by Rebecca King
“You have a gun?” Rose gasped.
Barnaby didn’t even bother to look at her. “Of course. Take the horse deeper into the woods, Rose, and keep quiet. I will come and find you when I am done here.”
He glared at her while he was reloading his gun when she didn’t move. “Hurry.”
Rose stared at him in horror but now as not the time to argue. Eyeing the horse warily, she grabbed hold of the leather straps wrapped around the animal’s head and tugged it through the trees as instructed. She had no idea how far she should go and hated to lose sight of Barnaby but kept going, all the while listening of the loud blast of gunfire behind her.
“Please be alright,” she whispered tearfully.
“Talking about me?”
She gasped and whirled around at the husky whisper directly in her ear. The flash of his smile in the night made her want to smack him for worrying her. Instead, she threw him a dour look, which swiftly turned to shock when she realised he had no shirt on.
“What on earth are you doing?” she whispered, staring at the vast expanse of masculine chest now inches from her nose.
Oh Lordy, he is gorgeous.
“Catching influenza,” he replied dryly, oblivious to her slow perusal. “Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her through the trees only to stop after only a few steps. “We have to leave the horse behind I am afraid.”
“We can’t just abandon him,” Rose protested. “How is he to feed himself? No, I won’t do it.”
Barnaby shook his head in disbelief. He was now chilled to the bone and annoyed that Fate was so determinedly conspiring against them all the damned time. The last thing he needed was to have to coax some recalcitrant female into staying safe. Still, he couldn’t leave Rose to her own devices any more than she could leave the horse.
“Alright, but hurry up,” he growled.
With Barnaby tugging on one hand and the horse tugging on the other as it carefully picked its way through the broken branches on the floor, Rose felt as though she was being torn in two. Her shoulders soon began to ache, but she refused to relinquish her hold on the horse. Nor could she let go of Barnaby.
“Will you slow down,” she pleaded.
“We need to be quick,” Barnaby replied without breaking his stride.
“I can’t go any faster,” she protested. “I can’t see where I am going and neither can the horse.”
“Hurry up,” he urged again just a few steps later.
When it became evident that Rose couldn’t move fast enough, partly because of the horse and partly because of her dress and dancing slippers, Barnaby hauled her into his arms.
“No, put me down,” she hissed when she found herself slung over his shoulder for the second time that night; his bare shoulder this time.
She watched him throw his cloak and shirt over the horse’s back and sighed in dismay.
“No,” Barnaby growled as he snatched the horse’s reins off her.
Picking up the pace, he clicked the animal on and forged a path through the woods. Now and then he stopped to listen for movement behind them but could hear nothing beyond the thundering of his own heart. Rather than be lulled into any false sense of security, Barnaby remained watchful and alert as he traversed the uneven landscape with determined strides until they reached a clearing on the other side.
“We need to get you out of that dress,” Barnaby growled as he deposited her onto her feet.
“I will not take it off,” Rose protested. She winced when she moved and coarse twigs bit mercilessly into the tender soles of her feet but didn’t utter a word of protest. She was still breathless from her journey. “You really do have to stop carrying me over your shoulder like that,” she grumbled as she rubbed her sore stomach.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered suddenly. Pushing her before him, he nudged her behind a fallen log and stood protectively over her while he studied the trees. “Cover your dress up.”
Rose immediately knelt on the ground and studied the trees. She couldn’t hear anything. She wanted to ask him what he had heard but daren’t. Instead, she caught the cloak he threw at her and quickly tugged it over her clothing. The sight of his carved features bathed in shadows was somewhat sinister, and reinforced the fact that in spite of their time together, and everything they had shared, Barnaby was still a stranger. The man now squatting beside her, one hand clenched tightly around a gun, was hard, threatening even, and someone she didn’t recognise. It galled her to admit it but she still didn’t know anything about him because he had refused to tell her. That realisation was enough to fuel Rose’s deep disquiet about the whole situation.
