by Rebecca King
“You will have to kill me first and believe me, I won’t go down without a fight,” she snarled in outrage. In spite of her bravado, she felt sick when he pressed the knife deeper into her neck in retaliation. Her eyes widened. She knew she didn’t have a moment to think. Forcing out all thought of the wicked blade against her, she threw herself bodily sideways at the same time that she yanked on Chadwick’s arm, pulling the blade free of her neck. Holding on to his arm she punched Chadwick in the stomach as hard as she could and then aimed another punch at his crotch. His resultant grunt of surprise released his hold on her, and gave her the freedom she needed to be able to charge out of the trees.
“Barnaby,” she gasped when she saw him only a few feet away. “You didn’t leave.”
“Where is he?”
“In there,” Rose replied nodding to the woods behind her. “Don’t go in there. He has a knife.”
“I know, but I have a gun,” Barnaby growled. “Get to the horse.” He shoved her in the direction of the waiting animal and turned his attention to the killer in the woods.
Rose wanted to stay with him but couldn’t face the thought of having to go back in there. For once doing as she was told, Rose lifted her skirts and ran.
To his disgust, by the time Barnaby reached the spot he had last seen Chadwick, the murderer had gone.
“Damn it,” Barnaby whispered. He stood in the shadows and listened intently to the sound of Chadwick’s receding footsteps. Shaking his head, he wondered why Chadwick hadn’t stopped to fight and quickly went after Rose.
“Come on. Now!” He ordered once he caught up with her. He practically threw her onto the horse’s back and vaulted on behind her, holding her tight against him as he wheeled the horse around and kicked it into a canter.
“Hold on to me tightly. Whatever you do, don’t look down and don’t talk. Just sit tight,” Barnaby commanded.
“Where is he?” Rose gasped as she studied the woods over his shoulder.
“Heading in the opposite direction at the minute,” Barnaby bit out. “I think he has gone to fetch his men. We aren’t going to wait around to find out. Hang on.”
Rose gasped when the horse, as eager to leave the area as they were, lunged forward. The heavy thundering of its hooves against the ground matched the rhythmic tattoo of her heartbeat. Terrified beyond words, Rose buried her head in Barnaby’s neck and clung on for dear life. She didn’t know which was worse; being at the wrong end of Chadwick’s gun, or sitting on a horse Barnaby was in charge of. Either way, if one didn’t kill her the other one would.
“Where are we going?”
“Anywhere,” Barnaby growled.
He mentally plotted where he thought they were. If he was right, there was a shelter not too far away that would suit their purposes perfectly, but they would have to ride for the rest of the night to reach it. Still, it was safer than staying outside to get shot at. For the first time since he had wrestled Rose out of that ballroom, Barnaby began to believe that he could get her to safety after all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
How many miles they travelled over the next few hours Rose couldn’t be quite sure. While it was a relief not to see Chadwick again, half an hour after the incident in the woods it began to rain. Unfortunately, the occasional smatter of raindrops turned into a slow but steady drizzle that quickly turned into a deluge which soaked them both.
Rapidly tiring after such a long night the horse slowed its pace to a steady plod. Barnaby didn’t push it to go faster. If this horse was tired so was Chadwick’s. For now, they could relax a little.
“Are we going to stop soon?” Rose asked hopefully as she eyed a tiny village on the horizon.
“Yes, I think we all need to rest for a while,” Barnaby assured her.
Dawn had started to creep over the horizon and now cast everything in a grey haze. It was light enough to see the area. They were the only people outside for miles around.
Rose was beyond exhausted. She was cold, tired, and hungry, but none of that mattered in light of how closely Barnaby was holding her, and how safe and protected she truly felt at that moment. In spite of the obvious discomfort she felt from sitting sideways on a horse, she wouldn’t have changed where she was for the world. Still, it would be wonderful to get off the horse for a while.
“Alright?” he murmured.
“Yes,” she whispered, and she was – for now.
What little air there was between them positively crackled with sensual tension. At first, Rose tried to convince herself it was a figment of her wayward imagination but with each step the horse took she became increasingly aware of the way her body brushed against his, and the tingling sensations it created within her. A molten warmth settled somewhere deep in the pit of her belly. Where it came from and why it had to happen now was confusing though. She had never felt anything like it before. It was like an invisible cord had wrapped itself around them both, binding them together in a way that was impossible to break. Trying desperately to ignore her awareness of him, Rose focused on the village only to realise that they were leaving it behind.
“Where are we going?” she murmured, aware of the slight huskiness in her voice but unable to do anything about it.
“Up here. Look.” Barnaby nodded to a single storey building nestled beside a small stream. From the outside it barely looked habitable, but the doors and windows were intact, and it had a lean-to which was perfect for the horse.
“Whose is it?” she whispered. “Will the owner mind us using it?”
Barnaby snorted. He didn’t care if anybody did object to them staying there for a while. Remaining on the horse was impossible now given how badly it was raining. They had to stop before the horse slid and injured itself and the hut was the only suitable place to stop for miles around.
“I don’t suppose so,” Barnaby answered her smoothly.
