Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“ W hat do you mean she is not there?” Ezra bellowed.

Lydia had left, and according to the guards, she had been gone since nearly eight that morning. It was now eleven at night, and his messengers had just returned with word that Lydia had not been seen at her father’s nor any of their friends’ houses. The messenger from Owen’s had been the last to arrive, and he had leveraged the remainder of his sanity on the hope that he would have word of her whereabouts.

“Please forgive me, Your Grace,” the messenger replied, bowing deeply, “But Lord Knight was insistent that he had not seen the Duchess of Frampton in weeks.”

He had torn out of Frampton like a demon released from hell and had raced to London to deliver the proof that George and Whittler were one and the same. However, when Duncan informed him that George had been spotted in Frampton, all care for any proof vanished from Ezra’s mind as he stormed back to Ambrose’s stables.

His brothers had chased after him, pleading with him to rest before another ride or to at least take a carriage, but he only put up with their words long enough to saddle a horse.

“At least wait for us,” Ambrose insisted as Ezra had slung himself up into the saddle. “We can go with you, we can deal with this together.”

“Get to Frampton when you can,” he said, before racing once more down the road.

Now he was here, with word that George was in his very town, and Lydia was nowhere to be found. Had she left or been kidnapped? Had she gone somewhere on the grounds to find some space? One of the guards had gone with her, a young man named Brennan, and she had also taken her handmaid Laura. At least she was not completely alone. If she had been attacked, someone would have been there to protect her.

“Have your men search the grounds again,” Ezra commanded the guard after sending the messenger away.

“In fact, we will all search for her, not just you and your men. I just need to run to my quarters for a moment.”

“Allow one of us to go with you, Your Grace,” the guard replied, but Ezra waved him off. “I will be but a minute and the house has been guarded all day. I will be fine. Go, give your men my orders, and then head down to the staff quarters to do the same. We will find her tonight one way or another.”

The guard bowed as Ezra quickly made his way to his rooms. Thus far he had kept away from his pistols, as he found his dagger more efficient in even the most extreme circumstances. But tonight, with Lydia missing and a murderer on the loose, he wanted them at his side.

Ezra hesitated in his doorway when he saw his quarters were dark. Usually by this hour, his valet had both the candles, and the fireplace lit in preparation for his arrival. He took a furtive step inside and glanced warily into the darkness. From what he could see in the dim light from the hall, nothing seemed out of place.

I sent the servants into a flutter the moment I realized Lydia was gone. Perhaps he did not have time to light them this evening,

Deciding he was being ridiculous, Ezra pushed the door open wider and marched into his sitting room and toward the first fireplace. There, he struck a match and lit a candle, sending more light into the room. Holding onto its base, Ezra held out the candle and found the room empty.

“You just need some sleep, you paranoid fool,” Ezra muttered to himself as he opened the door to his bedroom.

How long had it been now? Thirty hours at least since he’d awoken with Lydia in his arms. It has been too long . He felt the need to find Lydia surge through him again.

He walked quickly toward the opposite end of the room where he kept his favorite weapons in an artfully crafted wardrobe. He set the candle down on the window sill so he could act quickly. Ezra opened the wardrobe doors and breathed a sigh of relief when he found his pistols exactly where he’d always kept them. He loaded and holstered his pistols with speed and precision and turned to leave.

The sudden punch in his face caused blood to gush from both nostrils. Ezra’s body flew back into the open wardrobe, the force of which knocked several of his weapons loose. Ezra blinded himself to the pain in his face as his hands curled around one of his fallen billy clubs, and he brought it down on his assailant’s head. He felt the blunt end of the billy club collide with flesh as another fist was delivered into his stomach, and he let out a strangled cough as he fell back again.

Ezra thrust himself away from the wardrobe and charged forward to drive his body into his doubled-over attacker. They tumbled together onto the floor, Ezra’s fists making a direct hit on the man’s left temple as they scrambled for power. Before Ezra could take another swing, something silver flashed in the man’s hand, and Ezra hissed as a blade sank into his right outer thigh.

A grunt ripped from his throat as he felt the searing pain and severed nerves, and he felt the strength of his leg fade as his attacker got the upper hand. Ezra threw out a wild punch and tried to fling his body forward, but the man caught his fist and flipped him over. He felt the man’s heavy weight press down on him as a rope was wrapped around his neck, and with a violent jerk of the man’s fist, Ezra began to die.