Could she trust him after all? Or was Barnaby keeping his real identity from her for a more sinister reason? One thing was for certain, Rose was now stuck between a rock and a hard place. Either way, her future was now as bleak as it had ever been.
What shocked her even more than the situation she was in was the realisation that in spite of everything, she still didn’t want to go home.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Barnaby put his finger to his lips. His eyes silently pleaded with her to do as he asked without screeching, protesting, or asking any questions. Thankfully, she seemed to get the message because she remained mute as she crept quietly through the woods behind him.
Barnaby was her lifeline and nothing was going to part her from him. Rose didn’t know which was worse; being able to see Chadwick behind them, or not knowing where he was. She had to rely on Barnaby to know what he was doing. She kept looking behind them but all she could see were shadows and trees. She had never been so terrified in her life.
“This way,” Barnaby breathed into her ear.
Rose was amazed when a sensual shiver of awareness slithered down her spine. Here she was in the middle of the night, frozen, scared out of her wits with a killer chasing her, and all she could think of was how wonderful it was to have him close to her. It was scandalous really, and more than a little worrying.
“Where are we going?” Rose whispered.
“This way,” Barnaby replied. He pointed to the edge of the woods and a low stone wall which ran along the edge of what she presumed was a field.
Rose hesitated. She had no idea how someone who didn’t know the area knew where he should go but Barnaby did. If she lagged behind, or objected, she knew he could vanish into the woods and abandon her if he wanted to. He didn’t have to help her. He didn’t even have to be there, especially half naked as he was. But he was. He was risking life and limb to keep her out of Chadwick’s clutches. Given that he had also witnessed the murder of those two men in the yard, she had to wonder why he was going to so much time and effort to take her to London. He was just as much of a witness as she was. Of course, he hadn’t mentioned that. Tucking that thought into the far recesses of her mind to cogitate over later, Rose forcibly kept her attention on staying alive.
“I need to stop for a bit,” she gasped nearly a mile later when she could no longer keep up the rapid pace, and Barnaby didn’t seem inclined to slow down.
“We can’t,” Barnaby replied firmly.
“You need to put this cloak back on before you are ill,” she gasped in a desperate attempt to get him to stop even for a few minutes. She yanked the cloak off her shoulders, bracing herself against the immediate chill, and threw the cloak over to him. “Put something on or you will get sick.”
“I am fine,” Barnaby breathed.
“You are frozen,” Rose protested. “The last thing either of us need is for you to get ill.”
“Rose,” Barnaby grunted. He tried to catch hold of her hands but he was shaking too much from the cold that had permeated his bones. It was foolish to hold a gun or even attempt to shoot it while he was trembling so badly. While he knew she was right, her lack of covering now put her in incredible danger because her dress would be visible from miles away.
“Keep it on,” she urged him. “Let’s rest for a while.”
“We need to
carry on for a while.” Barnaby contradicted.
As he spoke he studied her flimsy slippers. He knew they afforded her no protection at all from the soggy ground and stone pathway yet she hadn’t murmured one word of protest. He scratched his head and glanced around them but could see little with the heavy rain clouds gathering in the sky. The moon had guided them for the last few minutes, but that had now been obliterated by the deluge yet to come. Their situation was becoming increasingly dire with each hour that passed. So much so that Barnaby knew that if they didn’t find some sort of cover they were going to be dead by morning anyway and it would not be because of Chadwick.
“There is a farmhouse down the road. Look,” Rose gasped excitedly. “Can we not go there?” There was a hint of plea in her voice she made no attempt to hide.
Barnaby hesitated. His first instinct was to shake his head but in all conscience he couldn’t. The house was their only option now. Although Chadwick was likely to go there too if he happened to stumble across it, or at least keep a watch on the place, Barnaby couldn’t keep Rose out in the middle of the moors, unprotected from the elements and slowly freezing to death. He couldn’t have it on his conscience if she became ill and died.
