It will be my way—or no way at all.
"My lady—"
"I'm getting Rosie back, and I'm doing it now," she bit out. "Nothing is going to stop me."
She pushed blindly past Tilda and Lugo to the door. As she strode down the hallway, she knew hell was waiting. It was no more than she deserved, and this time she would confront it or perish trying.
* * *
Ambrose sprinted through the woods, his alert gaze scanning the leafy trees and tall grasses for any sign of Marianne. Lugo caught up with him, panting.
"Where the devil is she?" Ambrose snarled.
The manservant shook his dark head, his expression mirroring Ambrose's anxiety.
Ambrose had arrived at Pendleton's estate less than a quarter hour ago, running into a panicked Lugo. Apparently, Ambrose had just missed Marianne's departure. She was supposed to be heading to the meadow to confront Pendleton. But there was no sign of her. His chest palpitated with panic.
She's in danger. Have to get to her.
"We split up." Ambrose could see light up ahead, the smooth sweep of the clearing that provided prime hunting ground. "I'll go west—you take the eastern edge. We have to find her, man."
Lugo jerked his chin, and they split off without another word.
Fear for Marianne pumped Ambrose's blood, fueled his pounding steps over the mossy forest floor. It was too quiet here—too secluded. The perfect setting for an attack. His instincts sharpened, his senses on high alert. Through the blur of the passing trees, he saw deer in the meadow, their ears pricking as he raced by.
Where the bloody hell are you, Marianne?
Then he saw her. Up ahead, her berry frock a bright splash against the greenery. She stood at the edge of the forest, at the perimeter between dark and light, and panic gave him another surge of power he didn't know he possessed. Sprinting toward her, he shouted her name. She turned, her eyes a vivid flash in her pale face.
"Stand down, Kent," she said.
He halted, paces away from her. His gaze fell on the pistol she aimed at his chest. Lungs working harshly, he said, "Marianne, come to me. Let me explain—"
"I said,back off. I don't want to hear any more of your lies. Now get the hell away, or so help me God Iwillshoot you again," she hissed.
He took a step closer. "Shoot me, then. But you have to listen, you're in danger—"
"No thanks to you." She cocked the pistol, her color high. "I know you were following me, I know everything between us was a lie!"
There was no time to argue with her. He made his move, lunging to capture her arm. He gave her wrist a quick but gentle twist—sufficient to make her drop her weapon, which thudded to the ground. She swore, struggling against his hold.
He kept his grip firm, growling, "'Tis Coyner who has Rosie. The bloody magistrate has your little girl, do you hear me?"
Marianne stilled, her eyes widening. "What?"
"I'll explain everything, but let us get out of here first—"
A movement flickered at the corner of his eye. His head whipped toward the meadow; his gaze honed in on a movement in the trees across the clearing. Sunlight glinted off leaves and a patch of brown hair…
"Coyner!" he roared.
A puff of smoke erupted from the trees. Ambrose shoved Marianne to the ground, sheltering her with his body as a blast tore through birdsong—
An unholy force punched into him, throwing him backward. He landed, blinking up at the perforated canopy, blinded by the dancing light. Ringing erupted in his ears, yet above it he thought he heard his name, streams of light cascading across his face. Silken sunshine, the scent of summer rain. The leaves blurred into emeralds, and he closed his eyes, smiling, before the pain swept him up in a violent rush.
35
With Lugo's help,Marianne managed to get Ambrose back to the main house. Entering the foyer, she ignored the shocked exclamations from the guests, her heart thumping as she saw Ambrose's pallor, the blood soaking through his shirt.
