Dorrie’s mouth opened, and a screeching sound came out.
“I think that’s enough,” Ash said.
The men spun to face him.
“Who are you?” one of them asked.
“Step aside and let them leave the stable,” Ash said. If his men heard that voice, they’d be running for cover. “Now,” he added when the three men didn’t move.
“He’s probably just another bloody noble thinking they have rights to everything,” one of the men unwisely said.
“Don’t think all noblemen are weak,” Warwick said. “Now move aside. My sister wishes to leave.”
They didn’t move. Ash did, however. He grabbed one of them and hauled him out of the stable. The others followed with what sounded like a war cry.
“Move, Dorset,” he heard Warwick say as Ash started fighting, landing a punch in a man’s nose.
“Both of you leave!” Ash roared.
“I think not.” Warwick Sinclair joined him.
“Get him,” the man with blood now pouring from his nose roared. To Ash’s surprise, Warwick kicked out with a foot and dropped the man who rushed him. Ash swung and connected, but then received a fist to the jaw.
“You fiend!” Dorset came in wielding a crop.
Ash had no time to do anything but use his fists. He dropped the man who was covering his head as Dorset slashed at him, and Warwick finished his. When the men ran from them, Ash grabbed Dorset.
“Your brother told you to leave!”
She tried to shake his hand free. “I thought I could help.”
“Don’t waste your breath trying to tell her she did wrong,” Warwick said from over his shoulder.
“She could have been hurt,” Ash snapped.
“My sisters have been lectured continually about their willful disregard for their safety. They have yet to change,” Warwick muttered, heading back into the stable to check his horse.
Ash started walking for the entrance, dragging her with him.
“Let me go.”
He didn’t.
“I said let me go,” she snarled, her hand slapping his arm.
He spun her to face him. Her cheeks were flushed, but she still looked the immaculate, beautiful lady she’d arrived as.
“You”—he pointed at her—“are reckless. You should not have been there the night you came to my aid in London, and when your brother told you to run just now, you should have.”
“Sssh,” she hissed. “I have no wish for him to hear!”
“How?” Ash made a show of looking to where Warwick was, now some distance away. He hadn’t raised his voice; there was no way the youngest Sinclair could have heard.
“He has good hearing.”
“Not that good,” Ash snapped. “You need to stop taking risks, Dorset.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”