He almost groaned when the horse tripped and Rose’s hip nudged his groin. When it had first happened many miles ago it had been a distraction that had stymied him. Now, it was an irritation that was impossible to ignore and he was now as eager to get off this horse for a while as Rose was.
“You go on inside, I will see to the horse,” Barnaby urged her when they finally stopped outside of the hut.
Lifting his hands he helped her down but, when it came to releasing her he couldn’t. Everything within him was screaming at him to let her go, make her go inside and put some distance between them but the sight of the raindrops shimmering on her lashes, and the delicate curves of her womanly form sensationally outlined by her sodden and now transparent clothing, was too much temptation for a man pushed to the very edge of his self-control.
Rose watched rivulets of water trickle slowly down his face. He was so close that she had to tip her head back to look up at him but, rather than be intimidated by his size she felt incredibly protected. His presence was powerful and a little overwhelming.
“Rose,” he murmured.
Rose sighed. She didn’t object when his head dipped and he kissed her. Instead she sighed and leaned closer.
This kiss was different to the others. It was a kiss of reassurance; a joyous confirmation that they had survived, together. It was an affirmation of life. Held firmly against his strength she was helpless to refuse him anything, and returned his embrace with equal fervour which grew with each moment that passed.
Barnaby didn’t know what had come over him. He had been this reckless in his life, with his bachelorhood or his reputation. Rose was there to be protected not seduced whenever possible. But, she had looked so darned beautiful standing there, soaking wet, her hair hanging in damp ringlets about her face, the darkness shrouding her oval face in secrets that were the most seductive he had ever seen on a woman. He had felt compelled to just taste her, and he had. Now that he had, he wished he hadn’t because it had just complicated matters further, and they were difficult enough already. It was hard to let go, and even more difficult to take several steps backward. When he did,
he looked into her eyes and read the hazy desire she couldn’t hide shining back at him. It nearly unmanned him but he knew they had to have a bit of time apart.
“Go inside,” he murmured gently when she stood mutely staring at him. He didn’t wait to see if she would, he walked to the horse and picked up the reins.
Rose was reluctant to do as she was told and remained where she was until he led the horse into the lean-to and disappeared from sight. When she realised she was alone, she reluctantly made her way inside.
From the depths of the lean-to, Barnaby watched her walk slowly toward the hut. He tried to keep his gaze off her delectable curves it was damned near impossible when the rain had displayed everything God had given her in such wondrous glory.
“May the Lord have mercy on my soul,” Barnaby growled as he cast a dark glare at the skies. It was like being tempted to within an inch of the very boundaries of his endurance. He was positive now that there was someone somewhere in Heaven having a good laugh at him. They had placed everything they knew he would struggle to resist right under his nose and were waiting to see what he was going to do about it he just knew it. If he dared to touch, to savour, to taste, then he would have to pay the price, and that would inevitably lead to matrimony. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t bring himself to even contemplate the notion of being wed to anybody, not least to someone as hard-headed as Rose could be sometimes.
“Damn it all to Hell,” Barnaby snarled. Slapping the make-shift reins over a roof joist, he stomped toward the entrance and looked out across the fields. Rather than leave the lean-to, he took a moment to allow his ardour to cool. If he went into the hut in the state he was in, Chadwick wouldn’t be the only threat to Rose’s peace of mind. “Good God in Heaven, what has she done to me?” he whispered. He knew that the Lord wouldn’t provide him with any answers. To his utter disgust, he rather suspected that the answer now lay within the four walls of the hut he had stupidly brought her to. Unless he was prepared to spend the next several hours sharing this tiny space with the horse, he had to face going inside at some point. Besides, he was cold. If he wanted to avoid a chill he needed to get warm for a while.
“Face it like a man,” he growled as he reluctantly let himself out of the stall and stomped toward the hut. “Or run like a coward.”
Rose studied the small square space. It was furnished with nothing more than a single bed, a small fireplace, a solitary dresser, and a rickety looking table accompanied by two mismatched chairs. It wasn’t a palace by any man’s standards but the roof didn’t leak, and there was dry wood beside the fireplace. Hurrying toward it, she quickly lit the fire and remained beside it to savour the warmth for several moments while she studied the room for any sign of provisions. She was still trying to force herself to leave the warmth of the fire when Barnaby slammed into the room.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” she demanded when she saw his dark scowl.
Barnaby slammed to a halt. The glare he levelled on her would have withered any lesser mortal. Rose merely stared back at him, completely oblivious to the scene of temptation she presented him. He wanted to tell her to put some clothes on, but she was fully dressed - although only just given how translucent her dress had become. Whipping his cloak off his shoulders he positively threw it toward her.
“Put that on, it will warm you up a bit faster,” he growled. With the fire roaring heartily, he turned his attention to searching the cupboard. It took far longer than was necessary given that he lingered with his back toward her for as long as he could. However, there came that moment when he had to turn around. “I will go and find us something to eat.”
“No. Stay,” Rose protested, tearing her gaze away from the rippling of the muscles in his back as he dug around inside the cupboard. “You can’t go back out there. It is pouring down with rain still. At least wait until it has stopped raining.”
