Page 72 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” he said nonchalantly to hide his worry. “I saw a stream some way back. We should set up camp close enough to water Timothy.”

She glanced at the donkey. “Are you thirsty, sweet boy?”

Timothy nuzzled her arm, and she chuckled. “I assume that means yes.”

Jonathan’s answering smile was strained. His mind raced as they walked back the way they had come. It would be dark soon and the treacherous mountain path too dangerous to navigate. But at first light, he was taking Evangeline back to Athens. He would recruit Dom to help him raise a hunting party to find and rescue her uncle.

It was possible a ransom demand would be waiting if the group knew Wedmore’s nieces were in the city. That would be the best outcome given what Jonathan had seen at the campsite.

After they traveled a good distance, Jonathan found a place to set up camp away from the path. He and Evangeline worked in tandem unloading their supplies and draping the tarp over a rope before securing the ends.

They crawled inside the tent and made a bed with their blankets. She looked up at the tarp. “No stargazing again tonight.”

“No, but it will block the wind. After dark, it’s cold in the mountains.”

“I will look for kindling,” she said.

He gently caught her arm when she tried to leave the tent. “No fire tonight. We don’t want to attract attention.”

She sank back on her haunches, hands on her knees. Faint worry lines formed between her brows. “Was it the mercenaries? Do you think they hurt anyone?”

He understood she was asking about the abandoned campsite. “I saw no signs of violence.” No blood, at least.

“But there was a fight.”

He sighed. “Yes.”

She was observant and would figure it out eventually. It was better the truth came from him.

“I suspect a kidnapping,” he said. “At least a week ago.”

“What if it was Uncle Charles?”

“It could be.” When she bit her lower lip, he covered her hand with his. “The mercenaries only care about money. If they have your uncle, they will request a ransom.”

“Then we should find their camp and try to negotiate.”

“No, they will contact you and your sister,” he said. “We need to return to the villa and wait. You and I could be taken too, and the ransom will be even more.”

She nibbled her lip again, blinking as her gaze shifted around the small space. He could almost see her strategic mind running through scenarios and discarding them one by one. She released her lip, her shoulders sinking as she exhaled.

“You are right,” she said. “We know too little about them to outwit them, and I am not like Regina. I haven’t kept up with my Wing Chun training like she has. Not that it would do much good against a group of skilled warriors.”

He nodded grimly. “If you don’t receive a ransom request soon, I will come back for your uncle.”

“Are you sure the camp was his?”

He could lie to her, and to himself. He could say he was protecting her, but the burden of withholding the truth was weighing him down. “Some of the marks left behind lead me to believe it was.”

“What did I miss?”

“The heel gouge in the dirt.” He met her eyes. “It is from a Wing Chun defensive turn. And the knife mark in the tree, the angle of it. It wasn’t a common brawl."

She went quiet. Dusk was inching closer, the air cooling with every moment. “I wish we had made it further away,” she said softly.

He sat beside her to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She turned into him, letting go, her weight sagging against his chest. She slipped her arms around his neck, holding tightly—trembling as he held her.

“I promise to watch over you,” he murmured as he caressed her back. “At first light, we will leave.”