The Duke straggled in to the Edgewood well after dark. He’d taken his horse to the stable, and cared for the tired beast himself. When he entered the inn, one look at the down cast faces of his men, and he knew they hadn’t found her. He swore loudly, and barely resisted the urge to drive his fist into something. Eisen gave him a warning shake of his head. “Why don’t you just sit down, your grace? We’ve got a bottle of Scotch whiskey to share.”
Liam sank morosely into the chair and watched dispassionately as Eisen poured the fiery liquid into a glass cup. He turned the cup in his hands, but did not lift it to his lips. He no longer felt like drinking his pain away. Willow was out here, alone and vulnerable. And he was the horse’s ass who had thrown her to the wolves. He didn’t
