Madcap Miss (8 page)

She was in a pickle. How could she leave the girl here with those two? Yet, she must if she was going to get help. At least she knew a name. Wilson? No doubt it was this man Wilson’s daughter and they meant to ransom her, she decided as she crouched low and tried to make up her mind to leave and bring back help.

All at once, she felt a hand over her mouth, and her mind and heart screamed, though no sound was emitted. A steel grip held her in place as a familiar, hushed voice said softly in her ear, “Be still, vixen, or they shall hear us.”

Though his voice was a whisper, it still held a sharp command. It was with a sense of relief that she obeyed and relaxed into Ashton’s arms. She looked up into his gleaming silver eyes and felt a wave of emotion she could not at that moment describe.

He set her apart and put a gloved finger to his lips before he took her hand, urged her up, and in a bent position stealthily pulled her along with him into the woods and out of earshot.

Sensations bolted through her, concern for the girl, and an overwhelming pleasure that he had somehow found her and would know what to do being uppermost on that list.

He pulled her close and said in a low voice, “I want you to ride back to the inn and have the innkeeper…Hodgings, is it?”

She nodded.

“Have Hodgings fetch the magistrate and some help.” He pulled her towards her horse. “I won’t brook an argument in this.”

“Yes, but—” she started to object.

“For once, woman, do as you are told!” he snapped. “I haven’t the time to discuss this with you.”

The harshness of his voice was mitigated by the caressing glance he gave her and the touch of his gloved fingers on her cheek. “My sweet Felicia. We need help, not for us, but for that child in there, so this time, please … be careful as you can when you cross the fields.”

“I am always careful,” she answered testily, as she very much wanted to remain to help rescue the girl.

But he was already hoisting her up, and as she settled into her saddle, she sighed. He was right. They needed help.

He touched the ankle of her boot and tipped his hat to her. “Are you, love? Always careful?” His brow arched. “Go on then, but you are not to do more than lead them here. Understood?”

His tone was stern, and he added, “I will come to you—here, at this spot. You are not to bring them to the cottage.”

She pulled a face but held her tongue for a fraction of a moment, thinking his command allowed her some leeway. “Understood,” she told him.

“Good girl. Off with you, now.” He patted her calf and then pulled her skirt around her boot.

She looked back as she weaved her way out of the woods. How had he found her? Had he tracked her? Why? Well, it didn’t matter why, because it was a devilishly good thing that he had.

~ Nine ~

IT WAS A frustrating business, the matter of finding and securing help. No one moved fast enough for Felicia.

Breathless, she had asked the stableboy to walk her horse and to remove Whiley’s remaining front shoe. Then she ran to the back entrance of the inn and found Hodgings in the kitchen.

In clipped and disjointed sentences, she poured out her morning’s escapade but found only one thing seemed to get Hodgings on the move.

“Whot is all this ye say?” Hodgings said after her diatribe.

“Help, you must fetch help. Glen Ashton says—”

“Well, why didn’t ye say so? Mr. Ashton needs the magistrate, does he? Right then,” said the innkeeper.

As he took off, she went upstairs to Scott, whom she found sitting up in bed. She plopped onto the corner of the bed and gave him a full rendition of this latest affair.

He scowled at her and said, “Dash it, Felicia … I should be in on this.”

“Well, no sense scowling over what can’t be helped.” She sighed. “You haven’t touched your lunch.”

“I direct you to look at it and tell me, if you can, what it is?”

Momentarily diverted, she inspected his tray and pulled a grimace. “Ugh. I don’t know what it is, but I am certain is must be good for you.”

“No, it isn’t,” Scott answered roundly.

“Yes, but it is what the doctor ordered, I am sure,” she answered doubtfully.

“Is it, by God!” he said with some disgust. “Well, take it away and have them send me up some sirloin.”

“You know, I rather agree with you. I think you would be better off with some real food.” She took up his tray, went into the hallway, found a chambermaid, and asked her to kindly bring Mr. Hanover some meat and bread.

She returned to him and answering his questions regarding her adventure. When she was done, he considered her for a long moment and inquired, “A child, you say? How old do you think she is?”

Felicia puzzled over this. “I don’t know. I can’t be certain she is a child, actually. She could be a young woman …? She is rather tall, I did see that, or at least I thought she was. It was difficult to get a good look through the trees.”

“Flip, how do you know this isn’t all a hum?”

“Why, Scott. You know me better than that.” She frowned at him. “Why would I make up anything so ridiculous?”

“No, not made up but perhaps misunderstood?”

