Griffin gaped like a fish, then burst out, “He’s mad, Your Grace. Like a wild dog. I didn’t know he wanted to kill anyone. I swear to you, I didn’t!”
That only made the duchess’s weeping worse and the sound filled the room. Ewan slammed his hands down on the glass displays so hard that they cracked. It seemed he got his point across without having to write anything, for Griffin squealed like the cornered pig he was.
“She didn’t want him to hurt her mother,” he all but sobbed. “So she convinced him to take her somewhere else.”
“Where?” Baldwin shouted as he fought to keep his mother upright.
“The hunting lodge on the hill,” Griffin choked out. “She convinced him to take her there.”
Ewan shook his head. She had convinced him, to protect her mother—and perhaps to give Ewan an upper hand. After all, there had just been a lot of activity at the lodge lately, with the tenants staying there until the thread of flood faded. He’d just been there, thanks to that, while his brother had not visited that place in…years. Decades, perhaps, Ewan would wager.
He drew in a deep breath and turned to his friends. He scribbled, “Someone must take the duchess back to the estate.”
Matthew moved forward and gently took over from Baldwin. “I’ll take her,” he said softly. “Her brother should be with you, Ewan.”
Ewan spun on Griffin and wrote, “And you. If I come back here later and you are still in my village, I will make certain you suffer greatly for your part in this.”
Griffin swallowed and jerked out a nod.
Ewan motioned to Baldwin, and they raced out to mount their waiting horses and thundered off toward the hunting lodge just over the bridge and up a long hill. He could only hope that they wouldn’t be too late.
Charlotte winced as Roger tied her hands tightly with her fingers laced together. He had been waiting in the carriage when Josiah dragged her from the shop half an hour earlier. While Josiah prattled on and threatened, Roger had been silent on the long ride up the hill to the hunting lodge. She had hope then, but once they arrived he’d done everything Josiah had directed, including tied her to a chair, and now binding her hands.
She examined him as he leaned in to do his work. Roger didn’t look quite as driven by madness as his elder brother did. Of course, he’d never had the illusion that the title belonged to him. That could play in her favor if she were careful.
If she could convince him not to do everything he was told.
“You don’t have to be his lackey,” she said softly.
Roger turned his face and pulled the ropes tight enough that they dug into her skin. She sucked in a breath and glared at the now-grinning Josiah.
“I don’t want you talking to Ewan,” he said, “in that secret little language of yours.” He shook his head like he was disgusted. “You were a lady. Whatever possessed you to put so much time into a dullard like him?”
She held his stare as she tried to find calm enough to speak. “That will be your downfall, you know. That you judge his silence to mean he is not smarter than you. That he isn’t stronger. That he isn’t better in every way.”
Josiah marched forward, hands shaking. He caught her cheeks in his fist and squeezed until her jaw hurt. “You shut your fucking mouth,” he growled. “Or I’ll find something else for you to do with it before I kill you.”
She shuddered, for his meaning was more than clear. She pressed her lips together as he walked away to stir the fire he’d built upon their arrival. She had to think. Plan.
She couldn’t sign to Ewan when he arrived, and she had no illusions that he wouldn’t arrive. Josiah had sent a message up to the house just a few minutes before. In an hour or so, Ewan would come thundering up. Alone, if he followed instruction.
And walk into a nightmare.
She shifted, trying her binds, but Roger had tied them tight. “Gag her,” Josiah said.
“No, wait,” she gasped. “You don’t want me to sign to him, yes?”
He glared at her, silent and dead-eyed. “Gag her,” he repeated.
“No!” she shouted, turning her head as Roger approached with a dirty strip of fabric to stuff into her mouth. “Listen to me, damn it. If you truly want to hurt him, you’lllisten!”
Josiah straightened and raised a hand to halt his brother. He moved toward her, examining her. “You want to hurt him?”
“Of course not,” she panted, glaring up at him. “Butyoudo. To do that, you need to be able to let him communicate with you. You have two choices for that. You can have him write everything on his notebook.”
Josiah let out a sound of disgust. “God, the notebook. Writing, writing, writing. No.”
“Then your other option is to let him sign what he has to say and let me translate.” She swallowed, hating this. All of it. “You want to hear his pain, don’t you? To really feel it? Well, you need me as a mouthpiece to make that happen.”
