by Darcy Burke
Shit, Audrey.
Ethan pivoted and rushed back toward the tree where he’d left her. Too late.
The second man, a thick-chested brute, had Audrey by the waist. He clutched a pistol against her side, but the real threat was the blade pressed to her throat.
“Come with me, Jagger, an’ I’ll let yer gel go.”
Audrey’s skin had gone deathly gray. Her wide, aqua eyes were fixed on Ethan.
Ethan clutched the knife in his hand and considered his options, not one of which was leaving with this prick. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t play along. “How do you want to do this?”
“Drop the knife,” the man said, “then get down on your knees.”
“You going to kill me or take me back to Gin Jimmy? That is why you’ve come, isn’t it?”
“Ye’re a smart lad, but then we all know that.”
“You won’t be able to take him alone,” Audrey said, her voice sounding small but strong. She never failed to surprise Ethan with her bravery.
The rogue grinned and moved his mouth far too close to Audrey’s ear. “I don’t plan to. There’s another pair of gents just behind us.”
Audrey flinched. Ethan’s patience was wearing thin. He wanted to end this. Now. But if he missed . . .
The man’s grin turned into a malevolent sneer. He dug the knife into Audrey’s neck until a drop of blood appeared. “Drop the blade, Jagger.”
Ethan didn’t hesitate. He threw the weapon and prayed his aim was true. The knife speared into the man’s jugular. His eyes rolled and he stumbled backward.
Audrey swayed. Ethan rushed forward and caught her. “I have you!” He looked into her eyes and tried to give her some strength. But he couldn’t stay with her. Not yet.
He squeezed her arms and dashed to where the man had fallen to the ground. His eyes stared at the treetops, and his mouth sputtered as blood leaked from between his lips.
Ethan pulled his knife from his neck. Blood spilled from the wound, staining the dirt beneath him in an ever-widening pool of black-red.
Ethan wiped the blade on the man’s coat and replaced it in his boot. They needed to get out of there in case there really were two more men coming. He wasn’t sure he believed that, but wouldn’t take the chance.
He walked back to Audrey, who’d turned to watch what he’d done. He lightly clasped her arm and drew her away. “Don’t look.”
He guided her quickly through the trees, silently cursing that they had to walk past the other dead man. She kept her gaze focused straight ahead.
“On the brighter side of things,” he said, “we have two saddled horses to take us where we’re going.” There was no question now that she had to come with him.
She pulled her arm away from him. “I’m not going with you.” She didn’t make eye contact, but maintained her vacant stare. She’d changed her mind?
“I’m afraid you must. You heard him. There are more men coming.”
“I’ll ride back to Wootton Bassett. It’s what you want, isn’t it?” She’d sounded so resolute in the copse—frightened, but still brave. Now, she sounded defeated. Broken.
Ethan hated himself more than he had ever thought possible in that moment. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t let those men hurt her. Or take him.
He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “You’re coming with me. I had thought you’d be safe this far from London, but clearly that’s not the case. We need to keep going.”
“Fox will see to my safety once I get back.”
He used his sternest voice, knew that he wasn’t helping matters, but they didn’t have time to debate this. “You’re not listening to me, Audrey. Get on the horse.” He pulled her to the nearest one and tried to push her to get on.
She resisted, elbowing him in the process. “Let me go!”
He’d shocked her, like that night on the road near Hounslow when he’d killed the highwayman. She’d work through this and accept it as necessary, just like she had before. At least, he hoped she would.
He slid his hands on either side of her head and flattened her back against the side of the animal. “Audrey.” He pressed his fingers gently against her scalp. “You’re not thinking clearly. I know that was traumatic. But I had to kill them. It was that, or let them kill me, because that’s the only other way that would’ve ended.”
Emotion finally entered her eyes, dark and soul-piercing. “Why won’t you go back to Wootton Bassett? Bow Street is a better alternative than having to kill to stay alive.”
