Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

She looked up at the sound of a shout.

It was the most precious voice she’d ever heard in her life. It was Devlin’s voice, and he was there, on top of the cliffs, waiting for her, and she pressed forward, trying desperately not to slip, climbing for all she was worth toward his voice.

She heard the man climbing up below her. Hadn’t he heard Devlin’s voice? Didn’t he know he was now the prey?

She threw back her head and yelled, “Devlin, you’re wearing your hat!” When she felt his strong hand pull her up, she laughed and threw herself against him. “Their leader, he’s behind me. It’s not Richard. His voice sounded familiar to me, but I can’t place it. He’s still coming. Give me a gun, Devlin, I want to shoot him.”

66

Hardcross Manor

Leah threw the mare’s reins at the gaping stable boy.

“Is Master Richard here?”

The boy quickly tugged on his forelock. “No, milady, ’e went to Lunnon, don’t ye recall? Ye was ’ere when ’e left.”

“Of course I remember, you idiot.” She didn’t wait for him to assist her down. She jumped, nearly fell, but straightened and ran toward the manor.

The front door opened before she made it to the top of the stone steps. It was Vicky.

“Leah! Goodness, whatever is the matter? What are you doing here? Oh, my, you’re wet to your skin. Come in, come in.”

Thank God for Vicky. She was leading her inside the manor, bemoaning how wet she was, and asking her over and over what had happened.

Leah grabbed her arm. “Vicky, none of that matters. Is Richard here? Has he returned?”

“Richard?” Vicky cocked her head to the side. “You know he went to London. He was going to perform some task for our father.”

Some task for Lord Purley? Richard had said it was business, and she’d assumed it was his own private affairs.

“Take me to your father; I must speak to him now.”

“He isn’t here, Leah. He went riding, even knowing it was going to rain. I don’t know when he’ll be back. I do hope he does not return ill. What has happened? What is wrong?”

Leah didn’t want to scare Vicky. She had to get hold of herself. She drew in one deep breath, then another and yet another. “All right, everything is all right. Yes, I’m very wet. May I borrow some dry clothes?”

Vicky took Leah to her bedchamber and clucked over her as Leah stripped off her clothes behind an ornate Japanese screen and put on dry ones. She accepted only two petticoats—who needed a

dozen petticoats?—and pulled the lovely gown over her head. Vicky hooked the buttons up her back.

“Here are slippers.” The slippers, naturally, matched the green of the gown, a lovely soft Pomona green. Then Vicky sat her in front of the dressing-table mirror and began toweling her hair dry. If Leah wasn’t mistaken, Vicky was humming, very intent on what she was doing.

Leah said, “Roxanne was kidnapped again. Last night. She was taking part in Julian’s final smuggling operation.”

Vicky stared at her. “Smuggling? Goodness, there hasn’t been any smuggling in Cornwall forever. Well, not much that I’ve ever heard about. The prince—he’s a smuggler? How very romantic that is. However do you know this?”

“No one told me. I overheard Julian and Devlin speaking of it. Romantic? Well, it didn’t turn out that way. Devlin was with Roxanne, and he was struck down. When he awoke, Roxanne was gone. Everyone is out looking for her. I had to know—” Her voice fell dead. She looked mutely in the mirror at Vicky, who was working loose a tangle in her damp hair.

“You have beautiful hair, Leah.”

“That’s not important now. Didn’t you hear what I said? Roxanne is missing. Someone took her.”

“It appears someone is always taking her. Are you certain she didn’t whisk herself away this time? Mayhap because she likes the attention?”

That is something I would say. “Vicky, that makes no sense. Roxanne is sensible.”

Vicky shrugged. “Who knows what another will do and why? Is Devlin all right?”