmed by something stronger—love, fierce and protective and absolute.
He would save her or die trying. There was no third option.
They approached carefully, listening for any sounds from within. Then he heard it. Ashley’s voice, defiant and furious even through the thick walls.
“You’re a coward, Carstairs. A pathetic, desperate coward who threatens women because he’s too weak to face consequences like a man.”
Alive. She was alive.
Relief flooded Raven so powerfully, he nearly staggered. His knees went weak; his vision blurred with tears. She was alive. Fighting. Still the fierce, unbending woman he’d fallen in love with.
Thank God. Thank God!
But relief lasted only a moment before fury replaced it—white-hot and focused. Carstairs had her. He’d taken her, terrified her. And he was about to discover that abducting the Duchess of Blackstone was the last mistake he would ever make.
“The back entrance,” Wolf whispered, pointing to a rear door hanging crooked on its hinges. “We can get in without being heard.”
They moved as silently as three large men could manage, slipping through the broken door into a dusty corridor. The sound of voices grew louder—Carstairs’s smooth tones mixing with Ashley’s defiant responses.
“—simply accept the inevitable,” Carstairs was saying. “I take no pleasure in this, truly. But you’ve left me no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” Ashley’s voice was steady, fearless. Raven’s heart swelled with pride even as terror continued to claw at him. “You’re choosing murder because you’re too craven to face exposure. Too selfish to accept the consequences of your own actions.”
“Big words for a woman tied to a chair.”
Tied to a chair. Raven’s vision went red. He burst through the door into what had once been a parlor, taking in the scene in an instant.
Ashley, bound to a wooden chair, her dress torn at the shoulder and a bruise darkening her cheek. Carstairs standing over her with something in his hand—a pistol, Raven realized with cold horror.
“Get away from my wife.”
Carstairs spun, his face going white as he saw not just Raven but Wolf and Rockwell flanking him. Three large, furious men blocking the only exit.
“Your Grace.” Carstairs tried for his usual smooth charm, but his voice shook. “This is…this is not what it appears—”
“It appears,” Raven said with deadly calm, “that you have abducted my wife. Assaulted her. And are currently holding a pistol in her presence. Please, do explain how that’s not exactly what it appears to be.”
“She’s a liar.” Carstairs backed up a step, the pistol wavering between Raven and the others. “She’s trying to destroy my engagement with false accusations—”
“Not false.” Wolf’s voice cut like a blade. “We know what you did three years ago, Carstairs. About the attempted elopement with my sister. About how you let my sister take the blame to save yourself.”
Carstairs’s face went from white to grey. “You can’t prove anything. But I have proof of Ivy’s love for me. I have her letters with me.”
“Ivy?” three voices said in unison.