A Woman’s Innocence

by Gayle Callen

  With an amused voice, he said, “Stop moving and he’ll calm down.”

  Once more she was forced to plaster herself against Sam. As she struggled to make herself comfortable, her hand brushed his heavy coat pocket.

  “What’s in here?” she asked, giving a tug on his coat.

  “A pistol. Someone’s already tried to kill you once.”

  She closed her eyes and involuntarily her hand went to her throat. She remembered vividly being under arrest, held in Edwin Hume’s house. A man had overcome her guards and dragged her away. She hadn’t understood who was rescuing her, but when she found herself outdoors, she’d panicked and run.

  And when he’d gotten her far enough away from the house, he’d grabbed her around the neck to strangle her. She was only still alive because Nick Wright had saved her life. The real traitor had obviously wanted her dead before any trial could happen.

  How had she forgotten that it wasn’t only the police force who wanted to capture her? She’d never had a mirror to see the bruises, but she’d felt them as she’d lain awake in jail, her throat aching.

  As the sun was setting, they left Rotherham heading east into the darkness. Julia had traveled with armies, and knew the dangers that could await her in even England’s peaceful countryside. Especially now when she had both sides of the law chasing her. As the last stone farmhouses faded away behind her, her anxiety rose so high that she hadn’t even realized she clutched Sam’s waist until he shifted forward away from her.

  “You’re holding on a bit tight, Julia,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. “Afraid you’re going to fall off?”

  “As if you could even match me in horsemanship,” she scoffed, loosening her grip.

  He hesitated, still trying to study her face. She looked away.

  “I’ll keep you safe,” he said in a low, intense voice.

  Safe? She’d rarely felt that in her life. She shrugged with bravado, even as her throat tightened with suppressed tears. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  When he finally turned forward again, she bowed her head and heaved a tired sigh.

  A few miles later, twilight hovered over the land, and the trees began to thicken, hiding the square pastures scattered across the plain. Between each trunk darker shadows lay, and she felt like there were eyes in there, watching her. Sam straightened his coat until his pocket was tugged forward. She sat up straighter to see his hand resting on the hidden pistol. So he felt uneasy, too?

  Suddenly there was the crack of a gunshot, and with a cry she flung her arms around him as the horse reared up, its neighing like a scream.

  Chapter 5

  Julia knew she wasn’t hit by a bullet, but was Sam? He flung himself off the horse, pulling her with him, just as another shot went off. This time she could tell they were being attacked from the left side of the road. Sam pulled her toward the right, keeping the horse between them and their attackers. His pistol was in his hand, but she knew he wanted to see her behind cover before he worried about returning fire.

  They heard running steps only a moment before the horse shifted sideways as someone used the far stirrup to vault over and knock Sam to the ground. Julia looked frantically for the weapon Sam had dropped, but she couldn’t tell where the pistol had gone.

  Someone caught her arm from behind, whirling her about to face him. It was a man all dressed in black, with something obscuring his face. She brought her foot up and kicked him hard between the legs. When he staggered back, clutching his injured anatomy, she looked at Sam, who was delivering a solid punch. She flung herself to her knees in the brush, continuing her search for the weapon.

  “You bitch!”

  She looked over her shoulder to see her assailant stumbling toward her. Her hands closed on a long, hard stick, and she swung it up. It caught him on the side of the head, knocking him to his knees.

  Where was the pistol?

  She saw Sam with his hands around his attacker’s neck. The man fought furiously, pulling at Sam and kicking out with his feet. Sam’s expression was almost impassive except for the wild light in his eyes. Then he heaved the man off the road, headfirst into the brush where he lay unmoving.

  The other man was staggering to his feet. Sam pushed her aside and threw himself at the last assailant. The two men rolled over one another, and she followed them, holding her stick and looking for the best chance to strike. Then Sam ended up on top, straddling his opponent, with a rock in his upraised hand. The man kneed him in the back, sending Sam sprawling.

  The assailant got to his feet and fled to the trees on the far side of the road. In the near-darkness, they couldn’t see what he was doing. They ran across the road, then had to stumble back as a horse broke through the scattered bushes. It took off at a gallop back toward Rotherham, their last assailant riding low over its neck.

  “Where’s my damn pistol?” Sam shouted.

  But before he could go search for it, they heard the frantic whinnying of a riderless horse just as it plummeted through the trees at them. She flung herself aside as Sam reached for the dangling reins and pulled the horse up short. The animal jerked angrily on the reins, then finally quieted.

  “Are you all right, Julia?” he asked, breathing heavily, wiping sweat from his forehead.

  She slowly got to her feet, feeling exhaustion surge through her now that the danger had passed. “Just bruised. I’ll be fine.” She put a hand on the horse’s neck, trying to calm it. “I assume this is the other man’s horse?”

  “Evidently.”

  He looked down the road, but already their attacker was swallowed in darkness. Softly, Sam cursed. She couldn’t see his expression well anymore, just the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the deadly line of his tightly pressed lips. There would be no full moon to guide them tonight—or to lead their attacker back.

  “You handled yourself well,” he said.

