by Rebecca King
“That was unnecessary,” she said chidingly.
Pie’s grin was unrepentant. “It worked though.” On more than she realised, he mused silently and shifted against the uncomfortable ache in his nether regions that didn’t seem to want to go away. Although he had released her, his arms felt strangely bereft. He had never felt such feelings before and wasn’t altogether comfortable with how easily this woman brought about the unfamiliar warmth to his heart. All trace of mirth suddenly vanished and he glanced down at his fob watch.
Twelve noon.
He glanced up at her, his gaze steadily reassuring. “Time to go.”
“There isn’t anyone there yet,” Florrie whispered, peeking out of the passage to look at the green. She still trembled, but wasn’t sure if it was through nerves or the flurry of sensation that Pie’s kisses had brought forth. She struggled to block out the tingling of her lips, and focus on the reason they were there in the first place.
“There probably won’t be. They may be watching and waiting for you to leave, so don’t worry about it. Go and deliver the pouch to the stone beside the pond. I have no doubt the man is around here somewhere.”
Florrie cast him a troubled look and drew the coins out of her pocket. She suddenly felt as though she was holding something dirty, and she had to get rid of it as soon as possible.
“Wish me luck,” she muttered. She threw him a scared look before leaving the shadows.
As she walked across the open space toward the village green, she felt positive she could feel eyes watching her. She tried to keep her tread sure and steady; her gaze locked on the huge rock sitting beside the pond. She placed one foot in front of the other and fought the urge to glance around her to seek out the presence of the Star Elite, especially Pie. Not having him by her side left her feeling strangely bereft yet she had only known him a short time. He shouldn’t mean that much to her, but he did. His presence beside her shouldn’t be that comforting, but it was. She hardly knew the man yet he had brought about feelings in her that she had never considered possible before and she wasn’t certain whether she was amazed or terrified.
She concentrated on putting one foot before the other and was about half way there when she became aware of the rumbling of carriage wheels from behind growing louder and louder. She started to move to one side of the road to allow the carriage to pass and frowned as the sudden cracking of a whip broke the silence.
The loud grinding sound behind her was accompanied by Pie’s shout.
“Look out!”
She spun around. Her eyes met and held Pie’s for a brief instant before she looked with wide, terrified eyes behind her. A scream lodged in her throat as, within the space of a heartbeat, she realised that she was facing certain death. She stumbled backward and stared into a horse’s eyes as it charged toward her. She started to fall backward; her eyes locked onto the huge carriage wheels as they raced toward her.
“Florrie!” The cry came from somewhere, but her but her mind was blocked to everything except the horrifying sight of the black carriage looming menacingly closer. She couldn’t stop it and couldn’t move quickly enough to get out of the way. Her shoulder was nudged by the heavy beast as it raced past her. She screamed as she started to fall. Her eyes locked on the long columns of the horse’s legs for an instant before she hit the ground. She lay in a heap in the middle of the road and waited for what seemed an eternity for death to claim her. Everything around her suddenly went black. She couldn’t see anything and couldn’t hear anything apart from the horrifically loud rumbling noise that seemed to swallow her up.
She waited for the pain; for the heavy jolt that would bring about the end.
Nothing happened.
All she could do was lie there and gasp, and pray. She lay face down on the floor for a second, unable to believe that she had been so close to death and survived. She glanced up to see the back of the speeding carriage as it rapidly left the scene. The horrible rumbling noise slowly disappeared and was replaced by the heavy pounding of booted feet.
“Jesus Christ, Florrie,” Pie gasped, dropping to his knees beside her. “Get a doctor,” he ordered the shocked villager who had witnessed the incident. Glancing down the road, he caught sight of Hugo as he chased after the murderous carriage. His heart thumped heavily in his chest. The sight of her disappearing beneath the carriage wheels was something that would remain with him forevermore.
With a trembling hand he eased the folds of her cloak back from her dirt smudged face.
“Florrie? Can you hear me?” His voice was husky with emotion.
Florrie lay stunned for a moment and didn’t know whether to laugh with jubilation that she had actually survived being run over, or cry over the fact that she had been so close to death. She blinked and turned her head to look at him.
“Lie still, the doctor is on his way. Where do you hurt the most?”
Florrie’s hip ached but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “I am just a bit shaken,” she whispered. She slowly turned over and sat up.
“You need to sit still and wait for the doctor. Where did the carriage hit you?” Pie ordered, scouring her from head to toe in a desperate search for injuries.
During his time on the battlefields he had seen men with limbs missing get up and attempt to walk again. He knew that just after a person was hurt they could do the most incredible things, until the pain kicked in. He wondered now if Florrie had hidden injuries that she hadn’t started to feel yet.
“Talk to me, Florrie. Where does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t, not really. The horse brushed my shoulder as it passed and I stumbled, I think.” Tears pooled in her eyes and she turned to Pie in stunned disbelief. “Did someone just try to kill me?”
