Turning back, he took a single step forward. “There are too many soldiers about, Miss Young. They are quite suspicious. I should not like you to fall prey to any…”
He stopped, a tight smile on his lips. He knew he needn’t say the rest.
Her heart slowed as her mind scrambled to measure the length of his meaning. Was she in danger?
“You are most thoughtful, Captain.” Her voice was more pinched than she would have liked. “But I am sure I will—”
“I must insist. In fact…” He glanced around again, then held her with a stare that demanded he be trusted. And almost unwittingly, she did.
“Miss Young, if you would allow me, I should like to escort you home.”
Her cheeks scalded. She knew he asked not for his own gratification, but still his generosity made her glance down, heavy with reticence. “That is very kind of you, Captain. I didn’t see anyone on the road. And…and as my business here is…done…I will return immediately.”
“I insist.”
The charity in his unwavering stare seemed somehow to make her spirit incline to trust far deeper than she would have done on her own.
She lowered her lashes. “I will accept, gladly. Thank you.”
“Higley.”
A call from behind turned them both.
“What is it?” Higley didn’t care to hide the irritation in his tone. “Abrams, I’m—”
“Major Pitman wishes to see you.”
By the crouch of his brow and flex of his jaw, Hannah knew his thoughts as well as if he’d voiced them. He glanced to her, the heavy frustration replaced by strict kindness. “It seems I cannot accompany you as I’d wished. Walk swiftly. Do not stop. And do not come to town alone again, I pray you.”
The concern in his expression made her stomach twitch. What did he know that she didn’t?
“Of course.”
She glanced to the road again, praying hope against hope that Joseph would ride into view. She slid a forced smile to Higley, who bowed and started down the road toward his companion.
Abrams spoke something to him as Hannah faced the way she’d come, battling the irksome knowledge she’d failed to accomplish the very thing she’d set out to do. She looked down at the muddy ice, her legs so weighted she could hardly get them to comply with her command to move.
Peering behind, she saw Higley speaking with two others, when another man came out of a large building, speaking as loud with his motions as he did with his mouth.
Kicking her legs into action, she hurried down the road, the missive at her chest chiding her like a scorned mother. She should have kept going—and perhaps would have if not for Higley. The moment she thought to question his admonition, his sincerity cut through, and she sighed a long, audible breath.
At least another half hour of walking, and for what purpose? And what was more, this extended solitude allowed her mind to toy with thoughts she would rather evade. But silence had its way of imposing on the soul the very thing one wished to avoid. Joseph’s smile, his strength—both of body and heart—his sincerity and warm tenderness caressed her imagination.
He hadn’t meant to touch her, surely. He was only acting in simple and natural affection as any person would do.
Affection.
Her mouth went dry at the thought. He didn’t still care for her. Her feet slowed. But what if he did? Then she stopped completely. Dear Lord, what if he did?
A clomp of hooves against the ice-covered road made Hannah slow and move to the side of the road, sure Joseph would appear astride Anvil.
But he did not.
Two riders rounded the corner toward her, their scarlet coats blazoning their approach.
Her breathing stalled when the face of the first soldier met her eyes. Greene.
He stopped, the other beside him. His wiry smile curled up his face, not hiding his satisfaction at finding her alone. Resting his hands on his saddle, he glanced to his companion. “What have we here, Pryer?” He looked back to her and leaned forward. “Poor young miss. You must be chilled clear through.”
Higley’s concern of a quarter hour past blared like the warning call of a trumpet. She should never have gone out without Joseph.
“Should we not assist her, Captain?” The man called Pryer urged his mount a few steps closer. “It appears to me she is alone, and such a thing should not be. No, no.” Sneering, he turned to Greene with a laugh.
Vile man. Shoving the block of fear from impeding her path, Hannah continued forward, chin raised, refusing with her silence to offer them the reaction they craved.
“Hold on now.” Jumping down, Greene blocked her path, arms outstretched until she came to a complete stop.
