Page 35 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Quiet,” a rough male voice rasped.

Her heart thumped. This wasn’t possible. The criminal type shouldn’t be inside the garden. Had one of the servants forgotten to lock the gate?”

“Keep quiet, or I get rough.” He pulled her tighter to his body and his hot breath filled her ear.

*****

Erroll roused to a consciousness that thundered like a gunshot inside his head. Pain bounced off his skull in a hard rhythm that caused him to wince. He had been in the garden with Miss Crenshaw when a sudden pain lanced down his back—

“Who the devil cocked me?” His gravelly voice in the silent darkness impacted his head like a wave crashing against a cliff.

The floor beneath him rocked and he realized he was in a fast moving carriage, trussed up like a prize pig. And he wasn’t alone. He squinted into the darkness in an effort to distinguish shapes, but the effort made his head pound all the harder.

He forced himself to relax against the cushion, and said, “I hope you didn’t harm the lady.”

“Lady’s fine,” a deep barreled voice replied.

“You will forgive me if I’m not reassured. What have you done with her?”

“Nothing. Last I saw her, she was at the party.”

“I feel certain Miss Crenshaw would not stand idly by while a man was abducted.” He got no reply, so tried another tack. “Where are we going?” Still no reply. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Not nearly long enough,” the man growled.

“I am known for having an usually hard head,” Erroll said. “Have you contacted my father for a ransom? He isn’t one to throw away money. You may have miscalculated in kidnapping me.”

“We don’t want money.”

“Indeed? What do you want, then?”

“I want you to be quiet.”

“We do not always get what we want—but never mind. If we have more than a ten minute ride before us, I will kindly ask you to pull over.”

The man grunted. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I drank far too much champagne this evening.”

“I have a schedule to keep,” the man said.

“Be that as it may, I can promise you that ten minutes hence, you will be in need of a new coach.”

“Too convenient,” he replied.

Erroll laughed. “Not for me, my good man.”

“Too much of a chance.”

“A man of few words, I see.”

No reply. His vision had acclimated to the darkness and the throbbing in his head had dulled to a low roar. In the far corner, he discerned a large form that fit the barrel voice. He wasn’t going to enjoy the jolt to his head when he brought the brute down.

“While I have no wish to travel in soiled clothing, I will not last long,” Erroll said.

“You didn’t seem in much need in the garden.”

Erroll gave another laugh. “It is surprising what the right distraction can do for a man.”