He moved his hand from her mouth and she took a breath, fighting for control of her fears. Slowly she turned her head.
“I always knew you were a loathsome pig, Ernest. You’ve just demonstrated how accurate I was in my assumption.” She glared furiously into the face of the Earl of Kilham.
Then opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs, ignoring the angry and violent gaze of the man holding the knife to her side.
And ignoring the savage pain as he thrust it into her body.
ChapterThirty-Three
The sound of Gwyneth’s scream echoed through Wolfbridge Manor, thanks to all the windows Jeremy had opened just moments before.
Feet pounded, and within seconds Jeremy and Gabriel ran out onto the grass, closely followed by Evan, Royce and Giles.
“Where is she?”
“I left her here…” Gabriel looked helplessly around. “I went to fetch her bonnet…”
“Shit,” cursed Royce. “Someone has her.”
Giles shushed them. “Quiet.”
His order was instantly obeyed and silence fell, broken only by birdsong. And a slight moan…
Giles glanced at Royce and pointed to the rhododendrons.
Royce nodded and motioned to Jeremy and Gabriel to go as far as they could down the bank of shrubs. Then he pointed at Giles and Gabriel, waving his hand in the other direction.
They understood and began to circle the bushes.
Slowly, and as silently as possible, Giles let Royce lead them across the grass, pausing at his command, letting him look around the leaves with each step.
Finally, he held up his hand sharply, turned and put a finger to his mouth.
They nodded as he beckoned Giles.
“You should do this,” whispered Royce.
Agreeing, Giles walked around, back straight, eyes glued to the pair lurking almost inside the rhododendron. “Gwyneth. Are you all right?”
She was white, so very pale, her face reminding him of when he’d first set eyes on her. All she could do was shake her head a little, her eyes wide with fear.
Since the man behind her held a bloody knife to her throat, Giles wasn’t surprised. What did send a river of horror through him was the blood stain he could see on her side.
“Who are you?” he asked the man. “Why are you hurting the Lady of Wolfbridge?”
“Go ahead, bitch. Introduce us.” He tightened his arm around her.
“Ernest,” she murmured, her voice faint, “this is Giles, the Wolfbridge butler. Giles, this is the Earl of Kilham, my stepson Ernest.”
“Really.” Giles managed to look surprised. “Welcome to Wolfbridge, my Lord. You could have visited in the usual fashion, you know. A knife is hardly necessary, nor is it becoming for an Earl to behave thus.”
“No other way,” the man replied. “I’ve come to collect what is mine. This…this whore stole everything from me.”
Gwyneth frowned and shook her head, gasping at the move as the knife bit into her skin and a trickle of blood ran down her neck.
“Yes you did,” said the Earl. “You know you did. You were supposed to die, to vanish, to starve to death and you deserved no better.”
“Forgive me, my Lord, but did you not inherit the entire estate when your father passed away? At least that is my understanding. Lady Gwyneth was not even left a stipend.”
