And yet she loved him.
She hadn’t wanted to love him. She’d fought it, fought the flutters of sensation that rose in her when she first saw him, when he first touched her. She really fought the growing feelings that took root when they’d talked and shared secrets, when he’d risked his life for her, when he’d finally given in and taken her in his arms.
Twenty-five paces.
He didn’t trust women. He’d been hurt, his heart and his pride badly damaged, and yet she’d known, somewhere deep down, that he could still love. She’d known, perhaps before he had, that he loved her. And she loved him. She’d never allowed herself to love before because she too hadn’t been able to trust. Now she was trusting him with her life and that of her father.
Twenty paces.
“What’s this then?” one of Pennywhistle’s men said, his voice carrying in the darkness.
Belle didn’t dare look at the men. She continued walking, keeping her face in shadow.
Eighteen paces, seventeen.
“We’ve been bamboozled. That ain’t the man we want.”
Belle’s foot hovered as she tried to decide whether it was better to continue or start running the other way. Now would be a very good time for Hew and Galloway to jump in.
Her foot lowered at fifteen paces—give or take—and she raised her face to stare at Pennywhistle’s men.
“It’s the pock-marked girl from the tea shop,” one of them said.
“Get her!” another cried.
Belle didn’t know why her feet wouldn’t move. Her mind was screaming, Go! Her body was tensed to flee, and yet she stood locked in place.
HEW SENSED WILL READYING himself to pounce. He imagined the man crouched beside him in the shrubs near the bridge was coiled as tightly as himself. He watched Belle cross the bridge and felt as though his heart was outside his body. He was too far away. He couldn’t protect her. He should never have allowed her to risk her life like this.
“That ain’t the man we want,” one of Pennywhistle’s men said.
“Now!” Will uncoiled and sprang forward.
Somehow Hew was right behind him, moving without thinking. Belle had halted on the bridge and looked like a startled deer. He couldn’t believe she had made it this close without the men suspecting earlier. He wished she hadn’t made it so close. She was practically within arms’ reach of the thugs. A glance at the other end of the bridge showed her father had paused and looked over his shoulder. Just what Hew needed—for her father to play the hero and put himself back in harm’s way. But there was no more time to think about Belle or her father because one of the thugs was turning to him now and Hew only had time to react.
He put out a fist, striking hard and fast. His hand met the nose of Pennywhistle’s man, and he heard the crunch and felt the sharp reverberation through his body. His injured side gave a small twinge of protest, but Hew’s blood was running hot now. He was numb to the pain.
Pennywhistle’s man punched back, and Hew ducked, feeling the spray of the blood from the man’s broken nose splatter on his cheek as he moved. To his side, he caught sight of Will engaged in hand-to-hand with another of the abductors.
But there had been three...
Hew’s gaze went immediately to the bridge where Belle was now staring at him, even as the last of Pennywhistle’s men approached her.
“Belle!” Hew screamed. “Run!”
She seemed to start awake at his words, noticed the approaching man, turned, and ran. Hew started to go after her, but the man with the broken nose jumped in his way. “Damn it,” Hew growled as he swung and missed. This time the other man’s punch landed in his breadbasket, leaving him momentarily breathless. He bent over and saw stars. The punch must have glanced off his wound. That was the only way to account for the fact that he was about to sink to his knees from a single gut punch.
His opponent, seeing weakness, grabbed his hair and jerked his head up. Hew stared into the other man’s bloody face then squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the blow.
Instead, the man released him. Hew fell forward and heard Will say, “I have this. Go after her.”
Before Hew could argue, Will was pulled away and into another skirmish. Hew turned back to the bridge and saw Belle running for the other side with Pennywhistle’s man right behind her. The pain in his side felt like an anchor he dragged behind him as he tried to reach her. He scrambled onto the bridge and watched helplessly as she stumbled to the other side and Pennywhistle’s man reached for her.
BELLE HAD TIED HER hair in a queue and tucked it securely in Hew’s coat. Somehow in her mad dash for the other side of the bridge, it had come out. She saw her father up ahead. He had turned at the end of the bridge and was yelling for her. She reached for him then was yanked back by the head. Her neck twisted in pain, and she fell backward and onto the bridge. She knew she was hurt, but she’d been slammed on her back so hard, her ears rung and she was unable to locate the pain. She simply lay there, looking up at the moonless sky and trying to catch her breath.
“Belle!” her father called.
She tried to raise her head, tried to tell him to run, but nothing came out of her mouth.