  She searched his eyes skeptically, but he appeared sincere. “Thank you. Perhaps we’d better tie up the other man.”

  They walked side by side across the road, leading the horse. She watched as Sam knelt down beside the unconscious man. After a moment, Sam sat back on his heels.

  “He’s dead. He must have broken his neck when he fell.”

  She didn’t even feel pity. “We’ll have to bury him.”

  He nodded and rose to his feet.

  “Those weren’t constables,” she said.

  “No. The traitor finds your death even more desirable now. He’ll know soon, if he doesn’t already, that I’m the one who’s protecting you.”

  “And he should be worried?” A poor joke on her part, but she had to do something to lift the terrible feeling of desperation.

  But Sam only stared at the still body of their assailant. “He already is. And he’ll soon know where we’re going.”

  “He can’t know for sure. We could be taking a circuitous route south.”

  He glanced at her. “We’ll have to be very careful.”

  Their horse, though not well trained, had lazily remained nearby, munching grass. Now he lifted his head and whinnied at the other horse. In a moment, they were bumping noses down in the grass.

  Julia was glad the body had seemed to fade into the dark shadows of approaching night. “Do you have a shovel somewhere in that pack?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll make a rock cairn just inside the woods, and I’ll come back later to bury him.”

  “We can’t look for rocks tonight.”

  “No. Let’s cover him with branches for now, and we’ll make camp just down the road.”

  The darkness was almost complete by the time they’d covered the body, and with only a quarter moon, they couldn’t travel far. They walked down the road leading the horses, looking for a stream that might widen into a clearing. Eventually, they settled for a break in the trees, and what seemed like a faint path. She followed Sam in. Tall weeds brushed her skirts, and the horses nickered softly in distress.

  She understood how
they felt. It was ghostly walking through the dark, with only Sam’s back to guide her.

  Eventually the trees thinned out, and they heard the faintest sound of splashing water. She licked her dry lips with relief.

  “Ah, my memory didn’t betray me,” he said with satisfaction.

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “I often took that road with my father when I was a lad. But it’s been almost fifteen years. I guess the deer don’t change their paths much.”

  While he saw to the horses, she carefully followed the sound of water in the darkness, tripping once in a hollow, then another time over a fallen tree limb. Finally, when the water had grown louder, she knelt down and crawled forward until the uneven ground fell away. Her hands splashed into a stream up to her wrists. With relief, she cupped water and drank deeply.

  “I wouldn’t have let you remain parched with thirst,” Sam said. “I have wine and cider.”

  “You should have told me! I had already convinced myself I could survive the night without anything.”

  His muffled “hmph” spoke volumes. He must be offended by her implication that he was unprepared. She had to remember, he was a man who’d done more with his life than simply be a gardener.

  A few minutes later, she heard the sound of a match striking, then saw the faint light of a single candle. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting how impressed she was by his preparedness. Instead, she reached down for the branches she’d stumbled over earlier. Soon they had a small fire going just a few feet from the stream.

  She sat on a blanket, her cloak protecting her back, while the front of the garment was parted to let in the warmth of the fire. She sighed with satisfaction and closed her eyes.

  When she felt his presence beside her, she looked in his direction, only to see him opening several wrapped packages.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right, I will graciously admit that you’re well prepared.”

  “Graciously?”

  She ignored his dry tone. “So what do we have?”

  Soon she was munching on chicken, bread, and cheese, washing everything down with cider.

  Sam watched her the whole time, but while she pretended not to notice, she felt his eyes upon her in the strangest, unsettling way.

  “You did well today,” he finally said.

  “For a girl?” she countered.

  “For an untrained woman. You didn’t lose your head. They could have killed us both, if you hadn’t disabled the one.”

  “But I didn’t kill him,” she said grimly.

  “Do you wish you would have?” he asked.

  She heard his astonishment. She’d never had to kill anyone, but she certainly had no qualms about it if it would save her life. “I wanted to do my part.”

  When her stomach was pleasantly full, she threw another log on the fire, then set about braiding her hair into a long plait suitable for sleeping. Sam watched her in a way that reminded her of how she used to watch him. But she’d been a girl then, and surely her glances were innocent. She didn’t know what he was thinking when he looked at her.

  Did he think her a woman duped by her brother? Too stupid to believe the truth he was convinced he knew? But how could it have been her brother who’d tried to have her killed?

  As if he could read her mind, he suddenly said, “Tell me about your life with Lewis for the last ten years.”

  Julia sighed. “We could talk all night.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned closer. “I need to know everything you can remember that might help me.”

  She stared into his eyes, golden brown with sincerity, and tried to read the truth there. Fourteen years ago, she hadn’t cared how old he was, or that her parents would object. She had thought she’d seen emotions in his eyes that might mirror her own tender feelings for him. But then he’d left to join the army so suddenly, and she’d been alone.

  She was still alone—she had to remember that.

