Page 72 of Redemption for the Baron

Bridget didn’t answer. She reached for her gloves instead, but Catriona stepped further inside, closing the door behind her.

“No,” she said softly. “No, you’re not fooling me. You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Bridget’s fingers curled around the leather of her gloves, her jaw tightening. “I have to.”

Catriona exhaled sharply. “You’re going after him.”

Bridget didn’t deny it.

Catriona took another step closer, lowering her voice. “You don’t know what you’re walking into. This isn’t a reckless chase through the Highlands. These men are killers. They killed his lordship. You’re not talking any sense.”

Bridget lifted her chin. “I can’t just stand here and do nothing. Thomas—” She stopped herself, but Catriona’s knowing gaze didn’t waver.

“If you go,” Catriona continued, her voice tight, “then I’m going with you.”

Bridget’s heart twisted, but she forced herself to stay firm. “No, you’re not.”

Catriona let out a frustrated breath, shaking her head. “You cannot do this alone.”

Bridget’s fingers clenched into fists. “I have to.”

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

Then, as if sensing the shift, Catriona took a slow step back, eyes narrowing in realization. “You planned this,” she murmured. “You weren’t going to tell anyone.”

Bridget’s throat tightened.

Catriona reacted quickly, but Bridget was faster. Before she could reach the door, Bridget lunged, shoved her inside, slammed the door, and turned the key in the lock. The soft click was like a hammer in her chest.

“Bridget!” Catriona’s hands slammed against the wood.

Bridget’s fingers trembled as she pressed her forehead to the door. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But I can’t let you stop me.”

“Bridget, don’t do this.” Catriona’s voice turned urgent. The muffled sound of her pushing against the door broke through the quiet. “You’ll get yourself killed!”

Bridget closed her eyes for a brief moment, willing herself to shut out the doubt creeping into her chest. “I won’t,” she said, forcing the conviction into her voice. “I won’t let that happen.”

Catriona’s voice was muffled but fierce. “Bridget! Open this door. I swear if you—”

“I’m sorry,” Bridget whispered, pressing her palm against the wood for just a second before she forced herself to step back. She hesitated, then left the key in the keyhole, right where Catriona would find it.

“Lady or no lady. I will throttle you when I get out of here!” Catriona shouted.

A smile flickered across Bridget’s lips as she stepped away. “Then I’d best make it worth the trouble.”

She hurried down the corridor, her pulse racing.

The night air hit her like a slap as she stepped outside. The estate was quiet. Most of the guests had retired, and the few who still lingered were gathered in the drawing room, speaking in hushed tones about Thomas’s absence.

Bridget moved carefully through the shadows, her destination already set in her mind. Townsend’s horse.

She found him still saddled near the stables with his reins looped loosely over the hitching post. She untied the reins, soothing the beast with a gentle murmur as she checked the girth. It was a fine animal, bred for speed and endurance, precisely what she needed.

Swinging up into the saddle, she adjusted her cloak, casting one last glance toward the manor. There was no turning back now.

With a sharp nudge of her heels, she sent the horse into motion, guiding him onto the path leading away from themanor. The cool night air bit at her cheeks, the world around her narrowing to the rhythmic pound of hooves against damp earth.

Shadows stretched long beneath the moonlight, the towering trees forming a dark tunnel ahead. She leaned forward, urging the horse onward, her breath steady despite the storm raging inside her. Somewhere beyond the bend, beyond the river’s winding path, was the clearing. And Thomas.

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