But Barnaby was already shaking his head. “It is best I go now and get it over with. I am already wet.”
“But you have just bedded the horse down,” Rose argued. She hadn’t put the cloak on as he had suggested. Instead she draped it over the back of one of the chairs to dry before the fire.
“I won’t be long,” Barnaby growled, snatching it up and swinging it over his shoulders. Before she could protest, he slammed out of the hut.
Rose reached the window just in time to watch him stalk swiftly across the small field toward the village. If she didn’t know better, she would think that something had made him incredibly angry – or someone.
“Well, it can’t be me,” she whispered. “So what is wrong with you then?”
Aware that without asking him she wasn’t likely to get any answer, Rose turned away and went to put some more logs on the fire. Now that she was alone she decided to make full use of the heat. Throwing a cautious glance at the door, she hurried back to the window to make sure that he truly had gone and watched him vault over a wall half-way to the small group of houses in the distance. She suspected that he would be gone for a while and so quickly removed her sodden dress. With nothing protecting her modesty, she scoured the hut until she found an old, moth-eaten blanket. Wrapping it around her nudity, she began to wring out the ruined material of what had once been her best ball gown. Once it was as dry as she could get it she draped it over the chair which she positioned close to the fire. Stiff, sore, and more than a little tired, she huddled deeper into the voluminous folds of the blanket and lay down upon the narrow cot. Within seconds she was sound asleep.
Once in the village, Barnaby quickly purchased as much as he could carry. Stopping long enough to consume a small pie, he bundled the goods into his newly purchased pouch together with a dry change of clothing for both of them. With his arms laden, he slowly began to make his way back toward the hut. He hoped that by the time he returned she would have dried out and there would be less temptation on view. If not, then he was going to spend a long, cold rest period with a horse.
The sight that greeted him when he entered the hut altered the course of everything. Closing the door quietly behind him, Barnaby slid the bolt home before he closed the shutters. Determined to keep his eyes off her, he studied her still dripping dress with a sigh as he placed his bags on the table. Inevitably, his gaze was drawn to her. Before he knew it he had taken several steps toward the bed.
“Damn it,” he whispered, forcing himself to stop and focus on unpacking his purchases.
“You are back,” Rose murmured sleepily when she sensed she was no longer alone. It didn’t occur to her to be frightened. The residual effects of slumber rendered her mind fuddled, and she temporarily forgot his earlier anger as she moved to sit on the edge of the cot.
“I don’t know what happened. I was just going to rest for a while,” she murmured apologetically.
“We need to eat,” he muttered huskily as he slammed a pie onto the table.
Rose shoved her hair out of her eyes with one hand while the other protected her modesty by holding the edges of the blanket together.
“You are soaked,” she said needlessly. She eyed the steady pool of water dripping onto the floor at his feet in dismay.
“It’s raining outside still,” he snapped. For the first time in his life he felt gauche and awkward.
Rose’s stomach rumbled loudly when the delicious scent of pie filtered across the room. Curious to see what he had bought she stood and tried to walk to the table only to find her feet tangled up in the trailing ends of the blanket. Tugging them out of the way while protecting her modesty proved virtually impossible though, and after several futile attempts to free her feet from the rough confines of the coarse material, Rose gave up.
“Jesus,” Barnaby growled as he watched her struggle to contain her ample bosom which threatened to overspill the edge of the blanket. Stalking toward her he crouched down and untangled her feet before he returned to the table. “Secure that and come and get something to eat.”
Rose studied the rigid set of his shoulders an
d wondered what she had done to irk him so. He was angry about something but for the life of her she couldn’t understand what.
“Did you see anybody in the village?” she asked.
“I saw lots of people,” Barnaby snapped. “It is the middle of the morning.”
“I was just asking.”
The hurt in her voice made him look at her. He sighed, realising then just how completely unfair he was being to her. It wasn’t right that he should take his frustration out on her because she had no idea what temptation she put before him.
“I am sorry. I am just tired and hungry, that’s all,” he muttered as he slapped two battered tin plates onto the table and sat down. Helping himself to a selection of the foods on offer he began to eat and kept his gaze his gaze locked on his meal rather than her.
Everything was fine, for a few seconds at least - until Rose sat down. When he took one look at her hair tumbling wildly about her bare shoulders, and the pale flash of deliciously curved thigh protruding from the blanket, his body surged to life. He knew then that he was fighting an already lost battle.
Rose poked uninterestedly at the food before her. She was hungry but then wasn’t. Her appetite had vanished beneath the weight of the worry clouding her thoughts now that she sensed his bad temper. The last thing she wanted was to have to battle with him for the rest of the journey. It made her feel all alone in the world more than anything else. It wasn’t until then that she realised just how much she relied upon him, and it wasn’t just to keep them both alive and out of Chadwick’s clutches. Having Barnaby to talk to made her feel considerably calmer and about the dangers they faced. His presence in her life gave her the strength to face an entirely new future. He was a companion; a friend; a confidant.
