Page 60 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

They tore down the hill pell mell, Charlotte peering into the fields, searching for someone who seemed to be in charge.

“Help! Help! My manager and I were attacked by robbers.” She reined Ajax in and they slid to a stop, almost running down several of the harvesters. She glanced around, but none of the men looked familiar.

“Here, now, what’s the to-do?” One tall worker ran up, followed by the others.

“I’ve been attacked. They were waiting for us in a little stand of woods on my estate. I’m Lady Cavendish of Lyttlefield Park. Please, you must come. My manager, Mr. Courtland, is still there. They may have killed him!” The truth of Courtland’s dire circumstances hit her like a punch to the stomach and she burst into tears.

“My lord.” The biggest worker, a giant of a man, turned toward a man who’d come running out of the wheatfield.

“Nash!” Charlotte screamed and vaulted off the horse.

“Charlotte? Charlotte, what’s the matter?” He came flying toward her and caught her up in his arms.

“Robbers. In the stand of trees at the edge of my property. They’ve got my manager, Will Courtland. You have to come.” Charlotte gripped his jacket, panting as though she’d been running instead of the horse.

“Thorne, Ashford, Stockley, get horses and follow me.” He pried Charlotte’s hands from his coat and ran to his horse, standing tethered at the corner of the field.

Dazed, Charlotte watched as he leaped into the saddle. “Hurry, lads.” He pulled the horse around.

She stared after him, panic receding as determination set in. Did he think he would go without her?

“You there.” She pointed to a young man who looked at her with eyes big as saucers. “Give me a leg up.” She ran to her mount and glanced back at the boy, still standing stock-still. “Now!”

He reluctantly approached and gingerly made a stirrup for her to step into, then tossed her up and backed away just as Nash rode up beside her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going with you.” She glared defiantly at him, waiting for his denial.

He opened his mouth, then shut it abruptly. With an exasperated snort, he growled, “Come on.” His horse shot away.

He hadn’t argued at all. She sat still on the prancing horse, shaking her head and watching his straight back as he rode away. It took her a moment to realize she needed to follow. She urged Ajax after him, back the way they had come, trailing Nash on his big chestnut stallion. By the time they hit the crest, the other men had caught up and they rode hard toward the stand of oaks that now sounded eerily quiet.

As they neared the entrance to the trees, Nash pulled a pistol.

Charlotte gasped. She’d not expected him to have a weapon.

He held up a hand and they slowed. Nash entered first, Charlotte right behind him. There was no sign of her attackers. The tree still lay across the path, behind it in the dim light a crumpled figure.

“Mr. Courtland.” Charlotte pulled her horse to a halt and slithered down. She hurried around the end of the tree to the body of her estate manager.

But Nash had gotten there first. He crouched beside the man and felt his neck for a pulse.

Charlotte’s heart leaped into her throat.

Then he lifted the man’s head, and a groan issued from him.

“Thank God he’s still alive.” Her shoulders sagged and she wanted to sink to the ground.

“He’s not out of the woods yet.” Nash winced at his words when Charlotte laughed nervously. “He’s been beaten rather badly.” Courtland’s face had turned black and blue, one eye almost swollen shut. Nash pointed to a dark red stain spreading from the manager’s shoulder. “And he’s been shot.” He began to tear at his own neck cloth.

Nash’s men had spread out in the woods. The big man now approached them. “No sign of them, my lord. They must have taken his horse. P’rhaps that’s what they were after.”

“Thank you, Thorne. They might have thought two horses worth the risk in broad daylight. It’s an isolated spot.” He glared at Charlotte as he finished untying his cravat. “A single man and a woman would seem like easy prey.” He unwound the cloth and pressed it against Courtland’s shoulder to staunch the blood. The man moaned and his eyes fluttered open.

“Lady Cavendish?” he whispered fiercely, his gaze riveted to Nash’s face.

“Safe, Courtland. You are to be commended for making good her escape.” Nash’s voice soothed as he gently moved the man into a sitting position. “Do you think you can ride?”