He wouldn’t argue with her that fighting for his life was second nature, that he’d rather kill a thousand of Gin Jimmy’s hirelings than take his chances with the hangman’s noose.
Why he finally decided to be honest with her, he didn’t know. He just knew he needed her to come with him and he’d do anything to make that happen. He leaned closer and stared into her eyes. “Because I’m wanted for murder and I’ve no wish to dangle from a rope.”
Audrey endured the next day and a half with barely a word to Ethan. They’d ridden well past dark the previous night, but the moon had lit their way to a small inn on the outskirts of Bath. Ethan would’ve preferred to sleep in a barn again, but they’d had to change horses. They’d ridden theirs too hard for too long. So they’d found a coaching inn where they’d replaced their mounts—which included acquiring a ladies’ saddle for Audrey—and slept for a few hours.
That early morning stop seemed forever ago, though it was only dusk of the same day. They’d just skirted the town of Glastonbury—they avoided entering any place that was too populated—and Ethan had informed her a while ago that they’d stop when they reached Street, a small village a few miles away. He still didn’t trust her enough to share their ultimate destination. If he hadn’t been so purposeful in their travel, she might’ve doubted he even had one.
Weariness overcame her and she closed her eyes as her mount plodded along. She’d slept last night, early this morning really, out of pure exhaustion, but the images of the men Ethan had killed permeated her dreams. She didn’t really blame him, not when he’d done it to save their lives. The part she couldn’t quite process was the ease with which he’d done it. He’d thrown that knife as if he’d done it every day of his life, and he’d shown the same remorse one might when one squashed a fly, which is to say none. And now she knew the truth of his escape from London: Bow Street wanted to arrest him for murder. She’d been too stunned to ask for more information, too overwhelmed by the events that had transpired.
“You’re not falling asleep are you?” His voice, coming from her right, jolted her eyes open.
“No.”
“I know you’re tired. We’re nearly there,” he said.
“To Street, but where after that? I wish you would tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”
His mouth pressed into a tight line. “I can’t afford for you to let it slip by accident.”
She glared at him. “I’m not a simpleton.”
“I didn’t say you were, but you’re also not skilled in deception.”
She thought of the times she’d fooled everyone at Lockwood House into thinking she was a man. “I’m better at that than you think.”
He cast her a sidelong glance. “Indeed?”
“Don’t ask me about it. I’ll be as closemouthed as you.” She actually took solace in having a secret to keep from him. “Don’t think that your revelation yesterday has softened my temper.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He sounded amused, the blighter.
She was so bloody tired of his half-answers and cheeky attitude. She drew her horse to a stop. He rode a few yards in front of her before stopping and turning back.
She walked her horse up beside him. “Did you commit murder? Aside from yesterday. And the highwayman. And that boy you killed when you were younger.” Four people. He’d killed at least four people. She shouldn’t be surprised if there were more.
“Are you asking me if I did what Bow Stre
et is accusing me of? No, I did not.”
Some of the tension leaked out of her, causing her frame to wilt a little. Instinctively, she believed him, but why? What cause had he given her to trust him? He’d kept her safe, protected her at the greatest of costs. But he still wouldn’t open himself to her.
“Why should I believe you?” She held up her hand to stop him from speaking, though realizing he likely wouldn’t have said a word—at least not on that subject. “Never mind. I don’t care to know. I only want to get wherever we’re going. Do you want to leave me there too?”
His jaw clenched as he stared at her. At length he finally answered. “I don’t know.”
Maybe he didn’t have a destination. He hadn’t before. “Do you even know where we’re going?”
“Yes. Very far from London. Someplace I hope you’ll be safe.”
She tried to conceive of where he might take her, but then how would she know anything that went on in his secretive mind? She was surprised to hear that he even knew of anyone or any place outside London, let alone “very far” away. “You thought I’d be safe in Wootton Bassett.”
