Page 75 of The Rake Desires the Diamond

Taylor sighed.

Harrington came out of his stupor to exhale a sharp breath. “Good God. What if Greyson… What if he…?” He dropped his forehead into his hands. “Oh, poor Katrina. The last time I spoke to her, I was so cruel. I dismissed herfeelings and spoke to her as if she was a child. And now… I will never forgive myself if something happens to her. I’ve been such a fool.”

Harrington had been a bloody arse, but this was not the time to remind him of it.

“We will reach her in time,” Evan said, as he shoved his own nightmarish fears deep.

At long last, the carriage halted in front of the manor. The massive stone structure was rather lovely. Too bad Greyson was about to lose Limestone Manor. Nay, make that all of his estates as well as his title. Well, nottoo badat all. One reaped what one sowed.

Evan exited the vehicle and sprinted across the front lawn, Taylor and Harrington at his heels.

Without waiting for someone to answer the door, they barged into Limestone Manor. Their footfalls echoed in the spacious foyer, mingling with the heavy panting from their mad dash. They halted to study the numerous paths branching from the entranceway.

“Where in the hell is she?” Harrington asked.

“We should split up,” Evan suggested. “I’ll go this way.” He pointed up a stairwell lined with gilded portraits.

His companions nodded, then broached opposite hallways.

Evan took the stairs two at a time to the landing where a man in livery, sweat dripping from his brow, stood sentry.

“Where is Greyson?” Evan asked.

“Are you here for the lady?”

Evan stepped into the man’s space. “I’m not in the bloody mood. Tell me where he is, and do not try to stop me.”

The footman held up his hands in surrender. “I will not stop you. I do not want harm to come to the lady.” He pointed down a hall. At the end stood two men in livery.

“Please help her. She is in the Crimson Chamber, and her ladyship and Lord Greyson are with her.”

The Crimson Chamber stoked horrifying images of blood-caked instruments of torture and human sacrifices.

A door opened, and a pink-clad shoulder appeared. “You will not get away with this.”

Katrina’s voice! Thank heavens.

“And who is to stop us?” Greyson asked as he tugged her back into the chamber. The door slammed closed.

The deafening roar of Evan’s blood pumping hammered in his ears as he raced toward Katrina.

“My lord,” the footman guarding the stairwell called to his back.

Although the address was incorrect, Evan slowed slightly and peered over his shoulder.

“The lady is quite brave. She even stood up to the marchioness.”

Evan mumbled, “Yes. Yes, she is,” as he bore down on the pair of footmen. With outstretched arms, they half-heartedly attempted to bar his entrance. He plowed through them and entered the room.

Although the chamber boasted a variety of red shades, there were no corpses or blood. Katrina stood in the middle of the clashing red decorating disaster, hands on hips, her hair in complete disarray. She boldly met Greyson’s gaze.

An older woman in a white wig and big-skirted gown turned to glare at Evan. “What are you doing in my home? I shall call the constabulary and have you escorted to the local gaol.”

Evan ignored the enraged woman. “Are you injured, Katrina?” he asked, shocked that he could be so angry and still maintain a gentle qualityin his voice.

“Evan!”

Katrina attempted to run to him. Greyson grasped her arm and held her in place.