Chapter 22

22

C harlotte cried for a while, using the solitude of the carriage to be as loud as she wanted. The only person who might hear her was the driver, but he looked like a kind soul, so she didn't mind. Besides, he was whistling something up there likely blocking out any sound of sniffles and sobs.

The cheerful tone of his song was at odds with Charlotte's heart, and it only made her cry harder. It was just like the struggle pulling in her heart with Alasdair and Ben on one side and Sarah and the orphanage children on the other.

To bring some clarity back and push Alasdair and his final kiss from her mind, she pulled out the last letter she had received from Sarah. Though it was cheerful, she knew Sarah well enough to read between the lines. The woman needed more help, and Charlotte was the one to provide relief.

Dearest Charlotte,

The children and I speak of you often. Little Alice asks me to make up bedtime stories with you as the heroine. At the end, you always come back to us.

The orphanage is as loud and bustling as ever. The oldest children are helpful, but sometimes, teaching them to cook or to clean is more work than doing it myself. The milkman's wife comes often, but I must admit she is more suited for playtime than discipline. The children are often more high-spirited after she leaves though I will not begrudge them some fun.

We've had difficult news about George this week. He injured himself, and the doctor has told him he must remain in bed for two weeks to heal. I believe he fell from a ladder though the man is too stubborn to tell me exactly what happened. We will get by, but I must admit I am counting down the days until you will return to us.

I don't say this to pressure you. I know you needed to protect Ben and ensure he was safe with his father. Last time you wrote you said he was beginning to speak, and my heart became so full! I hope his father is embracing the boy and making him feel confident. I know they will be sad to lose you from their home.

I imagine this letter will reach you only a few days before you depart. That means my reply to this letter will come in the form of your smiling face.

With much love,

Sarah

For the past three days, Charlotte had read the letter over and over again. She could probably recite it by heart these days. It reminded her that she was needed back there and that other children needed her attention. She couldn't abandon her friend when she did not ask to run an orphanage on her own!

Charlotte pulled the curtains to glance outside. They had been riding for a few hours, and the sun was beginning to set outside, making some of the trees sparkle as light pushed through their branches. She couldn't help dreaming of Alasdair and Ben. What were they doing at the castle? Was Ben still upset?

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall of the carriage, letting the gentle rocking lull her into sleep.

"Ye are sure ye're alright?"

Hayden eyed Alasdair as he poured another glass of whiskey. Alasdair and Orlaith had spent an hour calming Ben down and getting the boy to sleep, and Alasdair's body was still humming with anxiety from the experience.

"Aye," he barked. "And I'll thank everyone to stop askin' me that."

"Can ye blame us?" Hayden asked, chuckling at his friend. "Ye havenae scowled this much in years. Not since Ben was kidnapped."

"Dinnae compare this to Ben's kidnapping," he said, raising his voice. "Charlotte is well and leaving of her own free will."

"Aye," Hayden said, somewhat chastised, but it didn't stop him from pressing Alasdair. "But it doesnae mean this isnae a loss."

Alasdair glowered, refusing to accept this comment. He sipped from his glass and tried to calm the tight feeling in his chest.

"I dinnae bring ye here to analyze me," he said. "Tell me if we have any more leads on Ben's attackers."

Hayden's face scrunched into an expression of vexation.

"Nothing. No answers from our questioning in town. No one saw three large men come through. We asked neighboring farmers and even interviewed yer own guards, but no one saw anything. Those men were smart."

"Aye," Alasdair agreed. It was exactly what he feared. "Those men were not amateurs. They had to watch the place for days. They were here on me lands, scoping out our patterns, and I dinnae even ken it."

"None of us did," Hayden said, but this only made Alasdair feel worse.

"Where are the guards now? Ye have them posted at Ben's windows, aye?"

"Of course. We have men watching at all hours of the night. Any entrance or way into the castle is guarded. Inside as well. No one is getting Ben from this castle."

Alasdair nodded, trying to take comfort in the enhanced security. Still, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach. It was unnerving to feel like he was being watched, that some evil person was out there, waiting for the right time to strike.

"I ken it's someone close," Alasdair sighed. He drained his drink against his better judgment. His head was already feeling the effects of the alcohol. "These actions are personal. I just cannae figure out why this person wants Ben."