“We have to. If only to get a change of clothing that is warmer,” he replied. “Come on.”
“What do I do with the horse?” Rose asked as she warily eyed the beast behind her.
“We can keep him with us for the time being.” Barnaby turned his attention to the farmhouse now only a few feet away. “Stay here.” He motioned to a low stone wall. “I won’t be long.”
Rose realised he intended to leave her all alone and immediately balked at the idea.
“You can’t leave me here. What if he sees me?”
“Run,” Barnaby replied briskly. “You can’t come with me. Just stay here with the horse. If you hear any gunfire, get onto that horse however you can and get out of here. Don’t hesitate, don’t wait for me, and don’t look back.”
“But I can’t leave you,” she whispered knowing he was asking her to do the unthinkable.
“You must, Rose.”
“No. I won’t.”
There wasn’t the time to waste to argue with her. Heaving a sigh, he did the only thing he could think of. He hauled her against him and kissed her. It was hard, it was over as quickly as it had begun, and it left them both gasping for breath and a little stunned by the ferocity of it. Before he could succumb to temptation again, Barnaby stepped away from her and vaulted over the wall.
“Barnaby,” Rose hissed, only to stare at him in disbelief when he abandoned her.
She stared at the spot in the darkness where he had vanished for several moments before the cutting wind blowing over the wall became too cold to bear. Turning to face the horse, she leant her hips against the wall to wait for Barnaby to return. With nothing else to do, her attention turned to the enigma of the man who had turned her entire life on its head. She felt somewhat proprietary toward him after what they had been through together. It was wrong of her she knew but she just couldn’t see him as a stranger any more. He might have a loved one or, worse, a wife waiting at home for him but out here, with such dangers close at hand, it was difficult to remember that.
“You must,” she whispered aloud. Men like Barnaby were always invariably married or betrothed to some beautiful woman who could do everything with ease. Now that she came to think about it, it would be highly unusual for someone like Barnaby not to have a wife keeping the home fires burning. If she asked him though, would he tell her? He didn’t seem inclined to want to tell her anything about himself, so there was nothing she could do if he did have a lover at home. At some point she would have to insist on him answering a few of her questions for a change but it would have to be later when there was less danger afoot.
Before she could decide on what she should ask him, the crack of a twig nearby broke into her thoughts. To Rose’s nervous senses the noise was as loud and startling as gunfire. Her eyes widened with fear. She knew it wasn’t Barnaby. He had vanished into the night in front of her whereas the noise came from behind her. The horse hadn’t moved. It now stood dozing sleepily next to the wall.
Sick with fear, Rose remained perfectly still and listened for the sound again. It wasn’t long before the dull thud of approaching footsteps drew her attention but it was difficult to tell where they were coming from. Was Barnaby back? Overjoyed at the prospect, Rose pushed away from the wall and turned around.
Her scream was all Barnaby heard. Spinning on his heel he raced back down the garden path, his eyes locked on the two figures he could see wrestling in the shadows. His world slowed to a haunting speed as he watched Chadwick’s arm lift. The heavy weapon he held in his hand was horrifying, especially when it was pointed directly at Rose’s head. Barnaby knew he had seconds to act before she became Chadwick’s third victim. Withdrawing his small pistol from his boot, he took aim and fired. The retort wasn’t as loud as his heavy pistol, which was tucked inside the pocket of his cloak still, but it was enough.
Chadwick jerked violently when the bullet hit his hand. His gun flew through the air and disappeared but that didn’t put the criminal off what he was there to do. Now that he couldn’t shoot her, Chadwick appeared determined to drag Rose away from the area and lifted her off her feet.
“Damn it,” Barnaby swore as he broke into a run, his gaze locked on Chadwick, who stumbled backward beneath the force of Rose’s wriggling protests.
“Get off me you oaf,” Rose cried loudly as she pulled at his arms and kicked out at her captor. Thankfully, she managed to break free and quickly raced for the wall.
