Chapter Twenty-Seven
Maddie smiled at the note in her hand, the script bold, slanted, and just slightly arrogant.
Meet me at the stables. Bring your appetite.
Signed with a devilishly smug “—S”.
Her first note from Sebastian. And it was exactly what she should have expected. Not random. Not careless. Just bold enough to be thrilling.
“A picnic?” she murmured, brow arching. “In the stables?”
An inelegant snort escaped before she could stop it. “Good grief. The man’s no better than the Earl of Linsey.”
She set the note aside and reached for her coat. Horse men.
Still, she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet with him.
At the last second, she paused at her vanity, fingers brushing the small silver etui beside her combs and scent bottle. Habit. Her apothecary instincts never truly went quiet. She slipped it into her pocket—just in case.
She paused by the door, glancing toward the window. The snow had all but vanished, now mere streaks of slush clinging here and there. The road beyond the estate ran clear and open. No longer buried.
Her hand faltered at the latch.
Did Sebastian know? About Paisley?
She pressed her lips together, then straightened her spine. Probably. But she still needed to tell him. Reaffirm her intentions. Her love. Her vow.
She didn’t meet any of her friends on her way out—only a few servants, mercifully too busy to tease or question her. But the moment she reached the stables, her steps faltered.
There were no baskets or blankets laid out. No Sebastian leaning handsomely against a post.
Instead, a polished black carriage stood waiting, door ajar, the driver in his seat, ready to take off.
Her heart gave a strange little lurch.
Was he taking her somewhere? A ride beyond the estate?
A thrill ran through her. Without thinking, she stepped toward the carriage and reached for the door.
Her excited smile slipped the moment she met the man’s gaze.
She froze.
Inside, seated proudly, was not Sebastian.
“Paisley,” she breathed. “My apologies. I thought—”
“No,” Paisley said. “You thought right.”
Her brows furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, you thought right.”
The sharp clip of hooves echoed oddly in the still lane—too muffled, too timed. Maddie’s slipper paused mid-step.
Something was wrong.
Her foot eased back to the ground, the gravel biting her heel. She turned, just a fraction too late.
A man stepped from the shadow of the carriage, his face half-hidden by the brim of his hat, the edge of a smirk tilting one corner of his mouth. His gloved hand reached for her—not with violence, but with terrifying certainty.
Her breath caught. Her throat tightened.
Before she could scream, his fingers wrapped around her wrist—firm and smooth—and he tugged her forward. Not roughly, but decisively. Possessively.
“What—” she managed, but the word died as the carriage door yawned open and darkness waited inside.
She didn’t move. Not yet. Her mind was too stunned to instruct her limbs.
He didn’t wait.
She stumbled as he pulled her in. The velvet interior swallowed her whole, and her bonnet knocked askew as the door slammed shut behind them with a sound far louder than it should have been. Final.
She blinked. Tried to see him in the dim light.
The carriage jerked into motion.
She blinked again, her wits returning full force. “What are you doing? Let me out right now!”
“Calm down,” Paisley drawled. “If I wished to harm you, it would already be done.”
“Oh, forgive me if being kidnapped puts me in a dramatic mood!” she snapped. “How is this not harming me?”
He merely raised an infuriating brow.
“You will not get away with this,” Maddie warned. “You must be daft if you think you would.”
“I already have.”
“You forged a note from Sebastian. That is vile, you mad—”
“Oh, Miss Madeleine,” he said her name like a sigh. “Do you really believe he’s good enough for you?”
She glared at him. “Yes. I do.” How could he not be?
“I don’t.” His eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to be mine.”
“Yours?” She let out a sharp laugh. “I am not a horse, Your Grace. I do not belong in your stable. Or your collection.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You would still make me a fine wife.”
“Pity for you, I have no intention of making you a fine wife.” Maddie crossed her arms and legs, back rigid, chin high.
She had to escape. Some way or another.
He leaned forward slightly, menace cloaked in elegance. “And yet here you are. Alone. With me. There is no other option than for you to be mine now.”
There was always another option.
She met his gaze, steel for steel. “You’ll return me, Paisley. Because men like you don’t understand the power of real friendship. And if you think my friends won’t come for me—if you think he won’t come for me—you are far more foolish than I thought.”
His eyes glittered, but she could tell she’d struck something vital.
“Sebastian?” he sneered. “He’ll come. And I’ll be waiting.”
His left eye twitched.
Maddie jerked back. He looked wrong. Too taut. Like a man barely holding his shape.