Hannah struggled against a growl that churned in her chest and lunged to step around him, but he gripped her shoulder and spun her around. “This was the one I was telling you about, Pryer. Stockton’s little pet.”
The other soldier dismounted and came around the front of Greene’s horse to where she stood. Tall and thick muscled, the man’s face would have been handsome had not the gloss of lechery in his stare turned his visage to that of a gargoyle.
“She’s a pretty one.”
Eyes trailing her from head to foot, the downy hairs on Hannah’s skin stood on end.
Grinning, he looked to Greene. “Now, what would you say she’s doing out here unaccompanied?”
Hannah stepped back, throwing at them the rage that erupted and eclipsed the haze of fear. “I am returning home from town, and if you are at all a gentleman, you would let me pass…” Like a steady rope tied firm between anger and courage, her voice held firm. “Out of my way.”
“What are you about, woman?” Greene’s grip on her shoulder tightened, and he turned her to face him. “Don’t think I will be taken in. Stockton is a fool, but not I. I know you were here before—there was no hired help.”
A hotness crept up her neck, and she prayed to God he wouldn’t see it. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve told you the truth.”
His fingers dug deeper, and she yanked against his hold, but he wouldn’t release.
“Let me go!”
“Major Pitman has discovered an informant.” Greene looked to Pryer with a nod, and the man moved around to her back. “We are to question every person in town and on the road.” His dark-brown eyes slipped to ebony. “How fortunate we have found you alone.”
Panic’s double-edged sword cut swift and deep. She tried to dart away, but the iron grip of both men held her firm, grinding their fingers into her arms.
Greene pulled her back, holding her just inches from his face. Looming like a black storm, he towered over her. “You are a fragile little glass box. We need only tap you before you break apart and spill your filthy secrets.”
“I have no secrets!” With a hard pull she prepared to yank herself free, but Greene released at the same moment, and she flew backward against the ground, her head hitting the ice with a thud.
Tiny lights sparked her vision as a ruckus of laughter filled the quiet wood, making two voices sound like twenty. Get up. You must get up. Turning to her side she blinked harder and pushed to sitting. If only her head would stop spinning…
“Watch yourself there, little lady,” Pryer chided, a satisfied stretch of grin over his face
Hannah scrambled to her feet but slipped in search of her footing, when a hard boot kicked her backside. She went sprawling with a yelp, the cold ice smacking her face with a stab of pain. A hot liquid drained down her lips.
Shaking, the reality hit as hard as the unforgiving ground. Slowly, she pushed up, drops of scarlet splattering the dirty snow beneath her nose. Fear’s imposing shape shadowed her from behind as another spray of guffaws were thrown through the wood.
“Get up.” Greene kicked her again.
And again her face smacked the ground.
“Get up and let us search you. I know you are not so innocent.”
Dear Lord, help me!
Arms shaking, Hann
ah tried to right herself and to chase after the remnants of her courage that rolled away like a wheel down a hill. But she could do neither.
She pushed to her hands and looked at the soldiers who stared with faces devoid of all but hate. She spattered blood as she spoke, grimacing at the acrid taste. “I have nothing for you to find. And if you do this, you will live to regret it.”
How she could say the words she didn’t know. Perhaps fear provided more resistance than she realized. For the lie was thick, heavy. The rolled note she harbored would be found all too quickly, for surely that would be the first place they would check. Foolish, foolish girl.
Greene knelt beside her, the slap to her face quick and hard. Grasping her cheeks in his rough fingers, he forced her to look at him. “I will not be threatened. Especially not by a woman.”
Launching to his feet he motioned to Pryer. “Hold her down.” His voice scraped hard against her skin. “I’ll find what I’m looking for. Then we will see who regrets what.”
Chapter Fourteen
Joseph returned through town, feeling a bit like the powerful Atlas might have if he’d thrown the world from his back. His lungs could take in air, and it seemed even Anvil walked with a lighter step. Too bad this ritual would need to be repeated at least a few times more, perhaps every day until their two weeks were out, if the information continued to pour into his hands.
