by Pamela Labud
“I hope you’re right.”
Ash shook his head. “Thank you for doing this. It isn’t right. I should face off Bainbridge myself.”
“Nonsense, you’ve a family to care for, important work to do. I have neither.” Michael held up his hand when his friend started to argue. “You and I both know that my shining star in Parliament dimmed a long time ago.”
“Still, you’re sacrificing a lot. I do appreciate it.”
“You are most welcome, my friend. It should prove a most interesting journey.” Michael pulled the door closed and tapped it with his cane. The carriage lurched forward and a moment later, they were off.
Chapter 4
It had been one dreadfully long hour after another. Cramped together in the carriage, bouncing over mile after mile. It wasn’t yet daylight and Bea felt as if her bones were coming apart.
She wasn’t as lucky as her maid, Molly, who’d fallen asleep within the hour of their leaving Summerton.
“You should try to rest,” Michael told her. “We won’t reach Slyddon until late afternoon.”
“I’m not tired,” she lied, doing her best to tamp down on a yawn.
“You don’t have to be angry with me. I’m not the one who’s ruined your plans, you know.”
Bea let out a huff. “No, you’re not. For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you. In fact, I blame myself.”
“Really? Are you responsible for your cousin’s duplicity or for the other man’s evil nature?”
“No, but I’m sure my sister would tell you that if I’d married any one of the multitude of boring, self-indulgent natterers who offered for me, we could have avoided it all.”
Michael crossed his arms. “She only wants what is best for you. Still fancies herself a matchmaker.” He chuckled.
“Indeed. Her one attempt and she ended up getting a husband for herself.” Bea couldn’t hold back her laughter. Michael always raised her spirits. No matter what boil she’d found herself in, he’d quickly reduce her cares to nothingness.
“A hoist in her petard, so to speak,” he said with a rumbling sound of laughter. “Certainly not up to the caliber of the dowager duchess.”
“Too true.”
“I can’t help regretting we won’t be able to finish our little contest, though. I would have found it most pleasurable to have taken your money.” He grinned.
She huffed. “As if you could have. I’ve been ducking the marriage mart far longer than you.”
His smile faltered. “It’s a most dangerous game you’re playing, Beatrice. It’s not a woman’s world. You could still suffer in the end. I don’t relish the thought of something terrible happening to you in the wilds of America.”
“Nonsense. I’ll be with a respectable family who will keep me safe. You’ve no need to worry on my account.”
He smiled at her and his concern tore at her. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d fancied herself having strong feelings for him. She’d once hoped that he’d cared for her, as well.
Of course, Michael had proven that he was not the man to be leg-shackled. He’d been seen with several women and whenever anyone broached the subject of marriage, he brushed them off, saying he’d rather be escorting several women at once than one for all eternity.
His brutal honesty had scarred her at the time, true enough. But, knowing Michael well, as she did now, she was glad that he was forthcoming about his feelings and not at all like the treacherous Andrew Hudgins.
Michael relaxed beside her. “I’m truly sorry about all this, Beatrice. If there were another way to deal with this scoundrel, I surely would.”
Bea sighed. “I know that. And I know that Ash and Caro and Amelia really do care about me. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
“You’re very fortunate to have family who loves you.”
Bea looked down at her hands. What a selfish ninny she’d been. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what? You only want to control your own fate. Who among us doesn’t want that?”
Bea smiled. “Then you understand?”
“I do,” he said. “However, life rarely cares for what we want. Sometimes we have to do what our station demands of us. For you, it means making a good match and being the best wife you can be.”
“Even if it’s not what I want for my life?”
“I’m afraid so.” He sighed. “But if it’s any consolation, I don’t have what I wanted for my life, either.”
She scoffed. “I find that hard to believe. You’re a man, after all.”
He smiled at her. “One would think that I have the luxury of being in charge of my own destiny. Unfortunately, that isn’t always the case. My father had intended another to be his heir, but unfortunate circumstances conspired against him. My older brother had been on the lake, entertaining his courtesan with tales of his great war service and, after several bottles of brandy, accidentally fell into the water. They found his body three days later. My father was most disappointed.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He waved her off. “I was a boy when it happened. My father was shattered by the loss of his favorite son. When he was left with me, it infuriated him. Even to his last breath, he cursed me.”
“But you’re his heir.”
“It doesn’t matter. He hated me. My mother was his second wife and he wasn’t kind to her at all. I was eight years old when she ran away.”
“And he never found her?”
“No, though, heaven knows, he tried hard enough.”
Beatrice sat back in her seat. Though she felt sad at Michael’s plight, she did admit that now she felt closer to him, and their conversation did help to pass the time. Dawn was just beginning to press against the horizon and she yawned, tired beyond words.
“You need to rest,” he said again. “Come here. No sense in both of us being uncomfortable.”
Beatrice scooted closer and he pulled her into his arms. She rested there and was surprised at how natural it felt, how warm and safe. Odd, how she’d never doubted Michael. He was a steadfast, steady friend.
Of course, if anyone of the upper crust saw them together like that, they would cry out scandal and she’d be ostracized for certain.
