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She had to be here somewhere. She wouldn’t leave. Gunn’s heart beat so hard, he could feel it pounding against the walls of his chest.

“The storage rooms.”

“What?” Malcolm asked.

“Downstairs, the root cellar. The storage rooms. ’Tis the only place we havena checked.

We ne’er go down there.” He spun on his heel, rushed to the door that would lead him down the narrow steps to the earthy atmosphere below.

Pausing, he grabbed a lantern and lit the stairs, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

She wasn’t at the bottom lying in a crumpled heap.

He whispered a prayer of relief, but he noticed the disturbed dust. The marking of footprints on the steps. It had been a long time since anyone had been down here. They didn’t use these rooms anymore, so the staff stayed away.

Turning to the others, he held his finger up to his lips, hushing them.

He listened intently. And there it was. Whimpering.

Jocelyn!

How the hell had she gotten down here?

“Joss!” he called out. “We’re coming! Are ye all right?”

She didn’t answer, which made him fash even more. Mayhap she had fallen and knocked her head. She shouldn’t be on her feet, never mind going up and down stairs. Now wasn’t the time, but he would make sure she kenned better once he got her back upstairs.

Downstairs, he held up a lantern and followed the scuff marks to the closed door that led into the root cellar portion of the space.

Why would she close herself in there? Something wasn’t right. She wouldn’t do this on her own.

He turned. “Ladies, go upstairs,” he ordered, his voice low, lethal.

“We want to—” Clarissa started, but Malcolm, realizing the severity of the situation silenced her with a look.

“Go. We will be up shortly. With Jocelyn,” he added, when she refused to move.

With one last look trying to see over his shoulder, she straightened and nodded.

As the women disappeared upstairs, the men came together, speaking in hushed tones.

“What do ye think has happened?” Nicholas asked, looking toward the door.

“Joss wouldna have come down here out of curiosity. Something, or someone , chased her here.”

“Townsend?” Malcolm whispered.

“’Tis my guess. I’m going to kill him.”

His friends looked to each other, nodding. “Here we go again. We’ve got your back, brother.”

Hand on the knob, Gunn twisted and pushed, the uncoiled hinges squeaking loudly in the small space, echoing off the cold, stone walls. As soon as the door began to open, Joss screamed.

“Look out!” Jocelyn screamed.

A man rushed forward, knife in hand, catching Gunn in the shoulder. The slice burned, but he ignored it with a grunt, swinging out his arm and catching the man in the throat. He collapsed on the ground, trying to catch his breath.

But he wasn’t done. He kicked out his leg, catching Gunn in the back of the knee.

Keeping his balance, he moved into the room, and he heard his friends drag the man away from the door. They’d secure him until he could ensure Joss was okay.

He found her crouched in the corner, loud, racking sobs escaping her mouth. When she looked up, he saw her battered face, the beading of blood on her neck.

That fucking bastard! Wanting to go out and pound the fucker’s face into pulp, he needed to be strong for Joss.

Dropping to his knees beside her, he assessed her wounds, trying to keep his anger in check, but failing.

“’Tis okay, love. I’ve got ye.”

She leaped into his arms, wrapping herself around him, and sobbed into his neck, her whole body shaking. “I, I. He walked into the house. I d-don’t know how. I ran, slow, because of my ankle. He blocked the d-door. I thought, m-maybe d-down here would lead outside.”

“Shhh,” he coaxed, stroking her hair, trying to get her to catch her breath.

“You are laying with my wife!” Townsend spat from the other room. “I’ll have you hanged. Oof!” Gunn couldn’t see, but he kenned the sound of a punch to the gut well.

Jocelyn winced, her breath coming normally now. She pulled back to look at him. “I thought he was going to kill me. But then we heard you, and he stopped. She lifted her hand, and her eyes widened, her gaze moving to his shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

He tore off a strip of his shirt and dabbed at her nose. “Ye are, too.” He shrugged off her concern. “Dinna fash. We need to get ye upstairs. E’eryone is fashed.”

Picking her up, he settled her into his arms. “Ye all right?”

She nodded, and he exited the room, took note of Townsend doubled over in the corner and carried her upstairs. The women surrounded them as soon as he walked up the stairs.

“Och!”

“Jocelyn!”

“Lay her on the sofa. We will see to her,” Gwen said, shooing him away. She grabbed his arm and looked at him fiercely. “Ye do what ye need to do. She needs to be free from that monster.”

He nodded, then hurried back downstairs.

His friends had Townsend in a chair. The man looked at him with a sneer.

Quite daring for a man in his position. And also one that looked like he had to beat on women because he sure as hell couldn’t beat on a man.

“You’re fucking my wife,” he spat. “ My wife.”

“Real men dinna treat their wives with heavy hands and beatings.”

“She needs to be reminded of her place.”

Gunn’s fist met with the man’s nose, a vicious crack sounding, and Gunn kenned he’d broken it.

He grasped his face, trying to staunch the blood. “You bastard. You broke my nose!”

“Aye. How’s it feel? How do ye like being on the other side of a fist?”

He swung again, catching him in the ribs. And again, to the ribs, knowing they were cracking under the weight of his fists.

Malcolm pulled him off. “Enough, brother.”

“Ye have nay right to her anymore. Got it? Ye will divorce her, set her free, and ne’er step foot in Scotland again, or I swear to God, I will be sure ye ne’er take another breath.”

“Are ye threatening me?” Townsend wheezed, his ribs making it hard to breathe.

“Ye tried to kill a laird. That will no’ go o’er well for ye,” Finlay said. “In the presence of two dukes, no less.”

“And two earls,” Nicholas added.

“Now, I will secure ye a ride back to Rochester. My solicitor will draw up the papers. They will be to ye tomorrow. I suggest ye sign them.”

“We’ll accompany him to ensure he does,” Malcolm and Alexander said in unison.

Gunn nodded, leaving them to get Townsend gone.

He needed to check on Joss to ensure she was okay.

*

Her cheek hurt and she had a hard time seeing out of her right eye when she awoke the next morning. On the bright side, it took her mind off her ankle.

Turning to the side, she caught Gunn beside her, watching her intently. “How do ye fare this morn?”

She smiled, the movement causing her scabbed lip to break, making her wince.

“I know I must look a sight,” she said slowly. “But my heart is happy.”

He smiled, the gesture transforming his face which had been set much too seriously.

Grasping her hand, he brought it to his lips. “I was so fashed. I dinna ken what I would have done if I had lost ye.”

She pushed herself into a sitting position, her hands coming up to his cheeks, her thumbs stroking his jawline. “But I’m here. All is well, yes?”

“Ye will have your divorce, aye.”

Her heart jumped as happiness filled her. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “We can marry?”

“Aye,” he said happily. “We can. As soon as ye feel up to it.”

She frowned, remembering she wasn’t the only one who had been wounded. “Your shoulder. How is it?”

He blew off her concern. “’Twas naught, really. Just a small cut.”

There was so much blood. She knew he was downplaying the injury.

“Rest now. I’ll have some food brought up for when ye wake. Then we’ve got a future to plan.” He gave her a lopsided smile.

“I canna wait,” she said in her best Scottish brogue.

His brows lifted in surprise, and then he bellowed with laughter. “Ye can talk to me like that all day long, love.”

“I’ll be right back.” He got off the bed and headed to the door.

“Gunn?” She called.

“Aye?”

“I love you.”

“I love ye, too, Joss. More than ye can e’er ken.”