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 wi