Pie cursed and hauled her into his arms. He didn’t care if the village, the creditor, or half of the Star Elite were watching. The sight of her going under the carriage kept replaying in his mind, over and over, until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He felt slightly sick and, with shaking hands, eased the wild tangle of her hair back from her face. His eyes locked with hers for several minutes while he silently pleaded with her for reassurance that she was indeed alright.
“God, Florrie,” he whispered. He placed one swift, hard kiss on her lips and swept her into the tightest hug that Florrie had ever experienced. It wasn’t painful, it was just incredibly tight and, right at that moment, the most wonderful thing anyone had ever done for her.
“Did someone try to kill me?” She couldn’t understand what had happened, or why. “Did they not see me?” She asked in a small voice, growing alarmed by Pie’s continued silence.
“Let’s get you back to Crompton.” Pie pushed to his feet and drew her with him. He paused for several moments to wait to see if her legs were going to hold her up before he swooped down to pick up the pouch of coins that she had dropped. Right at that moment, he didn’t care if the creditor was the one driving the carriage or not, it was imperative that he get Florrie to safety, and quickly. He didn’t seem able to focus on anything except the sight of her disappearing under those huge wheels and the wild jumble of emotions that coursed through him at the thought that she might actually have been killed.
He was an experienced man of the world. He had been injured in armed combat more times than he cared to count, and had killed or maimed more than his fair share of adversaries. It wasn’t something he was proud of but, given he had been in life or death situations at the time, was something he could live with. His actions had ensured he survived and, to him, that was what was most important. Still, after everything he had experienced in life, nothing had shaken him more than the events of this day. He was horrified and shaken to the very core at just how easily her life could have been stolen.
Cursing himself for taking such stupid risks with her life, Pie swept her into his arms. Ignoring her protests, he stalked almost angrily across the road toward their horses that were waiting on the other side of the small row of houses. He didn’t care w
hat the creditor wanted today, he wasn’t going to get his bloody money until Pie decided to give it to him. After today, the stakes had just increased tenfold.
He wondered briefly just whether Tabatha was behind this morning’s events. After all, as the woman who was sharing a house with Florrie, she may be desperate enough to consider that she would benefit financially in some way from Florrie’s demise.
“Put me down,” Florrie protested, swiping at the tears on her cheeks.
Pie flicked her with a warning look before turning his gaze back to the road before them. His face looked like it had been carved in stone. Florrie shuddered at the ruthless menace in his gaze and wondered what she had done to incur his wrath this time.
“Who do you think it was?” Why wasn’t he answering her?
“I don’t know, darling,” Pie replied in a husky rumble. “But I am damned sure that I am going to find out and, when I do, they are going to meet justice if I have to drag them there by the scruff of their blasted neck.”
Her return to Crompton was undertaken in strained silence. She didn’t know what to make of what had happened. Was Tabatha responsible? She had been shocked to learn that Tabatha had indeed had part of the first payment on her at Crompton. She couldn’t help but wonder if the older woman had known that the creditor follow her all the way to Melvedere to collect his money.
“Are you alright?” Pie asked for about the hundredth time since he had swept her off the road.
“I am alright, just a bit shaken,” she replied softly. She entered the study before him and collapsed onto the chaise in front of the fire before her legs gave out from under her. “Where are the others?”
“They will be back,” Pie announced gravely, pushing a brandy into her hand before refilling his own glass. God, he had never been so shaken before in his entire life. He took a seat next to her and carefully clasped her hand in his. He needed a link with her, some gentle reassurance that she really was going to be alright. It was hard to tell from their clasped hands just exactly who was shaking the most, him or her, but it didn’t matter. She was alive and that was what was important at the end of the day. He stared down at her bloodied knuckles, his mind replaying over and over the horrific sight of her going under the carriage.
“I didn’t deliver the money,” she whispered, taking a tentative sip of the amber liquid. She winced as it scalded her throat on the way down. The sudden burst of warmth in her stomach did little to ease her churning emotions and she wondered if she was going to be sick.
“I don’t give a damn about the money. If he wants it, he is going to have to come and fetch it because I am not going to allow you to put yourself in such danger again.”
Florrie felt a tiny thrill of delight at his protectiveness. “Do you think the coachman was the creditor?”
Pie sighed deeply and wished he had the answers. Right now, he needed them just as much as Florrie did.
“Tell me Florrie, and I want the absolute truth from you.” He paused and waited for her nod. “Do you owe the debt?”
Florrie sighed and wondered what she would have to do to get him to believe her. “I don’t gamble, Pie. I have already told you that the debt is Tabatha’s.”
“Tabatha said she had brought the money because she had no idea if your creditors were going to turn up and she wanted to help you.”
Indignation went a long way toward settling Florrie’s nerves and she felt anger replace the consternation. “She is a liar and trying to off-load her problems onto me.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Pie about her cottage in Norfolk but, until he began to trust her a bit more, knew that she had to keep that to herself; for the time being at least.