His stare turned into a glower. “For now, we need to keep moving. I’ll figure out what to do when we get where we’re going.”
She’d had enough of his cavalier behavior. “You’ll figure out what to do. Am I not to be consulted?”
He tore his gaze from hers. “Dammit, Audrey, I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”
She sharpened her tone. “My parents have also tried to do what’s best for me—in their opinion. I think I should like to decide what’s best for me. That’s the reason I came with you.”
He glanced at her, but his expression was unreadable. “We need to find a place to stay.” He kicked his horse forward. Since she didn’t want to linger in the middle of nowhere, she followed him. “To conserve money, we can’t stay at an inn every night. I’d like to find a cottage or a house that might take us in. A vicarage would be good—they’re keen on helping others.”
That made sense. “You plan to simply ask for lodging?”
“You’re expecting a child, and we can’t travel anymore today.”
“What?” It was a good thing she was on a horse, because if she’d been walking, she would’ve tripped.
He shot her as sidelong glance. “We want them to take pity on us. Do you have a better idea?”
No, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Two days ago, the idea of pretending such nonsense would’ve made her laugh. She’d enjoyed faking their engagement in Wootton Bassett. She’d never felt more alive, more wanted. “And why are we traveling on horseback with nothing but the clothes on our backs?”
“I’m your brother and I’m helping you escape your abusive husband.”
Her brother. So much for a sham romance. She looked over at Ethan. He looked like a farmer in his floppy hat, but beneath the brim was the visage of a hard man, a criminal who’d seen and done unspeakable things. His kisses had enthralled her, but what more could he promise her? He’d done her a great service by sending her back to her room the other night, and if she were smart she’d welcome any space between them.
They passed the gates to a wide drive. Audrey looked up and saw a manor house atop a hill. It was stately and beautiful with the setting sun coloring the windows a burnished gold.
They rode another few minutes before Ethan’s sharp voice drew her attention. “Audrey.” He inclined his head toward an intersection with a narrow lane where a man was watching them.
The man stepped into the road. Ethan’s hand drifted toward his boot. Hoping to avoid another violent act, Audrey rode past Ethan and engaged the man. He looked to be past thirty, with ragged hair, and an untrimmed beard. His clothing was in good condition, but a bit dirty. He tipped his hat at her, which she found encouraging.
“Good evening, kind sir,” Audrey said as Ethan rode up beside her.
“Evening, miss.” His gaze darted to Ethan.
“I’m Miss Hughes.” Belatedly, she realized she was supposed to be married. Oh well. “This is my brother.”
Ethan inclined his head. “We’re looking for a place to stay for the night.”
“I expect so.” The man looked up at the darkening sky. “Not many places to stay in Street.”
“We’re a bit low on funds, as well,” Ethan said. “Perhaps you can direct us somewhere with a tendency for generosity.”
The man nodded. “Can’t rightly think of such a place. But you’re welcome to stay with me. I’m Peck. I live in the hermitage at Versant House.”
That must be the manor house they’d passed. Audrey had known of a few hermits at grand houses, but had never met one. “Thank you for your kindness.”
Ethan looked over at her, and she could tell from the set of his mouth that he wasn’t convinced they should accompany the hermit. Audrey thought it was the best they could hope for. The hermit wouldn’t tell anyone about them. It would afford them a level of anonymity they likely wouldn’t find anywhere else.
She stepped her horse closer to his. “Come, brother. The hermit seems a kindly fellow, and he’s all alone.”
With a subtle nod of his head, he seemed to get her meaning. “Very well.” He looked down at the hermit. “Lead the way.”
“’Tisn’t far.” He led them down the narrow path for perhaps a half mile, before cutting through some rougher terrain to a small clearing nestled in a grove of trees. He gestured to a small stone structure. “My humble abode.”
Humble indeed. It boasted a single room and a dirt floor, though at least it had a hearth.
