Page 112 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Seventeen

“Eve.”

Something jarred her—hard. Her head swam.

“Eve, wake up.”

She burrowed deeper into the surrounding warmth.

“Eve, the marquess is calling for us.”

Eve’s eyes popped open and she bolted upright in bed. The room swam around her for an instant, then Grace snapped into focus where she knelt on the bed beside Eve. The fire in the hearth had burned to coals and no light shone through the colored glass window.

“What time is it?” Eve croaked.

“Three thirty in the morning.”

“Holy God,” she breathed. “Whatever can they want at this hour of the morning? Do you know what has happened?”

Grace shook her head. “Lady Rushton came to me. She asked that I wake you. She will return presently and take us to the marquess’ library.”

Eve sat for a moment, unable to move. “I cannot imagine why they would call us at this ungodly hour. Why not wait until the morning? Papa must know we are all right. Surely, he didn’t have us wakened just to see us.” And he wouldn’t. She threw back the covers and stood for a moment at a loss as to what she was looking for, then realized she wanted the dress she had draped over the corner chair. She started toward it, but stopped upon realizing Grace hadn’t moved, nor was she dressed. “You had better dress.”

“What if Papa is angry?” Grace said.

“You only just now realized he might be angry?”

She looked at Eve, eyes wide. “I thought I would be married by the time he saw me and that would soften the blow.”

“Nothing will soften the blow.”

Grace paled and guilt stabbed at Eve. Despite her woman’s body, Grace was only nineteen, and Eve, after all, had gotten her into this mess. Grace would never have thought of kidnapping Lord Rushton, and Eve couldn’t blame her for readily agreeing to come to Mull. After all, Lord Rushton would have tossed Grace into the carriage just as easily as he had Eve if she’d balked.

“This is what you have been waiting for, Grace.”

“Not exactly. I was waiting for Lord Rushton to whisk me off to visit a magistrate.”

“That might yet happen. Now, we had better dress.” Eve would rather find the closest mouse hole and crawl inside, but kept the sentiment to herself.

Fifteen minutes later, Lady Rushton appeared at Eve’s door.

“Can you tell us nothing, ma’am?” Eve asked as Grace closed her bedchamber door and the marchioness started forward with them.

“I am as much in the dark as you,” she said. “The marquess woke me and told me to bring you both to his library.”

“So you did not see our father?” Grace asked.

“I have not yet met him.”

They fell into silence until they reached the library door, which stood open. The marchioness entered first, and Eve almost lost her nerve when she glimpsed her father sitting in a wingback chair with a small table between him and another chair where the marquess sat. Neither man wore cravats, their shirts were open at the neck, and a nearly empty decanter sat on the table between two partially filled glasses. Had they been discussing the situation all these hours? Eve caught sight of Lord Rushton and Lord Somerset sitting on a couch and she slowed when she saw that a stranger sat on the couch with them. He, like Lord Rushton and Somerset, seemed to have dressed in as much haste as had she and Grace.

“Papa,” Grace cried, and hurried to him.

He rose and she practically fell into his arms. He hugged her close and to Eve’s relief, Grace didn’t cry, though she feared she might.

He pulled back from Grace and looked at her. “You are well?”

“Quite well,” she said. “Lord and Lady Rushton have been very kind.”