Crushing pressure began to close around Ezra’s throat as he struggled to reach the pistol trapped beneath him. As he strained for it he felt the air in his lungs rush out and freeze and he was unable to draw a fresh breath. His fingers scratched deep grooves into the floorboards as he fought to free himself, but the pressure from the rope only increased until Ezra could no longer see.

No, he thought, his mind flooding with images of Lydia. He’d never been afraid of death before. It was inevitable for all men, even those likened to demons, but he refused to accept this as his fate.

No. The thought was faint now; the images of Lydia dimming. Something far off in his brain ticked sickly, and Ezra went limp.

The shatter of ceramic was so loud in his ears that Ezra was sure that it had struck him and not his attacker. The shards of the large vase rained down on him as he felt the crushing pressure around his throat finally release. He dragged in a deep, coughing breath as his oxygen-starved lungs took in the fresh air.

“Ezra, Ezra, breathe, please.”

He heard Lydia plead above him as her shaking fingers worked to unwind the rope from his neck.

Tears sprang from Ezra’s eyes and his throat burned and ached like it was on fire. He raised one hand to touch the bruised flesh as Lydia gently pulled the last of the rope away. He took another deep breath, winced at the pain, and slowly stood up.

“Ezra,” Lydia breathed, relief flooding her tone, “I’m so sorry I left, I’m so sorry I…”

“Be quiet right now,” he commanded hoarsely, his throat burning, and then pulled her into his lap to kiss her.

Lydia let out a soft sob as she melted into his arms, her hands moving as fast as her lips as she tentatively touched his neck, jaw, hair, and shoulders, as though she needed to reassure herself that he was truly still alive. With effort, he pulled away from their kiss so he could help her up as he heard the guards flooding into the sitting room. As he did so, he felt his right leg falter. Looking down, he saw that the assailant’s knife was still stuck in his outer mid-thigh.

He looked up just in time to see Lydia notice it too. He quickly forced her to look back up into his eyes before she began to panic again.

“I am fine,” he said, his hand trembling as he smoothed her tears from her cheeks.

“You are not fine, you have been stabbed again and you were nearly strangled to death, Ezra!”

Ezra chuckled although he did not know why.

“Better me than you,” he murmured, his hands moving to tuck a mussed curl back behind her ear.

“You are not to leave my sight again until I say so,” he warned, rubbing his hands over her hands, arms, and shoulders.

He needed to stop touching her, and he did, with some effort, once she’d agreed to stay with him. As the room filled with people and additional light, with Lydia tucked under his arm he looked down on the unconscious man that had attempted to take his life. Several attempts were made to awaken him, but no matter how hard his face was slapped, the man did not stir.

“How hard did you hit him with that vase?” Ezra murmured to Lydia, feeling a glowing sense of pride for her as two of the guards hoisted the man up between them.

“I needed to ensure he was going to let go of you,” Lydia replied, her eyes sparking with bloodlust. “So, I imagine quite hard.”

“Where would you like us to take him, Your Grace?” a guard asked.

Ezra smirked at his wife’s response, then turned toward the guard.

“We still have the old dungeons down below. I believe one of those cells will work for now until my friends arrive.”

“Your Grace, I can see to his wounds myself,” Mr. Tompkins, the young physician pleaded as politely as he could.

Lydia did not look up from her work as she replied enthusiastically, “Of course you can! But I am tending to his neck either way, so you can be content with sewing up that gash in his thigh.”

Below her, Ezra attempted to chuckle and winced as it hurt his throat. Shortly after the guards had taken the man away, Lydia had had little trouble convincing Ezra to come to her quarters so she could cleanse and tend to his wounds, and he was now lying on her bed with his head in her lap.

“And you,” she said tenderly, lowering her head to Ezra’s, “Keep your throat relaxed. No more laughing at another’s scolding for a while.”

Ezra’s blue eyes shined up at her with a mixture of affection and tension. He still could not take commands well, even if they were playful. She felt his body tense and his breath quicken, and she leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. On his next breath, she felt him relax again, and she gently pulled away.

“ Shhhh ,” Lydia soothed tenderly, massaging more salve into his ring of bruises, “Everything will be all right.”

The image of seeing Ezra; his face a bright reddish purple, his body limp and nearly lifeless as the man standing atop his back choked him with a rope, was still burning in her mind. She knew that memory would always be there and would be the source of every nightmare she would ever have. She wanted vengeance, both for Ezra and for herself, and she would get it, one way or another.