To the left of him, a handful of Redcoats argued at the corner of a two-story building. He strained his ears but could hear nothing of their conversation.
He continued on, not for the first time wondering how Hannah fared in the house alone with the men. There was naught he could do but pray and be at her side as much as possible. Anxiety pressed against his stomach like a pestle into a mortar. He should not have left her. Next time he would find reason for her to come along so his concerns wouldn’t leave a hole in his middle.
“Joseph!”
Pulling Anvil to a stop, Joseph twisted on his saddle to see Higley hurrying toward him, his companions glowering from behind.
Higley’s face was taut with creases across his brow. “Have you seen Miss Young?”
That anxiety ground harder. “Nay. Why? Was she here?”
Higley sprayed a curse. “I’d hoped somehow you’d met up with her.” He pointed down the road Joseph was headed. “She left not twenty minutes past. I told her she should not travel alone. With the search on, I fear that if the men should find her…”
Anvil sidestepped, no doubt sensing Joseph’s unrest. “She went this way?”
“Aye.”
With a nod Joseph kicked Anvil to a run and raced down the road, his heart flooding his frame with heat.
Gripping the reins between ironlike fingers, he breathed hard. She would be fine of course. Naught could happen in so short a time. Yet the rise of panic hit like a hailstorm.
’Twas a handful of agonizing minutes before he rounded a bend. Two horses stood in the middle of the road as two men in red coats were—
The view struck him so hard he leapt from his mount before coming to a stop.
Hannah lay on the ground, one soldier standing behind, the other crouching in front of her, gripping her bleeding face with his hand.
Joseph yanked on Anvil’s reins and launched from his saddle. Muscles flexed, anger ticking in his bones, he roared. Greene stood and turned in time for Joseph’s fist to meet the soft middle of his belly, knocking him backward.
Vision sheathed in red, his urge to do more than simply fight raged through Joseph like a tethered beast. That was Hannah’s blood on Greene’s fingers. The knowledge clawed, and he grabbed the back of Greene’s collar, again slamming his fist into his middle.
The other man charged at him, fists poised for impact. Joseph moved a step away from Greene, who held his hands between his legs and staggered back. Dodging the incoming blow, Joseph rammed his fist into the side of the man’s face, a spray of blood leaving his mouth as he stumbled backward. A boot to the man’s thigh and another elbow to Greene’s face soothed only a thread of his anger as the men tried again to attack from the side. He dodged, knuckles meeting jaw, then ribs. They would get this and more for what they’d done.
Grunting, the unknown man stepped back, wielding a knife from his side. A grimace of pain twitched on his face. “Two against one.”
Greene unsheathed his own dagger and lunged. Joseph whirled back but the cold blade sliced against his ribs. He growled and swung his arm around, locking his grip on Greene’s wrist. With a rough twist and hard jerk, he forced Greene’s fingers to open. Joseph kicked the blade across the road and lunged when the second man barreled forward. He plowed his shoulder into the man’s chest and hurled him to the ground. Another hard hit to the man’s face left him motionless and bleeding from his mouth.
“Joseph!”
Hannah’s voice yanked Joseph around, and he stilled. Greene’s pistol waited inches from his nose. Time slowed. Reaching up and around, Joseph grabbed Greene’s arm and launched to his feet as he pulled the man down. With a grunt of anger, he jammed his bootheel into Greene’s groin. Rolling in pain, the soldier grabbed between his legs and howled through clenched teeth.
Lungs heaving, Joseph stood over his spoils. “Stockton will hear of this.”
“You think…he will believe you…” Knees up, hands between his legs, Greene struggled to speak. “You will hang for this.”
Joseph spun to Hannah, his heart collapsing at the blood still dripping from her nose. Reaching her in a few long strides, he knelt beside her, examining her condition before quickly untying the cloth from around his neck. He held it to her nose. “Can you stand?”
“Aye.”
Reaching around her waist, he helped her up and pressed her toward Anvil. “We must get back quickly.”