“If that gruel were still here, I would plaster your face with it,” she returned.

“You would try,” he countered pugnaciously, at which they both laughed.

She then sighed however and said, “What is taking them so long?”

At that, a knock sounded at the partially opened door and a serving girl stuck in her head to say, “Sir awaits ye below, miss.”

“Right,” Felicia said, getting to her feet. She went and dropped a kiss on Scott’s forehead and said, “Enjoy your sirloin when it gets here.”

“Be careful, Flip,” Scott cautioned. “Don’t get your neck stretched.”

She beamed at him. “Not to worry, love. Mr. Ashton will be there.”

“Aye then, he is a right’un.”

* * *

Glen Ashton waited in the woods as close to the cottage as he dared and wondered what in thunder he was doing there.

A reasonable question.

Earlier he had been able to get close enough to take a quick look in the window and saw the two men inside were bickering over a card game. He had sighed and moved into the thick of the woods bordering the small clearing around the cabin.

It was with something of a start that he dove for the thick of the brush when one of the men, evidently in a temper, shouted at the other. An argument ensured, and Ashton clearly heard one tell the other he was going for a bucket of water to cook up some food.

“Aw now, Jack,” complained the other. “Finish up the hand, do. What kind of a sport be ye?”

“Oi don’t give a monkey for the hand, the sport, or nuthin’. Oi be hungry, and there ain’t one lick in here to satisfy a man, Clem, and ye know it.”

“There be yesterday’s mutton,” suggested Clem.

“Know what, Clem? Ye be naught but a pig-gutted, pig-headed, and—”

Apparently Jack didn’t get to the finish the sentence, as he had something hard flung at his head. It clamored to the wood floor, and Jack stomped out of the cottage.

Ashton made sure he could not be seen and waited.

Things had happened too quickly all morning. He had been in a rush to follow Felicia, whom he had seen take to horse. He only had his curricle horses, so he had Scott’s horse saddled quickly and hurried after her.

He had nearly caught up to her and was about to shout out after her when he noticed she was behaving oddly and realized something was wrong. Thank God, he had managed to keep her from screaming when he came upon her bent and watching the cottage. At least she was safely out of this and would soon return with help.

At that moment, he heard Scott’s horse fidgeting. Something had spooked the spirited steed, and it was with a snort, a yank at his tether, and a clamoring that he pulled himself free. Ashton closed his eyes.

His horse whinnied as he made for the inn’s stables!

“Damn!” Ashton said under his breath as he watched the man called Jack come to a complete stop and look around.

“What the hell?” Jack said low and worriedly.

Ashton knew he had to silence the man. This incident, he decided might be a good thing, after all.
Perhaps it was time to play cat and mouse?

* * *

Felicia led the magistrate, who was a mature but not an elderly fellow, and two stout and sturdy individuals who had accompanied him, all riding at a heady pace.

Felicia felt out of breath as they reached the woods. There she took the lead, putting up her hand for silence and stopping her horse. They gathered around her, and she whispered, “There is a trail just within the trees, but we must be careful, for I don’t know if the other two have returned yet or not, you see.”

Horse pistols were drawn and brandished to Felicia’s wide stare; she hoped that they knew what they were doing. She bit her lip and then cautioned, “Perhaps pistols will not be called for?”

The magistrate nodded, his expression grave. “Don’t you worry, Miss Felicia. We won’t fire a shot unless forced to it.” He turned to his two companions and much to Felicia’s horror waved his horse pistol about and called out, “Right, lads?”

His men nodded and grunted in evident agreement with this assessment, and although Felicia had serious misgivings, she had no choice but to slowly lead them forward.

She peered through the woods longingly for a sign of Ashton. A sound caught her attention at that moment and she brought her horse to a halt.

Something was charging towards them at a desperate pace. Scott’s horse! Oh, no. Was Ashton hurt? What had happened?

She managed to get the bay gelding to stop by blocking its path, and she cooed to him as she reached for the reins. She turned to the magistrate and told him, “This is Mr. Ashton’s horse.”

The horse snorted, his eyes a bit wild and his tail and head up with his obvious fear. Felicia continued to steady him with soft words.

“This fellow, Ashton … do you think he has been nabbed, then?” asked one of the magistrate’s men.

“Well, no, I don’t,” Felicia answered at once. “No doubt his horse was startled and broke free of his tether.” It was at this moment all of them went very still as they heard the report of a gun.

“Damn, if we ain’t in for it now,” breathed the magistrate grimly. “Stand aside, girl and then, stay here safely out of the way!”