“By now, Miss,”—he rocked his head back and forth as if bestowing himself a terrible compliment—“your reputation can’t be salvaged.”
“I know that!”
“You do, of course. And that’s why you’re mine.”
“Never!”
“You are! I have you right here! I claimed you.”
He grimaced in a terrifying manner. The mad fox. She remembered it suddenly—her father’s story of the one that foamed and snapped and vanished into the woods.
But I won’t be his prey.
“You can’t claim what’s already been—” but she didn’t finish.
His eyes glinted. Something in them had cracked.
“What did you say?”
She inhaled sharply. He wanted Sebastian to follow. He wanted Sebastian to see how he’d won.
How broken must a man be to call that love?
Her heart pounded—but not from fear.
Not entirely.
Yes, she was scared, but she also knew he would come. And Paisley had no idea what kind of trouble he had just invited into his carriage.
Because she wouldn’t cooperate.
Already, her mind spun with ways to stall this man.
But first, she needed to find out his plan.
“Where are we going?”
“The church,” came his curt answer.
The church? So the man wasn’t waiting.
“That would mean you have a special license.”
“Correct.”
Her jaw nearly dropped. So this had been planned.
“You truly are mad,” she whispered. “Do you hear yourself? You think I’ll simply walk into a church and say vows with you because you’ve hauled me into a carriage?”
His eyes gleamed with something dark—hunger, yes, but desperation too. “No. I think you’ll marry me because you won’t have a choice. By the time anyone finds us, it will be too late.”
“You know nothing about me if you think I care about scandal. My mother won’t allow a kidnapping to put me in a bad light.”
“True. She won’t.”
Why was he so smug?
He knows something I don’t.
Maddie narrowed her eyes.
She was no longer a virtuous lady.
“Oh, I know. You care for your friends. You care for your place in their hearts. And you care for him.”
He was right on all scores.
“They will never think badly of me, and I would rather be ruined, fully and publicly ruined, than marry a man who tricks and traps his way into a woman’s life against her consent.”
“You say that now, but once we are wed, and the fury fades, you’ll come to see I was right. That we were always meant to be.”
“Always meant to be?” she repeated, nearly choking on it. “Why don’t you turn this carriage straight to Bedlam? That is where you are meant to be!”
His mouth tightened.
She leaned forward, anger blazing now, pressing on, “You don’t want me. Not me. You wanted ownership. You wanted to win.”
“Winning is everything,” Paisley said tightly.
Silence stretched taut between them, thick as molasses. Maddie felt her chest rise and fall, breath shallow but steady.
She couldn’t talk this man down. But no matter.
He would not win.
And she needed to remain calm for what was to come.
Not that she knew what yet, but she could feel it in her bones.
This kidnapping was just the start.
“Enjoy this moment,” she said softly. “Because they are coming, Paisley. And when they do, they won’t bring flowers or cheer.”
No, they would bring wrath.
If they could find her.
*
Sebastian strode through the east wing, heart pounding, boots striking hard and fast across the marble. He’d searched every room in this castle—twice. Her bedchamber, all the other chambers, the kitchen, the music room, the parlor, the conservatory, even the bloody linen closet. Maddie was nowhere.
“Have you seen Miss Maddie?” he barked at a footman passing him.
The poor man nearly jerked out of his livery. “No, my lord. Not since breakfast.”
Sebastian turned on his heel and strode toward the back of the house.
He’d already questioned half the staff. One maid mentioned seeing Maddie heading toward the stables. So he’d gone there, calling her name, tearing through the stalls like a man half-mad.
Nothing.
No Maddie. No note. No sign of her.
Just a hollow, echoing silence that clung to the air and whispered of something very, very wrong. He should have found her by now, but it was as though she’d vanished from the estate. As though she’d never been here. As though this entire time had all been a dream.
But it wasn’t.
He burst through more doors, more rooms, eyes scanning, breath harsh. This wasn’t like her. She wouldn’t simply vanish.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, then descended again after sweeping the guest floor once more. Still nothing. The panic clawing up his throat now threatened to choke him.
By the time he stepped into the drawing room, he knew he must have looked half-wild. When Lady Ashley glanced up from her book, alarm flickered across her face. Thomas, beside her, set down his brandy.
“She’s not in the house,” Sebastian said tightly. “I’ve checked every room. Twice.”
Ashley set aside her book. “You mean Maddie?”
“Of course I mean Maddie! Have you seen her? Did she say anything about going to town?”