Claude rode with a man's madness.
The instant he had discovered Amelia was gone, something within him snapped. The rage within his breast blazed hotter than the flames of perdition. His troops struggled to keep up with him as he galloped into the thick woods, his steed stirring up earth and leaves with each tremendous stride.
Timothy. Grace. Amelia.
He said their names over and over in his head like a chant, his heart pounding as he spurred his stallion on. He should have been there. He should have defended her. Instead, he had let her leave with that coward.
The mere mention of Lord Francis caused his blood to rage.
When, on his return to the estate, Claude saw the man casually drinking tea, he had nearly thrown him out of the window. It took every bit of willpower in him not to run a blade through his gut when he admitted that he had fled at the first sign of danger, leaving Amelia behind.
"You left her?" Claude's tone had been deathly flat.
"I—I didn't have a choice! It was every man for himself!" Francis had stammered.
Claude had leaped at him then, his fists crashing into the man's face before anyone could intervene. He deserved worse. But there was no time to waste on cowards. Claude had stormed off, bellowing orders to his men before dashing into the forest himself.
And now, here he was, charging toward a faceless foe—toward Amelia.
The trees rushed past him as the sound of far-off shouting hit his ears. He tugged hard on the reins, calling for his men to stop. The smell of smoke flavored the air. Something was afire.
Then he saw them.
Timothy and Grace.
The stable boy clutched at Grace, his small face pressed against her chest, crying wildly. Grace was battered but awake, a dagger clutched in one hand and the boy covered by her body.
Claude was on the ground in a flash.
"Where is she?" His voice was hardly human.
Grace's face contorted in pain. "They took her."
Claude curled his fists so tight his nails creased his flesh. "Where?"
Grace gulped. "I— I don't know. We tried to defend ourselves, but there were too many. Lady Amelia—she shoved Timothy aside. She saved him. Again. But they overpowered her, and they. they took her with them."
Claude let out a harsh breath, his jaw clenching. Of course she had. Amelia would risk anything for a child.
His Amelia.
"We have to go," he growled, turning back to his men. "Find them. Now."
One of his soldiers nodded. "There's a trail of blood going north, Your Grace. They couldn't have gone far."
Claude's blood froze.
A trail of blood.
Amelia had been hurt.
His fists bunched at his sides as he turned again to Grace and Timothy.
"You did fine," he said, his voice softer now. "You're safe. But Amelia is not. And I will not allow them to take her from me."
Grace nodded, resolve glinting in her fatigued eyes. Timothy blew his nose but clung to Claude's arm.
"Will you rescue her, Your Grace?"
Claude knelt to the boy's level, grasping his small shoulders firmly. "Nothingwill stop me from bringing her back."
Then, without another word, Claude mounted his horse and took off, his soldiers trailing behind him.
The search was on.