Finally, Ramsdale’s shoulders slumped. “You plan to make it right by her,” he said.
“Of course,” Ashley agreed.
“It wasn’t a question, Robinsworth. You’ll marry my daughter or you might just find yourself tossed from your own bloody tower.” He glared at Ashley until Ashley couldn’t stand it any longer.
A laugh built within him. He couldn’t fight it. Finally, it burst from his chest. Of all the things people had said to him in the past, no one had ever threatened to kill him in the way his wife was murdered. And by doing so, Ramsdale had just bought his respect for life.
“If I don’t make it right, I’ll toss my own bloody self from my own sodding tower, by God.”
Ramsdale nodded. “I’ll hold you to it.”
The bag squawked. “When the two of you are done having intercourse, I’d like to come out of the burlap.”
“Ronald, is that you?” Ramsdale asked.
“Set me free and find out,” the gnome taunted.
Ramsdale didn’t move toward the bag. Instead, he muttered to himself, “I’d better get my wife.”
That was probably a good idea. A low whistle emanated from the bag, and Ashley rolled his eyes at the sound of it. “You should be treading the boards, Ronald,” Ashley muttered. “So much theatrics bottled up within such a small body.”
“Small,” the bag harrumphed. “I might be small in stature, but I’m mighty in will.”
Suddenly, Lady Ramsdale burst into the room as though the hounds of hell were upon her heels. She skidded to a halt just in front of Ashley. “It took you long enough to show up.”
Ashley tugged his watch fob from his pocket and glanced at it. It was barely morning yet. “Next time my lady leaves me for a make-believe land, I’ll try to be more prompt when I arrive to bid you retrieve her.”
Lady Ramsdale scoffed. “Retrieve her? If you are here to bid me to retrieve her, you are sorely mistaken, Your Grace. I have neither the magic nor the strength.”
Ashley toed the burlap bag. “I have the magic and the strength,” he said. “Well, I have directions,” he corrected. Or at least he could. He hoped.
She raised one brow as she eyed the bag. “What’s in the bag?”
“Hello, Lady Ramsdale,” Ronald called from inside.
The good lady covered her mouth as a small shriek erupted. “Ronald!” she cried. She reached for the bag. But Ashley stepped between her and the object.
“Apologies, Lady Ramsdale, but his capture earns me a wish. But only if I free him.” He quickly tugged the rope that tied the bag closed. It slumped forward as Ronald wiggled within. His head popped free of the bag, his hair standing straight up like a red flag. His face was the color of a tomato. Sweat stained his underarms and shimmered on his upper lip.
“Ronald,” Lady Ramsdale said, her words coated with affection, just as much as her eyes shimmered with tears.
He bowed low before her. As low as a garden gnome could go, which was pretty low.
“Oh, don’t stand on such ridiculous ceremony, Ronald. It has been a long time.” She held out her hand to him and he pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. She swiped a tear from her cheek.
The gnome adjusted his clothing and tried to smooth his hair down, but failed miserably. “Please forgive the state of my dress. It’s not every day one is stuffed into a burlap sack and hauled across town.” He turned to glare at Ashley. “Upside down.” He snuffled. “With no air to breathe.” He coughed into his fist. “Forced to perspire.”
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Lady Ramsdale said.
“Hoped is more like it,” the viscount murmured. But his wife shot him a glance full of scorn. “Apologies,” he muttered.
“I’ll have my wish,” Ashley said, enunciating each word clearly.
The gnome turned to him with a snarl on his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, a smile breaking across his face.
Lady Ramsdale held up one finger. “Be careful, Robinsworth. Gnomes are wily little beasts.”
Ronald looked overjoyed at the thought of being called wily. “Thank you,” he said, smiling up at her as though she hung the stars and the moon in the sky.