Round, worried eyes clung to him. “What will they—” Her vision drifted down, and she stopped hard. “Joseph! You’re bleeding.”
The pain in his side had only now begun to wail, and even still it was more a faraway cry, for he could not think of himself before her.
“’Tis nothing.” He lifted her on the horse and swung up behind her, holding her steady with an arm around her waist. “Yaw!”
Still on the ground beside his motionless friend, Greene spewed curses as they rode past. “Stockton will hear of this. He will hang you, Young!”
Joseph held tight to her as they rode. “Do you have wounds I cannot see?”
She shook her head quick and shallow. “Nay.” She glanced behind, removing the cloth from her nose. “Joseph, I am worried about you. We must—”
“Worry not.”
Her light hand smoothed over his arm that held her, and suddenly his lungs went weightless, almost floating behind his ribs. Did she know what her touch did to him?
Again she glanced behind. “I shall tend it the moment we return home.”
He tried to protest, but she stopped him. “No argument.”
Almost as if his body obeyed a command his mind hadn’t authorized, he tugged her harder against him, speaking low in her ear. “We shall be home soon.”
And they were, thank the Lord. Leaving Anvil in the yard, Joseph dismounted and helped Hannah down. She hurried to the door, swinging it open and racing to the kitchen. He entered after and shut the door behind him.
“Come in here.” Her voice echoed toward him.
Obeying, he stepped into the kitchen, grinding his teeth against the pain that continued to crescendo.
She looked behind to see he’d joined her and motioned to the worktable against the wall. “Lean against here. I must have a look.”
Hurriedly she helped him remove his coat and unbuttoned his leather waistcoat. Staring down at the top of her hair, feeling her touch against his clothes, the pain retreated to a low throb, his pulse thundering.
Jerking her fingers back, Hannah stilled, staring at the half-unbuttoned waistcoat. “Oh, I…I suppose I should let you…do the rest.”
Turning, she busied her
self with placing a pot of water over the fire and went to the cupboard for a sheet she tore into rags. Joseph finished with the remaining buttons and let only a slight grunt free as he removed his shirt. He twisted to peer at the still-streaming gash. Deep. He looked up just as Hannah turned his direction.
Her cheeks instantly pinked as her eyes trailed from his chest to his abdomen. Masculine pride swelled through him, and another measure of the dissonant throbbing eased to the back of his mind. Striding forward, Hannah directed her gaze at his wound, not allowing him another pleasant peek at the attraction he’d spied so clear in her rosy expression.
She stood only inches from him. “Raise your arm.” Direct, calm, she plucked a bandage from the table and bent her head sideways, examining his wound from another angle. “I should not like to stitch it…” At that she looked up at him, solemn angst in the upward pinch of her brow. “I fear that shall pain you more.”
He nodded. “Wrap it first.”
She swallowed and folded a thick wad of dressing atop the draining gash. Another stab of pain jabbed, but the discomfort vanished as her dainty, cool fingers rested against his skin. Holding the dressing in place, she took another long strip and all but hugged him as she wrapped the long cloth around his torso. The neckcloth that covered her chest dusted just below his, and instantly the pain was gone and in its place a full, consuming need. She pulled back, then hugged around him again, taking the bandage around a second time. His pulse tripled, carrying him like a fallen leaf on a warm autumn breeze—blissful and heedless of where it would take him.
After a third time, she paused and tied a careful knot just below the cut. “There. ’Tis fine for now, but I shall change it again when I’ve prepared the salve.”
“Thank you.”
Hands still hovering over his abdomen, she looked up, the striking green of her eyes deepening to a dark forest of longing.
The arm he’d raised for her to continue the wrapping, he lowered, circling it around her back to hold her against him. A thrill of pleasure sparked to life as her breath caught and her neck corded.
Gaze darting to his, Hannah’s dainty hands splayed across the bandage over his abdomen, the cold tips of her fingers brushing his skin and setting fire to his chest.
So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 4) Page 14
