Ethan: Lord of Scandals

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“Where in the bloody, benighted, perishing hell are my sons?”

Rage and fear drove the exhaustion from Ethan Grey’s bones as he tore open closets and peered under beds in what had become the boys’ dormitory at Belle Maison.

“Jeremiah! Joshua!” He tried to keep the panic from his voice, but he’d just ridden through a gale-force storm, and it was no kind of night for two little boys to be abroad alone. A long, deafening crack of thunder drowned out Ethan’s bellows, and lightning illuminated the room.

All four little beds were empty, the sheets rumpled.

God in heaven, could his sons have taken off with John and Ford and decided to sleep in a tree house tonight of all nights? Ethan had seen a tree hit by lightning before his very eyes not an hour past, and the idea of his sons wandering around at this hour, in this weather…

“I thought I heard you,” came a pleasant baritone from the doorway.

Ethan crossed the room in three strides and glared at his younger brother. “I leave my children here with you, Nicholas, so they can get to know their uncle, and I come back to find it’s damned near midnight, they’re nowhere to be found, and you’ve lost not one but four little boys. Well?”

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