Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

She pictured Ravenscar in her mind and turned south. You think you can outrace monsters? Prove it. She ran as fast as she could across the open expanse to the edge of the cliff, and skidded to a stop, felt the earth breaking off beneath her feet, and frantically windmilled her arms. She got her balance and crawled to the cliff edge and looked down. It was a sheer drop to the beach below. She wanted to cry. Then she saw it—a narrow snaking path tracing back and forth across the cliff wall all the way down to the beach. She was so grateful, she nearly cried.

She heard a loud cracking gun report, but she didn’t hesitate. She dashed down that path, tripped and fell to her knees, rocks digging into her hands and knees as she scrabbled wildly for purchase. She grabbed the branch of a scraggly bush and managed to pull herself flat against the cliff. And waited.

Another gunshot. Was it closer? She simply couldn’t tell. Had they seen her running toward the cliff? And on this, the worst day of her life, she knew they had.

She heard a man’s shout.

She looked down to the beach, sucked in her breath, and ran, trusting her balance and her feet.

63

Roxanne is smart.”

Devlin knew he was saying this aloud more for his benefit than for Julian’s and Sophie’s. Like the others, he was hunched forward, the hat on his head giving him some protection from the rain. Sophie had a scarf tied around her head.

“It’s true,” Sophie said, “she is smart. She’ll do something, I know she will. Devlin, you shouldn’t even be out of bed.” Sophie leaned close to his horse to poke him lightly in the arm. “And it’s raining, you could get sick—oh, very well, that doesn’t make sense, does it? Please, don’t fall off your horse.”

He wasn’t listening. His head felt like it was going to split open, and he was so scared for Roxanne

he wanted to vomit. But Roxanne was smart. She would figure out something. She would keep herself alive until—dear God, he just wanted her to be whole and safe.

Julian said even as he kept scanning all around them, “A pity we couldn’t get Leah to confess anything. All she did was defend Richard, claiming he was in London.”

Sophie snorted. “I could have gotten everything out of her if you’d only let me chew off her cheek.”

Julian laughed. He didn’t know where it had come from, but he was becoming quite used to laughing, even at strange times, like now.

“Perhaps we should split up,” Devlin said.

“No.” Julian shook his head. “One alone could become a victim as well. We stay together.”

Sophie frowned. “We’ve looked everywhere. Wait, what about the cliffs?”

“The cliffs?” Julian turned to face her. “What would she be doing at the cliffs? There’s no place to hide there.”

“I don’t know why, but it feels right.”

They said nothing more, each of them intent on searching the countryside, blurred and indistinct through the pounding rain.

At least a dozen men were out, searching southward. Mayhap they’d found her, but, oddly, Julian didn’t think so. He looked over at Sophie. She looked fierce.

It pleased him. They rode through a small forest of trees and out on the open land that led to the cliffs.

They dismounted a dozen feet from the cliff edge, since the heavy rain was turning the ground to mud, and walked carefully to the edge to look down.

They could see nothing through the rain, it was that thick. Then, suddenly, the rain lessened. Sophie pointed to the distant horizon. The sun was trying to come out behind a black cloud. Devlin shouted, “There’s Roxanne. Look, there are men after her.”

64

Ravenscar

Leah didn’t know what to do. She paced the drawing room, thankful the duchess had left her finally to go to breakfast, since she’d politely refused to say anything more. What could she have said, in any case?

Surely Richard wouldn’t have taken Roxanne. Surely. He certainly hadn’t taken her the first time, because she and Richard had been together, not ready to eat their picnic luncheon but to make love beneath that lovely old willow tree, when Julian, Sophie, and Devlin had burst upon them.

But he could have hired some men to take her. She couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it. And she’d kept insisting that Julian was taken with Roxanne, not Sophie. Had Richard believed her? Had he acted?

How had it come about that the prince wanted Sophie? Leah suddenly saw her as a little girl, eager, delighting in everything. Bethanne, her mother, so in love with her own child, petting her, laughing with her in pure joy. But she wasn’t a little girl now. She was twenty years old. Old enough to marry, old enough to marry a man twelve years her senior, and she’d been selected by his own mother. Leah had heard Julian say Sophie was too young for him, more like a niece, and she’d believed him. That claim had fallen by the wayside, hadn’t it?