“I have finished His Grace’s sutures, Your Grace,” Mr. Tompkins declared, then cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“You may check my work before you leave if you like, Mr. Tompkins,” Lydia replied.

The young physician gave her a relieved look and hurried to the head of the bed to examine Ezra’s throat. He studied his bruises carefully, touched them tenderly with his fingertips, and nodded.

“Heavily bruised, but nothing crushed,” he affirmed, then looked up at Lydia with approval. “If you had come upon him three seconds later I would not have been able to say the same.”

Lydia’s eyes fell to Ezra’s, who was staring silently and intently back at her.

“The salve is perfect, you did well, Your Grace,” Mr. Tompkins said, finishing his assessment.

Lydia accepted the praise, though she just wanted the man to be gone.

“I shall leave him in your care then,” the physician replied, bowing at his waist.

Lydia nodded toward him with respect and waited quietly as the servants entered to gather the soiled dressings and other supplies.

“I have to go downstairs,” Ezra rasped, his voice raw and gravelly from the strangulation. “I have to question him. There is a lot I can learn before Ambrose and the others…”

“ Shhhh ,” Lydia soothed, putting a calming hand on his chest as he attempted to sit up.

“You need rest first,” she insisted. “The others will be here by the time you awaken, and you can all manage this together.”

“But…”

“This is not your burden to bear alone, Ezra,” Lydia insisted, feeling a swell of emotion as she said the words.

What did she have to do? What did she have to say to make him understand?

Anger slowly began to eat away at the panic in Ezra’s eyes as he willed his body back into the bed.

“This could have been you,” he rasped, his hand reaching up for her throat.

Lydia felt her chest grow tight as his hand wrapped possessively around her neck the way she now loved. Yes, it could have been her. The man had snuck into the house unbeknownst to anyone and they were yet to determine how and when he had done so. If she had stayed after their fight, would she have been killed?

She felt terror begin to consume at the thought, but she forced it away and replied tightly, “I am fine.”

Ezra’s thumb caressed over the hollow of her throat as if marking where the lie had come from. She was not fine. Neither of them were.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, feeling her weariness take over. “I understand what is happening downstairs is important, but please, Ezra.”

Emotion churned in Ezra’s blue eyes as he mulled over her request. Then a small, wicked grin began to spread over his face.

“You see, my lady? I told you that you would be begging to get me into your bed someday.”

Ezra’s tease broke through the intensity of the day’s emotions, and Lydia let out an exhausted laugh as she pulled her lap out from under his head and stretched out beside him.

“ Ow,” Ezra laughed hoarsely as his head fell softly into the pillow, and Lydia tasted his laughter as she leaned down to kiss him.

Ezra’s chuckle smoothed into a groan as their lips met, sending a shiver of desire through her tension. She kissed him again, and his arms came around her, holding her tightly to his chest. A sob nearly escaped her throat as their kiss deepened, and she ran her hands over him again desperately.

She had almost lost him today. If she had not listened to Laura and turned back when she had, she would have been too late. Lydia did not realize she had started to cry until she felt Ezra’s lips part from hers, and he began to kiss away her tears. Muttered words of assurance poured from his badly bruised throat as he gently captured each one, making sure not a single tear escaped him.

When he had finished he crushed her lips in another, more fiery kiss, and this time she tasted his hunger. His soothing touch became more urgent, as did hers as they began to run their hands over one another. Together, they worked her out of her gown and undergarments and flung them aside the moment they could. Lydia moaned with relief when she felt Ezra’s body slide across hers.

“Your leg…” she protested, breaking the kiss.

“Will be fine,” he panted before kissing her again.

Lydia’s thoughts dissolved as Ezra deepened his kiss. His hand tightened around her throat as he parted her legs with his thigh. Lydia bucked and gushed against him when she felt his hard length bob against her waiting entrance. Ezra swallowed her moans, suckling them along with her tongue before he broke the kiss and began to make his way down her body.

Lydia’s eyelashes fluttered and her back arched as Ezra’s hands and mouth seemed to go everywhere over her all at once. He is devouring me. His teeth nipped at her neck, her nipples, and her navel. She gasped and initially resisted when he tried to turn her onto her stomach, but quickly succumbed to his advances when she felt his hot kisses trace possessively over her shoulders, her spine, down the curve of her waist, and over the small swell of both cheeks.

Ezra’s name broke from her lips in a breathless plea as she felt his tongue flick over her already dewy petals, and Lydia felt her body become weightless as she gave into his hunger.