Page 84 of Mail-Order Viscountess

He was already moving toward the door. “If she comes back, keep her inside. Lock the doors. Don’t let anyone in you don’t know.”

“Mr. Balfour⁠—”

But he stepped out the door, and the cold once again struck him like a fist. He scanned the street in both directions.

Empty boardwalks. Closed shops. The wind carrying nothing but the distant sound of the river.

He strode toward the doctor’s office, examining the snow-packed ground. Boot prints—dozens of them, overlapping, impossible to distinguish one set from another.

Wait.

There, just past the doctor’s door. A scuff mark in the snow. And beyond it, drag marks leading toward the alley between the clinic and the boarding house.

His insides clenched even tighter as he followed the tracks.

CHAPTER 28

The cold seeped so deep into Kate’s bones she’d actually stopped shivering.

That couldn’t be good.

The rough rope that bound her wrists to the saddle bit into her skin with every tiny movement—either hers or that of the restless sorrel beneath her. The gag in her mouth tasted of sweat and dust and something metallic—blood, maybe, from where she’d bitten her tongue when they threw her onto the animal.

The camp—if it could be called that—was little more than a clearing in a stand of pines, hidden from the main road by a rocky outcropping and a short trail. Her mount was one of the five horses that stood tied to a picket line strung between two trees, their breath rising in white clouds.

The men had built no fire. Probably too much risk of being seen.

Instead, they huddled in a loose cluster a few steps away, passing a flask between them and speaking in low voices.

Five of them. The two from the boardwalk—the broad one with the broken nose was Jake, and the lean, tall one they called Henry—plus three others she hadn’t seen before.

All of them armed with rifles and revolvers. All of them watching the trail that led back toward town.

Waiting for someone.

At least they couldn’t see the road to the Balfour ranch from here. At least not that she could tell.

She flexed her arms within the ropes again, twisting her wrists as much as she could. The leather gave almost no room to shift, much less work her hands out of its hold. Raw places had begun to chaff on her skin, but she didn’t show the ache. Any sign of struggle would only draw their attention.

There had to be another way.

Would Thomas come back for her? Of course not. He was heading to warn his brothers about the danger. By now, he might be at the ranch, preparing defenses with Enoch and James and Robert. They’d need every person who could hold a rifle if these five—or more—rode down on them.

He wouldn’t know she’d been kidnapped. That she’d been dumb enough to let herself be alone with those two lechers. Her throat tightened around the gag.

No one would come.

She was on her own. Just like always.

Except not quite like always.

Because this time, if she failed to escape, it wouldn’t just be her life at stake. These men had taken her for a reason. They’d grabbed her the moment they learned she was married to a Balfour.

A bargaining chip. That’s what Jake had said when they’d thrown her onto the horse. If those boys put up too much of a fight, we’ve got a bit o’ leverage now.

They’d use her to force Thomas—or Enoch, or any of them—to lower their weapons. To walk into slaughter.

She couldn’t let that happen.