Bea bit down on that thought. She was lucky enough to have escaped public humiliation once already. No need to dwell on it.
“I know I’ve not been the best friend to you over the years,” she told him, “but I want to thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m happy to help you. And I owe Ash my life a dozen times over. The extra bonus of spending a few days with so dear a friend as you, Beatrice, is always welcome.”
Bea let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding in. “Still, you’re very good for doing it.”
That was the very last thing she remembered as she drifted off to sleep, secure in Michael’s arms. It was a cozy place, one that she thought she might have been meant to be in all along.
It was in that state, safe, protected in the small world of the carriage, that her life turned upside down. Despite Ash’s and Michael’s warnings, deep down, she hadn’t thought that the threats against her were real. It was absurd to think that a man she barely knew—a danger that others had warned her of but that she never truly believed in—was real. That was, until the very next moment…
A loud explosion shattered her slumber. An intrusive, bone-rattling sound engulfed them. Bea suddenly came awake to the sound of her own screaming.
In the next instant, the carriage, which had been going at a fast pace, suddenly tipped sideways, and before she knew what was happening, they were rolling, one, two, three times over before the barouche landed with a mind-numbing crunch on one side.
When they’d begun the roll, she and Michael had become a tangle of limbs. Her head hit sharp against his elbow, rapping her smartly and leaving her dazed.
The motion stopped and she awoke with Michael lying on top of her. She started to stru
ggle, but Michael put his hand over her mouth.
“Shhh,” he said, and she relaxed under him. Without a word, he moved over her and crept to the side of the carriage, placing his ear against what was the top of the cab. Waving her over, he waited until she righted herself and crawled to kneel beside him.
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his pistol and primed it. Then, reaching into his boot, he pulled out a small blade and handed it to her.
“If anyone tries to come in here besides me, protect yourself.” He pointed to the juncture between his leg and his groin. “Cut him there and stand back because the blood will be everywhere, but he won’t last more than ten minutes.”
“Oh.” Bea covered her mouth. “I hope I won’t have to do that.”
“But if you have to, could you?”
Her life or some highwayman’s? “I’ll do as I must,” she answered. She looked around. “Wait.” She scrambled around her until she found her maid, crumpled on the other side of the wagon. “Something’s wrong with her…”
Michael bent down beside her and checked the maid. He let out a breath and then turned to Bea.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “She’s gone.”
Bea’s heart sank. “Oh, no. I cannot believe all this.”
Michael held up his hand. “I need to check the others. Will you be all right?”
“Yes.”
He nodded to her and then, slowly standing, he reached upward to grasp the handle and then twisted it sideways. Securing one foot on the bench, he pushed open the door and climbed out of the carriage. Bea huddled down in the farthest corner, clutching the small blade against her and praying for Michael’s safety.
—
As he slipped out into the night, Michael was careful to make sure there was no one waiting to shoot him down or slit his throat. In the distance he heard the sound of hoofbeats and the low buzz of men talking. The carriage had rolled down into a ravine and he could see that the back wheel lay shattered against the side of the wagon. Straining to see in the half-moon light, he could barely make out two bodies lying in the grass just down the ravine. Either they’d been shot when the attack began or they’d been killed when the wagon landed. Either way, the groomsman and his second had died at the hands of the highwaymen.
When they’d been shot at, the horses had spooked and set off in a run. Thankfully their harnesses had broken and they’d gotten away. Michael knew that their only hope lay in their chance of escape before their attackers found them.
Returning to the side of the carriage, Michael climbed up the side of it and called to Beatrice. “We’ve little time,” he whispered. “Give me your hand and I’ll pull you out.”
“Is it safe?” she asked.
“Yes, but not for long. We’ve got to get you out of here,” he told her.
He saw her nod to him and then, standing up like a true warrior woman of centuries past, she tucked the blade into her boot and reached up to him. Grasping her arm, he pulled her up. Once she could reach the doorframe, she helped him by scooting onto its edge.
“Hurry,” he said as he scrambled to the side and jumped down. Motioning to her to follow, he held his arms out and she jumped down into them. A rush of desire went through him. She filled his arms, true enough, but he’d caught her under her skirt and his right hand now grasped a fine plump buttock.
“Michael!” He heard her gasp.
“I’ll apologize later. There’s no time,” he said, quickly setting her on the ground. He grabbed her hand and set off in a dead run, dragging her along behind him.
“Oh, dear,” she gasped as they ran toward a copse of trees. To her credit, she did keep up well; her skirts pulled up and her slender legs working, she ran full out beside him.
Just at the edge he saw one of the horses, its harness caught on a felled tree branch. There lay their only chance at escape. He heard the shouts of their attackers getting louder behind them.
“Here”—he turned to Bea—“hand me the knife.”
Holding it out to him, eyes wide with excitement, breathing in short gasps, she nodded. “They’re getting closer,” she said.
“I know.” He turned to the horse and cut it loose from the tree. Doing his best to calm the frightened animal, he muttered gentle sounds while he freed it from the branch.
