Madcap Miss

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.”

“Hmm,” said Ashton, not interested in praise. “I am going to take Miss Felicia indoors and attend to the poor girl inside.” So saying and with his usual flair for taking charge, he had Felicia’s willing hand as he led her to the cottage.

Immediately inside they saw on a trestle bed in the corner of the cottage nearest the small stone fireplace a dark wool blanket thrown over and covering someone.

Felicia rushed over and pulled away the blanket to reveal a young woman, gagged and bound at her wrists and ankles.

Felicia gasped and said as she pulled out the girl’s gag, “Oh, my poor dear … faith … oh, but it is over. Yes, you have nothing to fear any longer. We have it all under control.” Then as the girl began to cry, she helped her into a sitting position and hugged her as she patted her back and offered, “There, there. I have no idea why the words ‘there, there’ should make it all better, but it is what my father would say whenever I cried.”

The girl choked on a giggle and sobbed and then giggled again as she surveyed Felicia with the prettiest dark eyes Felicia had ever seen. She could see that she wasn’t a child but a young woman, much her own age, with a mass of (at the moment) messy tawny locks. Those locks, she thought, when brushed would be glorious around the girl’s piquant heart-shaped face. She asked to steady the woman as much as to know, “What is your name?”

The young woman gave her a tremulous smile, took a long gulp of air, and said, “Thank you. I can’t imagine how you found me. I am …” And with that she burst into tears once more.

It was no wonder, Felicia thought, as the young woman sported a black eye and a welt across her cheek. Her lips were parched, and Felicia had a sudden urge to go outdoors and pummel the two scoundrels Ashton had secured.

She turned to Ashton, who was at her side, and saw that he had already found a knife and was cutting the young woman free of the torturous ropes that cruelly bound her and left marks on her wrists.

“Oh dear … your skin is raw,” Felicia muttered distressfully. “We must get you to a doctor and have some salve applied. Are you in a great deal of pain? Can you walk, do you think …?”

The girl’s dark lashes fluttered as she controlled her tears, sniffed, swiped at them with a finger, and said, “Yes, yes, of course.” She put a hand to her head for a moment and groaned as she attempted to stand and sank back down.

“Oh, no, oh … sir, what is to be done?” Felicia cried, much upset.

“Would I frighten you, child, if I held you steady?” Ashton asked softly.

“No, I thank you, that is very kind,” the girl said in a small voice.

“What is your name?” Felicia gently tried again.

“Rebecca Wilson,” the young woman said and cringed as she stood and Ashton held her upright. She had been manhandled, and she was bruised all over her poor, thin body. Her gown was torn, and Felicia hurriedly put the blanket around her shoulders and held it in place.

Ashton soothingly said, “That’s a brave girl, that’s right. You’ll feel better for it once you’ve stretched your legs.” He looked at Felicia, who was frowning as she helped hold the woman up. “Felicia, we will need a carriage,” Ashton said on a frown.

“Indeed,” Felicia agreed. “She can’t ride.”

“Oh, but I think I can,” Rebecca said and winced once again as she moved.

“No, no, you cannot,” Felicia said firmly and brightened to tell Ashton, “They had a wagon—where would they have left it when they rode off?”

“They left the wagon in the back … I heard them talking, and they said they were going to leave it in the old barn out back. Then they shoved me in the cabin, so I can’t say for sure if they did or not,” Rebecca offered.

“I’ll go see—” Felicia started off excitedly.

“You will not!” Ashton said roughly. “Stay here with Miss Wilson, and I will bring the wagon around if it is there.” He led Rebecca to a chair at the table and saw her seated before he arched a challenging glance at Felicia, who grinned and put up her hands.

“Very well,” Felicia said as she watched him go. She then turned to Rebecca and said, “Oh, I do hope it is there, as you certainly don’t need to ride a horse