"Maybe they just want to hurt ye ," Hayden suggested with a shrug.

"And that is supposed to make me feel better?"

Alasdair rolled his eyes and stood up. He had to resist the urge to pour another drink. Instead, he stalked toward his desk, letting his eyes roam. He caught sight of a drawing Ben had done. It was similar to the sketch from all those weeks ago when he had drawn Alasdair and himself hand-in-hand. But this one had an addition. On the other side of Ben, he had drawn a beautiful woman with golden hair.

Alasdair pressed his fist into his desk, grinding his knuckles until they hurt. He had a sudden urge to crumple the paper, but he wouldn't do that to Ben.

Ye always kenned she would go back.

Alasdair sighed and reached for the whiskey.

Charlotte was jolted awake by the knock from the driver above her. She sat up, needing a moment to remember where she was. She had been immersed in a dream, feeling the warm sheets of a bed and a handsome man kissing up her body. At least Alasdair was still present in her dreams.

"Yes, what is it?" she asked, pushing the grogginess from her voice. It was even darker now with the last hints of sunlight fading away.

"Shall we find a spot to sleep for the night, miss?"

Charlotte remembered the journey here and the loud, rowdy inns they had stayed at. She didn't enjoy the idea of sleeping alone in one of those places without Alasdair and Hayden to protect her, but she knew the driver and the horses couldn't walk through the night.

"Yes," she called. "Let's stop at the next settlement."

"Very good, mi?—"

The man let out a cry, something loud and full of shocked pain. It sent ice through Charlotte's veins, and then the carriage jolted to a stop. The horses whinnied loudly, and Charlotte heard banging and muffled noises as it sounded like something tumbled off of the carriage.

She was frozen for a moment, knowing there was danger outside. She could stay here and hope the danger passed, but Charlotte knew she needed to check on the man. She couldn't leave him if he was injured. She pushed open the carriage door with her heart pounding. Her limbs felt like rubber in her terror.

She peered around the door, scanning the area for any assailants or wild animals who might have attacked, but she saw no one. She turned to her right, looking for the driver, and she saw a heap of a man on the ground.

"Are you all right?" she asked, rushing toward him. The man had fallen on his side, his limbs in strange angles. Charlotte bent down to examine him, checking his chest for the up and down of breathing, but she was distracted by the pool of blood forming beneath his head.

A large gash cut across the man's forehead, and she heard him moan, close to unconscious.

"It's all right," Charlotte said though she had no idea what to do. Her eyes scanned the ground, and she noticed a large rock, its face shiny with blood in the dim light. She felt her chest constrict as she realized someone had thrown this rock into the man's head.

"Are ye alright there, lass?"

The voice sent a chill up Charlotte's spine as she realized someone was behind her. She was frozen for a moment, weighing all of her options. She was desperate for a weapon, and she scanned the driver's belt for a knife or dirk, anything she could use to defend herself, but there was nothing.

Charlotte took a breath and slowly stood from the ground.

Don't show him you're afraid. Don't show fear.

She forced herself to stand tall and press her arms against her sides. Then she raised her chin, hoping she would look tough and defiant, before finally turning slowly around to face the assailant.

"So good to see ye again," the man said. Charlotte blinked, running her eyes along the man's face. She recognized him. Though it was nearly dark, and he wore a hat low over his face, Charlotte was sure she had seen the man before.

"You," Charlotte gasped as her brain put the pieces together. She gasped, ready to run, but the man was too fast. He rushed forward, grabbing Charlotte hard around her upper arm.

"How unconscionable for Alasdair to send ye out on the road with no protection," the man hissed. Charlotte squirmed, desperate to get away from him, but his fingers only squeezed harder, bruising her skin.

"Get away from me," she cried. She kicked backward, catching the man hard in the shin, and she heard his grunt.

He retaliated by wrapping his arm firmly around Charlotte's throat, constricting her windpipe. She panicked and stopped moving, feeling her air passage close as she pulled air painfully into her lungs.

"How convenient I was along the path," he whispered into her ear. And then, his voice tinged with hatred and disgust, he said, "Ye're coming with me."

Charlotte was yanked backward toward the man's horse where a man in black clothing stood nearby. Her hands were bound, and her mouth gagged before she was thrown onto a horse and carried far away from Alasdair's carriage.