“Get down!” Barnaby yelled at her, trying to take aim at Chadwick again.
At the sound of Barnaby’s voice, every survival instinct Rose never knew she possessed suddenly clicked somewhere deep within her. Without thinking, she lifted one of the small stones off the top of the wall next to her and threw it at Chadwick’s chest. It was heavy enough to make the man grunt as it hit him and stop him coming after her. Rose then picked up another stone and threw that at Chadwick as well.
“Do that again,” Chadwick snarled, rubbing his sore chest.
“Alright,” Rose replied, and did just that.
Barnaby swore when Rose didn’t appear to have heard him and instead began to talk to the man. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“You witch,” Chadwick snarled. “Get over here.”
“Go to Hell,” Rose snapped.
To show him how determined she was not to comply with his demands Rose picked up another stone and threw it at him. Unfortunately, this one was larger and hit the ground at the man’s feet without doing any damage. When her fingers searched for another rock and came up empty, Rose knew she had made a foolish mistake by lingering. She began to back away warily.
Enraged, Chadwick vaulted over the wall as though it wasn’t there. Rose’s eyes widened as she found him suddenly charging toward her, his face a mask of arrogant contempt.
“Rose, run!” Barnaby shouted.
Lifting her skirts, Rose did just that. Rather than leave the area though, she spun toward the horse which had jogged nervously toward the far corner of the field away from the gunfire.
Chadwick tried to grab her but Rose stumbled out of his reach. Barnaby lifted his gun. He tried to take aim but with Rose in his line of fire he couldn’t take the risk that she would get caught in the cross fire. Swearing roundly, he raced toward the thug, but not before Chadwick managed to catch up with Rose. To Barnaby’s horror, the killer grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her to an abrupt halt.
“Ow! Get off me,” Rose protested loudly.
“Let her go, Chadwick. I know who you are. I promise you now that I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth if you harm her,” Barnaby snarled.
Chadwick threw him a dismissive glance, his lip curled contemptuously as he hauled Rose before him to use as a human shield.
Pain lanced across
Rose’s scalp but at least she could see Barnaby now that Chadwick had turned her to face him. She had no choice but to follow her captor’s every command now. Not to do so bought her pain that was so excruciating her vision blurred.
“Stay back,” Chadwick ordered. He lifted a knife to Rose’s throat. “Get yer gun down or I’ll cut her.”
“Go to Hell,” Barnaby snarled.
“I mean it,” Chadwick warned.
“So do I.”
To Rose’s astonishment, Barnaby threw himself over the wall and disappeared.
“He has gone,” she whispered, a sense of betrayal unlike no other surged through her. Stunned, all she could do was cling to Chadwick’s arm as he dragged her slowly but surely toward the trees. Now that she was on her own Rose redoubled her efforts to break free. Chadwick wasn’t much bigger than she was, surely she would be able to break his hold. She kicked out at the wall in an attempt to unbalance her captor but met with little success. He stumbled a little beneath their combined weight, but didn’t fall over as she had hoped. When the trees loomed too close for comfort, she screamed. Writhing furiously she tugged at his hands and began to claw at the soft flesh of his arm.
“Get off me,” she bit out desperately. “Let go of me.”
“Stay still wench,” Chadwick growled. “I will damned well shoot you.”
“What with,” she spat. “You don’t have a gun.”
“I will cut you,” Chadwick snapped.
“If you were going to cut me, why are you bothering to take me with you now?” Rose demanded perilously. “You are a liar and a murderer. I will see you rot in Hell for this.”
“Shut up.”
“Go to Hell,” Rose snapped.
Latching onto the rage that flowed through her veins, Rose vented all the fear and worry that had plagued her since the moment she had watched him kill two men in cold blood. There was no earthly possibility that she was going to follow the killer’s orders and allow him to claim her as his next victim. While she had breath in her body, and Barnaby somewhere behind her, she had to fight.
