He saw her jerk, her eyes widening as a red bloom spread across the bodice of her gown. She swayed, and before he couldcatch her, she was falling. He dropped to his knees, gathering her against him, the fabric of her gown damp beneath his hands.
“Eliza!” His voice broke on her name.
But she did not answer. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her hair spilling over his arm like dark silk. The forest was silent again — cruelly, impossibly silent.
He woke with a start, his heart hammering and his throat tight with a scream he hadn’t given voice to.
The study was gone; he was in his bedchamber, drenched in sweat, the dawn light just beginning to seep through the curtains. For several moments he sat motionless, staring into the dimness, listening to the pounding of his own pulse. He had no memory of coming to bed. No memory of leaving the library and seeking the solace of his own chamber. He certainly didn’t remember stripping down before climbing between the sheets. Yet, he sat there, nude, sweat cooling on his skin in the chilled morning air as the remnants of the nightmare slowly faded.
It had been a dream. Only a dream. Yet it had felt as real as any battle he had ever fought. He could still feel the weight of her in his arms, the heat of her blood against his hands.
No. He would not allow such a thing to come to pass.
He rose, his decision already forming even as he moved to dress. He could no longer leave her unguarded in that isolated cottage—a place where her vulnerability was known to any who might mean her harm. Until he learned who had fired that shot in the forest—the real one and not the dream one— and why, Eliza Ashcombe and her grandmother would make their home at Ravenswood Hall.
He would call it prudence, protection — duty if he must. But deep down, he knew it was something far less rational, far more perilous.
For all the blood he had seen spilled in his lifetime, the thought of hers mingling with it was something he could not endure.
By the time the sun had risen fully above the trees, Gabriel Hawthorne, Earl of Blackburn, knew what he must do.
He would bring her under his roof. And—by whatever means necessary— under his protection, she would remain.
Chapter
Ten
The morning air was crisp when Gabriel rode at a plodding pace up the narrow track that led to the Ashcombe cottage. The mist had begun to lift, though it still slithered along low to the ground and in the hollows and shadows beneath the trees. Behind him, the dark shape of his carriage followed its wheels crunching over the packed earth.
The cottage, when it appeared, was quaint with its whitewashed walls, thatched roof and the climbing ivy that had long since taken possession of its walls. It might have seemed peaceful to an unknowing eye, but to Gabriel, it looked far too isolated. Too vulnerable. If something were to happen here, there was no one to hear them scream, no one to hear cries for help.
He dismounted in one smooth motion, tethering the horses reins to the low gate before striding toward the door. The morning was too still for his liking. Even the birds seemed subdued, as though the woods themselves held their breath in anticipation of something. His own thoughts were so macabre and suspicious that he was irritated with himself. And yet he did not change course. That was both set and certain.
He rapped his knuckles once against the door, firm but not impolite. It opened almost at once.
Eliza stood there, a shawl thrown over her shoulders, her expression wary. She looked as though she had not slept.
“My lord,” she said, the words polite but cool. “I was unaware that the nobility made a habit of popping in unannounced… and uninvited.”
“But not unwelcome,” an older woman said from within the darker interior of the small structure.
He inclined his head slightly, unwilling to be drawn into one of her verbal sparring matches. “Forgive the intrusion, Miss Ashcombe. I have come on a matter of urgency.”
Her brow furrowed. “Urgency?”
“Yes.” He stepped back so she might see the carriage waiting on the lane. “You and your grandmother must come to Ravenswood Hall at once. You will be safer there.”
Her eyes widened. “Safer? Surely you cannot mean?—”
“I mean precisely that,” he interrupted gently. “I have slept little, plagues with my worry for you… both. You are alone here. Isolated and far too vulnerable. Until we know who fired that shot, or why, you are not to remain in this cottage unguarded. Here, you are too easy a target.”
Eliza drew herself up, her chin lifting. “I hardly think abandoning our home at the first hint of danger?—”
“This is not ahint,” Gabriel said, his voice quiet but firm. “It was an attempt upon a life — yours, mine, or both. I cannot say which. What I can say is that I will not have you unprotected while that question remains unanswered.”
Before she could reply, another voice spoke from within the cottage.
“I think His Lordship is quite right,” Helena said as she appeared in the doorway behind her granddaughter.