The hermit gestured toward the trees. “Just tie your beasts up. I can’t offer lodgings for them, but there’s fresh grass, plus an apple tree and a stream over yonder.” He pointed opposite the way they’d come.
Ethan climbed off his horse and Audrey followed suit. He took care of tying them up and unsaddling them, then used his hands to brush his mount as best he could, while Audrey did the same for hers. Meanwhile, the hermit had gone into his little house.
“What the hell is a hermitage?” Ethan asked.
He’d never heard of one? But why would he have? “Some large houses like the one we passed keep hermitages—small houses or even caves. Most are follies, but this one is real. It seems Versant House keeps a live hermit.”
His eyes widened in horror. “What does that mean—keep? Is he a pet?”
She shook her head, smiling at his reaction. “No. He likely prefers to live on his own and in the elements. Some landowners employ a hermit to provide a sort of entertainment for their visitors.”
Ethan paused in brushing his horse. “I don’t understand.”
Audrey chuckled. “No, I don’t imagine you would. It’s an odd situation, really, though it’s not as popular as it once was, according to my father. As I said, in many cases there is just a hermitage, an abode like that one that looks rather charming and fanciful. However, sometimes there’s an actual person who lives there to give truth to the myth, bringing the fantastical to life.”
Ethan shook his head, appearing altogether perplexed. “I will never understand the eccentricities of the wealthy. He’s paid to live out here alone because it might amuse the landowner and his friends?”
“That’s about right.” Though when he said it, the notion did indeed sound absolutely ludicrous. “It suits the hermit fine, so it’s not a hurtful arrangement.”
“I understand.” He sounded as if he really didn’t.
Audrey finished brushing her mount. “I’m going to pick apples for the horses. They should eat something beyond grass.” Both had been grazing since they’d been tied up.
“No, let me. I’ll water them too.”
Audrey watched him pick his way through the shrubbery and wished they could go back to the way they’d been in Wootton Bassett. Rolling down a hill seemed so far away. It was part of the adventure she’d longed for, but she realized it was only a piece of it. This, now, fighting for their survival is
what she would’ve done had she made her way to America. Was it what she truly wanted? It could be, with the right person. But was Ethan the right person?
“I have rabbit stew for dinner.” The hermit’s voice startled her from her thoughts. “Come inside.” He beckoned her from the doorway.
“My brother’s gone to get apples for the horses.” She glanced back toward the way Ethan had gone.
“He’ll come in when he gets back.”
Nodding, she went into the small hermitage. She’d been in one once, but it had been a folly while this was a real home. The interior was dark, with a single window on the opposite wall. A fire sparked in the hearth, its heat permeating the space to make it quite warm. There was a narrow bed in the corner and a single chair with a rickety table.
“I don’t have enough seating, but the rug is comfortable enough.” He gestured to the oval carpet placed in front of the hearth. “His lordship likes to give me things he doesn’t need anymore.”
Not very many things it seemed, but it was better than nothing. She sank down to the carpet and curled her feet to the side. She pulled her bonnet from her head and immediately felt her hair slump to the side in rebellion against the few pins she had left tucked into the curly mass. “You’re happy here?”
Though she’d explained the arrangement to Ethan, she wasn’t sure she didn’t share at least a portion of his surprise at such a situation. Particularly the living outside and alone, which she supposed was the crux of it.
“Oh yes,” the hermit answered, kneeling before the hearth to spoon the stew into three bowls, which once again looked like castoffs from the manor house. “Solitude suits me just fine, but I do appreciate company now and again.” He smiled at her warmly, then handed her a steaming bowl. He fetched three spoons from a small cupboard in the corner and gave her one. “Where are you and your brother headed?”
Ethan would want her to be noncommittal. She tried to mimic the way he danced around questions. “We’re just passing through.” Though Ethan had given her a concrete story to tell, she found she didn’t even want to pretend such an awful existence. “My brother is going to be a teacher at a boys’ academy, and he secured a position for me as housekeeper for the headmaster.”