“Are you going to wait until they’ve gone and try to fix the wagon?” Bea asked.
“I couldn’t fix that wreck if I wanted to. Our only chance lies in the strong legs of this fine steed.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Not just I, fair Beatrice. You and I together. We’re going to get away from here.” With that he jumped on the back of the animal and held his hand down to pull her up.
“But there’s no saddle. A lady never rides…”
“Beatrice. There’s no time. We either get away now or they’re going to kill me and cart you off to be the next Mrs. Bainbridge.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she said. Then glancing back behind her for only a moment, Beatrice clearly made up her mind. Taking his hand, she allowed him to pull her onto the back of the horse.
“Hold tight,” he ordered. Leaning on him, she reached around his waist and dug her fingers into his abdomen. Not waiting for her to change her mind, he kicked the animal in its flank. Answering his command, the horse lurched and took off in a full-out gallop.
He only hoped they’d gotten away clean.
“How long until we get to Slyddon?” she asked, her words being stolen by the wind.
“We’re not going to Slyddon. It’s better if we make camp and wait them out.”
That would mean living rough, of course. They’d stay to the trails and go straight into the New Forest and camp for now. No fine inns, no friendly faces to take them in. Fortunately, Michael was at his best when surviving off the land. He’d done so before and he’d do so again. Even if it cost him his life, he’d die saving Beatrice if he had to. And, not just because Ash had asked his help. He simply could not envision a world without her in it.
Chapter 5
Beatrice held tight as they rode well into the day. She swore she could hear the men chasing after them at every turn. The day warmed up only until mid-morning and then the rain began, a steady drizzle, and temperatures dropped as the afternoon shadows grew longer into night. The more hours that passed, the more miserable she felt.
“Will we be stopping soon?” she asked. At first she wasn’t sure he’d heard her, as the wind had begun whipping around them.
“In a bit. We can’t take the chance of them catching up.”
“Oh.” Though her spirits were sinking by the moment, she did her best to hold her feelings in check. It wouldn’t do for her to turn into a nagging harpy.
“Another hour,” he called out to her. “Maybe two. I know where there is a cabin we can stay for the time being.”
“Are you sure we’ll be safe?”
“As sure as I am of anything,” he called to her.
For almost three hours they rode and she feared that she was near to dying. With the continual downpour, cold had penetrated through her clothes, and even though Michael had pulled off his own coat to wrap around her, it made little difference.
“Don’t you need it?” she asked, her teeth chattering.
He laughed. “Of course not. Hide as thick as a camel, you know.”
Bea now sat huddled in his arms. The one time they’d stopped, he’d moved her to sit in his lap and wrapped his coat around her. She found a small measure of warmth, but only for a short time.
From that time until they approached the beaten-down cottage, she knew nothing. In and out of drowsiness, she lost track of time.
“Here we are,” he said at last. Easing off the horse, he pulled her down in his arms and carried her to the front of the cabin. The door was shut and a rusted iron lock was in place. Bea heard him curse. She thought he might have put her down, but instead only stepped back a pace and then kicked the door in. The old wood and
rusty hinges gave in easily enough.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Nowhere special,” he answered, carrying her through the cottage to where a cot sat in one corner, dried straw upon it. Settling her there, he went into the other room and came back with a coarse horse blanket and spread it across the bed.
“Here,” he said, pulling the edges up around her shoulders. “I’ll build a fire.”
“Thank you,” she barely managed. She dozed off then, and when she awoke again, she saw that he’d set a blaze in the fireplace. The room had heated up nicely despite the thick veil of smoke that hung about the room.
“First order of business is to fix that flue or we’ll choke to death.”
“Michael,” she said, “it doesn’t look that bad. Can’t it wait until morning? You’ve not rested at all.”
“I’ve gone farther on less sleep.” He turned from her and went back to his task. After clearing some sort of nest from the chimney, he found an ancient broom and began sweeping the area clear, coughing when a cloud of dusty ash swirled about him.
“For Heaven’s sake. You’ve stirred up enough dust to cause a windstorm.”
He laughed. “Once the dust settles, you’ll be thanking me.”
“If I’m still breathing.” She coughed. “Please rest for a bit,” she said.
“You’ll be fine. I’m just going to fix up a place for us to sleep for the night. This cabin can be quite cozy once we set things to right.”
“I highly doubt that,” Bea said, pulling his jacket tighter around her shoulders. “Besides, you look about to tumble over. Let’s find a spot to rest before we both fall flat.”
In spite of his efforts to appear noble, Michael felt unsteady. Their hasty retreat, the long hours in the carriage, the attack, and their flight through the night had taken their toll on his reserves.
Though there was much to do to secure the cabin, he knew he’d have to get some sleep soon or he’d collapse. That was the last thing any gentleman wanted to do in front of a lady.
Luckily, he’d found another stack of hay. Covering it with the last blanket, he beat the straw to make sure nothing else shared his bed. The fading lights of the evening shone through the cracks in the thatched roof, which he’d have to fix tomorrow. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, or else they’d be soaked before daylight. A chilly breeze passed through the room. It was going to be a very cold night as it was.