* * *

Ashton’s game of cat and mouse had proved to be expedient. The mouse had, and he smiled to himself, indeed, come scurrying unawares to the cat!

He had purposely made a bit of noise, stepped heavily on twigs, moved the brush and then waited. He didn’t have his pistol with him, but he had his neckcloth, which he had already undone. With any luck, it just might do the trick.

The culprit Jack obviously heard the crackle of twigs and stopped to listen while Ashton stayed very still, hunched and ready. Evidently his mouse was considering going for the bait.

Ashton watched as Jack slowly put down his bucket and looked toward the woods, his face drawn in a frown. His uncovered hair blew around his face and eyes, and he cursed and worked it backwards with his fingers before he bent to take up a thick branch and smack it against his open palm.

Ashton patiently waited. Jack walked right in his direction, the direction from where he had heard the sounds.

Ashton made his move,
and it was like a sudden storm blowing in out of nowhere!

He ran down his prey, sending him backwards in a fury of motion and force. Ashton was well over six foot and muscular. Jack never stood a chance.

Ashton pinned him with deftness and forethought, and then rolled him over in fluid, easy movements, while, stunned and winded, Jack tried to defend himself.

Ashton purposely put his weight on Jack’s back as he straddled the stunned man and then secured his arms by tying them at the wrist with his neckcloth. Jack got off one shout before he was nearly knocked nearly unconscious by Ashton’s fist to lie dazed.

This done, Ashton lifted himself off just enough to roll the man onto his back and immediately stuffed his handkerchief into the man’s open mouth—open because he was about to put up another shout.

Ashton waited because his captive had in fact made enough noise to bring the other out. It was what he had wanted.

Ashton pushed his handkerchief further into the man’s throat and sneered as Jack choked.

He forced the man into the woods and then made him sit on his butt.

Ashton pulled out his shirttails and ripped off a length of its hem, clucking to himself as he told his captive, “Damn shame I have to ruin this … but we can’t have you getting to your feet and taking off, now can we?” He tethered the man’s ankles and then stood for a quiet moment, waiting and listening.

“Jack!” called the other man as he stepped out of the cottage. “Where be ye? Damn fool—Jack?”

Ashton watched expressions flit over the man’s face and saw him take up his gun.
Aye, then, this one knew there was trouble and was ready.

The man called again, “Eh then, ye dimwit, where are ye?”

The man, under Ashton’s eye, walked towards him and peered into the woods.

Grumbling, cautiously the man moved across the short patch of weeds at the cottage and stepped out of the clearing and into the woods.

This was all that Ashton needed to instigate his plan.

A rock carefully aimed and forcefully thrown whizzed over the man’s uncovered head. The fellow was already unnerved. This last made him crouch and hold out his gun ever-ready.

“Oi’m armed, oi am,” the man shouted and then, for emphasis, let off a shot into a nearby tree.

Ah, just what he wanted. Before the man could reload, Ashton rushed him and caught him off balance. The man opened his eyes wide and fell backwards. “Whot?” the man cried as he went down.

Ashton gave him no time whatsoever to regain his breath but instead took him by the collar and dragged him a few feet before he planted him a facer. “That is for your manhandling of a young woman.”

It was at this particular moment that the magistrate, his two men, and Felicia—who had not remained behind as he had told her—arrived on the scene.

Ashton watched their approach, inclined his now uncovered head, for he had lost his hat in the scuffle, and was at that moment nearly bowled over by a whirlwind of a woman. Felicia had jumped off her horse and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his middle.

“That was so very well done!” she exclaimed, dropping her arms and stepping back to take hold of his hands. “I can only imagine what that awful man must have thought, having a mountain barrel into him.” She laughed with pleasure. “Oh, sir,” she said and then hugged him tightly. “You are not hurt, are you?”

Ashton found himself winding his arms around her small and provocative body. He couldn’t seem to stop himself as he kissed the top of her head and gave her a squeeze. “Of course I am not hurt, but what the devil are you doing here, minx? I told you to wait a distance from the cottage.”

“Well, this is a distance,” she returned innocently.

“You were not supposed to come this close.” He held her chin and glared at her, but the look on her face that clearly told him no one and nothing could have stopped her tickled his sense of humor, and he chuckled before turning to the magistrate.

“There is another one … much like this—” His head indicated the man breathing with some difficulty and sprawled on the ground a few yards away. “I have him all trussed up for you. However, there should be two more men returning at any moment unless, of course, they have seen what we were about and have already taken to the wind.”

The magistrate sent his men to gather the prisoners and said, “By Jove, well done, Mr. Ashton, well done.”