She hated Tabatha then for her weaknesses and her duplicity. It simply wasn’t fair that the woman had involved Florrie in her problems.
“I promise you here and now that the gambler is Tabatha.” Her voice was firm; her eyes sure and steady and Pie knew without a doubt that she was telling him the truth. Beside him wasn’t a woman who was lying. She may be shaken, she may be angered, but she wasn’t a liar. He mentally heaved a sigh of relief and nodded once.
“Good enough,” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face.
“If that was the creditor though and he thinks I owe him money, why would he want me dead? It doesn’t make sense.”
“You are right, it doesn’t make sense.” Pie hated to be the one to be the bearer of bad tidings but he had not lost sight of Tabatha’s ruthless determination when she had demanded an interview with her niece last night. “Unless it was Tabatha,” he added gently, watching her carefully.
Florrie froze, her glass half way to her mouth. She turned wide, horrified eyes on Pie.
“Do you really –” She couldn’t say the words. They were lodged in her throat somewhere and wouldn’t come out. Surely even Tabatha, as cold and ruthless as she was, wouldn’t resort to outright murder, would she? She had briefly considered whether it was her step-aunt, but to hear Pie actually say the words made the possibility all that more realistic and it filled her with terror.
“I think it is a possibility that we cannot ignore right now. She is desperate Florrie, and if she has it in mind that she may benefit in some way financially from your demise, we cannot lose sight of the fact that it makes her a very dangerous woman right now.”
Pie hated to put the doubt in Florrie’s mind about her aunt’s devotion but knew that in reality, Tabatha didn’t give a damn about the woman beside him. He suspected Florrie knew that already but was too kind hearted to want to admit that someone she cared about could be that vile.
“Tell me something.” He glanced down at the swirling liquid in the glass. The myriad browns, coppers and golds that shone in the firelight were mesmerising. “Why have you stayed with her for as long as you have? I mean, I understand you have an Uncle Silas. Why haven’t you moved to live with him for a while as soon as you learned of Tabatha’s problems?”
Florrie sighed. “I felt a burden of responsibility really. Tabatha didn’t want me in the house when my parents died and made no bones about making her opinion clear. My uncle, although no better able to look after me, was at least prepared to give me a roof over my head and willingly hired a governess to look after me. I rarely saw them but when he passed away, I was the only relative Tabatha really had. I couldn’t just walk out on her.”
“When did it become clear that she had a problem?”
“I don’t know whether she was gambling when my uncle was alive. If she was, he certainly wouldn’t have discussed it with me. She continued to go out during the year of mourning, much to the consternation of those who knew her, but I don’t know whether she was gambling then. We have rubbed along together, that is about the best I can describe it.”
“So there is no love lost between you two?”
Florrie snorted derisively. “None whatsoever. I have decided to move to Norfolk,” she admitted reluctantly. She glanced furtively toward the door. Her eyes met and held Pie’s for a moment and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “This is strictly between us.”
Pie nodded. A thrill of delight that she was finally confiding in him made him temporarily forget that she should be recovering from her ordeal.
“When we leave here, I am going to return to Tabatha’s house long enough to collect my belongings and then I am moving permanently to live with my uncle, Silas and his family.” It was the truth; sort of. She was in fact going to be living in her own home about a quarter of a mile away, but Pie didn’t need to know that. She still felt the need to protect her cottage with everything she had and that meant keeping the knowledge of her new home to herself for the time being.
She caught sight of the fine trembling of her hand as she lifted the drink to her lips and took a hearty swallow of the amber liquid. The burning in her throat made her choke and she began to cough violently.
“God, don’t tell me that you have survived being run over by a carriage only to succ
umb to choking to death on alcohol,” Pie drawled ruefully, grinning when Florrie whacked his knee and threw him a mock dark look.
Florrie grabbed her throat and put the glass onto the table beside her. Her eyes watered and she sucked in huge gulps of air around the coughing. Pie began to rub her back as she hiccupped around the need to continually swallow the burning away.
“I take it that you don’t drink either.”
Florrie glared at him and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t speak; the amber liquid seemed to have burned half of her throat away.
“So you don’t drink; don’t gamble,” Pie murmured, eyeing her moistened lips hungrily. “Is there anything that you do do?”
Florrie froze and stared at him. She hadn’t forgotten his kiss earlier that day. Although she knew that he had been trying to calm her down, and his actions had worked, she wondered why he was now looking at her as though she was the only food for miles around and he was a starving man.
“Pie,” she whispered, only half pleading. She didn’t know what she was asking for. Was she asking him to stop, or carry on? She couldn’t tell; instead she remained silent and watched as his head moved closer to hers.
“Patrick,” Pie whispered, pausing only inches away from her lips.
Florrie stared at him blankly for a moment, wondering who he was talking about.
“Say my name: Patrick.”
“Patrick.”
“Good enough,” Pie murmured. His lips captured hers and he stole her breath for a second time that day.