  Sam watched Julia’s face as she talked about her awkward relationship with her brother. As if she didn’t want him to read her emotions, she often looked down into her lap, where she picked at a stray thread in the plain gown. Much as she tried to insist that her freedom mattered more than her brother’s indifference, he heard a wealth of pain in her voice, especially when she grudgingly reminded him that Sam himself had never answered her letters.

  How could he tell her that he had ached for her friendship when he was so alone in a foreign country? She couldn’t understand what it was like to know that he had no chance for anything with her beyond a stilted acquaintance. So he had protected himself by distancing her, perhaps preferring not to realize that he might have hurt her. She’d been only fourteen when he left—he’d thought she would soon be anticipating a future marriage like every other young girl, preparing her trousseau, polishing her dancing skills. He couldn’t have known that her parents would soon die, leaving her even more alone.

  But he still had every letter she’d ever sent him, even though he had never replied.

  He had so many questions, ones he knew she wouldn’t answer. Why had she no fear for her own safety, no care for her own reputation? Had her family’s indifference scarred her so badly? If that was true, he shouldn’t be so angry with her—but then, she should have been intelligent enough not to cross certain societal boundaries. Instead she’d flung herself over them.

  The only new information she provided about her brother was that he requested his transfer away from Afghanistan. If Sam could eventually procure Lewis’s military records, he’d learn the details.

  He sighed. “Let’s forget about this for tonight. We’re both tired and cold and we need to sleep.”

  “I’m not cold,” she said stiffly, stubbornly, even as she clutched her cloak tight.

  He threw the last few logs on the fire. “Well, I’m cold. Lie down and I’ll lie behind you.”

  “You will not touch me.”

  “You slept in my lap last night and didn’t have many qualms about it. Tonight you’re returning the favor by keeping me warm.”

  Sam let Julia fume in silence while he went to get the other blanket. He’d prefer her to be angry with him than worried about who might be following them. He didn’t think their attacker would return without first reporting to Lewis. So they were safe. For now.

  He stood above Julia, who sat wearing a mutinous expression. He pulled her blanket out as wide as it would go, nearly toppling her. But she held her ground and glared at him. She had no one else to focus her anger on right now, so he accepted it without comment. But he wasn’t going to freeze. He lay down behind her on his side, curling his body around her hips and thighs where she sat. He felt all of her stiffened pride.

  “You know,” he said casually, “if you lie down, you’ll have both me and my blanket to keep you warm.”

  She remained silent for a long time, until there was a distant rustle somewhere in the undergrowth. She pulled her cloak even tighter like a fortress wall, then reclined to her side regally, leaving an inch between them. He spread the blanket over them, then slung an arm over her waist, unable to suppress a shiver. He tucked his knees behind hers and pressed his chest to her slim back.

  With a sigh, she finally relaxed. “Since you’re so sensitive to the cold,” she said over her shoulder, “however did you manage traveling with an army? My tent always had a canvas wall thrown up around it, because God forbid a soldier should see me in the evening. But at least it kept out most of the drafts.”

  “You’d be surprised how warm a horse is.”

  She gave a little shudder, and he realized it wasn’t from the cold, but from trying to hold back laughter.

  “At least we’re dry,” he said.

  “God, yes. I was constantly damp on so many journeys. I couldn’t decide if that was worse than traveling in the heat.”

  “I preferred the damp. Must be my English roots. Go to sleep, Julia,” he added mildly. “Tomorrow will be a busy day.�
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  He thought she might ask for specifics, but she only sighed and squirmed a bit as if trying to get comfortable. He bore this stoically as he lay with his head on his arm. She finally settled into the same position, leaving her arm along the length of his, almost touching. Her backside curved into his hips, and he tried to think of tomorrow’s journey, rather than show her once again just how uncontrollable that part of his anatomy was.

  She fell asleep before he did, and as drowsiness stole over him, he memorized the feel of her long body, the softness of her skin, the weight of her backside nestling into him. His arm lay across her, his hand touching hard earth. Gingerly, he pressed his palm into her stomach, his thumb and forefinger just touching her ribs. Several inches either way and he’d be in paradise.

  Chapter 6

  In the morning, Julia awoke first and found herself on her back, stiff from lying on the ground—but not cold. She tried to tell herself it was due to the cloak wrapped around her and the blanket on top, not to the tall man stretched out beside her. She felt the weight of his bent arm across her stomach and chest. As she took a deep breath, she realized exactly where his hand rested, and she froze so as not to awaken him.

  She gave a silent groan and tried not to feel his hand on top of her breast. He wasn’t cupping her—there wasn’t enough of her to cup, especially when she lay on her back. A cloak and a dress and chemise still separated them. Even if he was awake, he might not realize where his hand lay, she thought with grim amusement.

  Then the humor of the situation vanished in a flood of memories of the last few weeks, of her arrest and imprisonment. Someone wanted her dead and buried, and the truth along with her. Sam was giving her this last chance at freedom, she thought, willing away tears. If she couldn’t prove her innocence, she would have to flee the country—or die.

  One step at a time. Today they would reach Hopewell Manor. The sky above was gray, but did not seem to threaten rain. Perfect traveling weather.

  Holding her breath, she gently pushed his hand down to her stomach.