FREE! In The Arms of My Enemy (Completed!) Book 1

Lottie's Revenge

"Lottie!" Fidelia said in relief, collapsing by her sister's side at the edge of the hole. Lottie threw her arms around Fidelia's neck, clinging to her tightly.

Fidelia sighed, her frazzled nerves long past their breaking point. She wrapped her arms around her sister and squeezed until Lottie gasped for air. Fidelia took Lottie's face in her hands, examining her for injury. Her dress was torn in several places, and purple bruises bloomed on her wrist and shoulder. "Are you all right? What happened?"

Lottie sniffled, but she didn't cry as she lifted her chin and recounted her story with the aid of the young man. Le Coquin had brought her here, but she had evaded him until the young man had barged in and distracted the Frenchman long enough for Lottie to escape up the flights of stairs.

The young man kept Le Coquin distracted until Le Coquin had landed a lucky blow, evidenced by a long cut he showed them on his arm. The young man chased the Frenchman up the stairs, and that was where they were fighting when Fidelia had arrived.

"We were just lucky that the lass knew how the mill's pulley system worked," the young man said in a thick Scottish accent. He looked over at the hole, and his face darkened. "Very well done, lass."

Lottie grinned proudly, until she followed his gaze to the hole. Then she faltered.

"Who are you?" Fidelia asked the lad suspiciously.

He was a tall, strapping young man whose frame spoke of years of hard work. Shy brown eyes peeked through locks of tousled black hair as he gave a slight bow. "Thomas Hawthorne, miss. I was riding past when I heard the lass here screaming . . ."

"Thank you for helping my sister." Fidelia hugged Lottie tighter.

"I have a sister of my own and would have wanted someone to do the same for her."

Fidelia nodded with sudden understanding. He was an honorable man. "If there's ever anything you need, we'll endeavor to help you. I owe you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Hawthorne."

"Well, I am looking for work if you know of anything. I'm good with horses, and I work hard." His gaze lingered on Lottie, but not long enough to raise Fidelia's hackles.

A relieved laugh bubbled out of Fidelia, her exhaustion finally over­whelming her. "I'm sure we could find work for you."

"Is it over?" Lottie asked quietly, her shoulders sagging as the adren­aline wore off.

Fidelia kissed her sister's forehead and nodded. "It's over."

***
Fidelia and Lottie rode back to Budle's small bay, escorted by Mr. Haw­thorne. Fidelia urged her horse into a canter as they neared the small knoll, eager to return to William. Was he all right? Had he already lost too much blood?

The sight that greeted her stole her breath away. An entire cohort of British soldiers swarmed the beach while another marched inland in the direction that the French soldiers had gone.

"William?" she called, wading into the sea of uniforms. Two men blocked her way, ordering her to stop.

"Let me through," she said, giving her best impression of the countess's stern glare. "I am Lady Greyville, and I am searching for my husband."

"Lady Greyville," someone called. The soldiers parted to allow a tall man with red hair through. Amusement twinkled in his brown eyes as he paused near her horse. She noticed his arm was in a sling. "William was right. You truly are an impressive woman, ordering my men about like that. I am Mr. Hughes."

Ah, Fidelia thought, the mysterious Mr. Hughes, whom she had heard so much about. But she was too anxious for pleasantries.

"Edmund said he incapacitated you. How is it possible for you to have come so quickly?" Fidelia asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.