She rushed to help him.
Martin sat and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The back of his head ached fiercely, but the pain was bearable. He caught and gripped one of Sophy’s small hands and held it while he checked that his wits and senses were functional.
It seemed they were. Through the thick planks of the door came sounds he interpreted as two men settling to play a card game immediately outside the hut.
Reassured, he squeezed Sophy’s hand, then released it, pointed to the document lying on the table, and gestured for her to bring it to him.
She seized it and handed it over.
He scanned the first page, then quickly flipped through the subsequent pages. Then he grunted, folded the document, and shoved it into his coat pocket.
Slowly, allowing Sophy to steady him, he got to his feet, checking for any lingering weakness. He was relieved to find none of any consequence. Then he looped an arm around Sophy, drew her close, bent his head, and with his lips near her ear, whispered, “Now we search—in complete silence—for a way out.”
* * *
Her heart in her throat, Sophy watched as Martin hoisted himself up and out of the hole they’d created in the rear corner of the hut’s roof.
The old roof tiles had been fixed with nails that had rusted long ago, but lifting each tile free without making any noise had been a painstaking effort. They’d been alert and on edge throughout the exercise, knowing that the thugs could open the door at any point and there was nothing they could do to protect against that.
The hut had been built backing onto a rise, and luckily, there was a section of the roof at the rear where the battens were sufficiently far apart for Martin to angle his shoulders through, allowing him to climb out without creating any appreciable sound.
As Martin’s shoes disappeared through the hole, Sophy realized she was holding her breath. She rectified the omission, then crept to the door and pressed her ear to the solid planks.
By listening at the door and the shuttered windows, they’d established that the thugs who’d brought them to the hut were sitting—they assumed on upturned logs—directly in front of the door and that the pair were deeply engrossed in a game of cards.
Sophy glanced back and up at the gaping hole, and uncertainty welled. When she’d asked how Martin expected to subdue not one but two thugs, he’d just smiled in piratical fashion and whispered that he had several tricks up his sleeves.
That had hardly been reassuring, yet he’d seemed utterly confident, and as she hadn’t had any alternate strategy to suggest, she’d had to let him go.
After planting a desperate kiss on his lips and insisting he take care.
The truly sweet smile he’d left her with had wrapped about her heart.
Now, of course, she felt frustrated and helpless and worried.
The faintestcreakfrom directly above her head was the only warning she had that he was there.
She looked up, a prayer on her lips, then a heavythumpsounded outside, followed by an inarticulate cry that was immediately cut off.
Several dull thuds ensued, then silence fell.
Sophy gripped her hands tightly. What was happening? Who had cried out? Had it been—
The scraping as the bar across the door was lifted cut off her frantic thoughts, then the door swung outward, and Martin stood there, a triumphant smile on his lips.
Her breath left her in awhoosh, and when he beckoned her out, she flew into his arms.
He laughed and caught her and, for a fleeting instant, hugged her to him, but as he set her back on her feet, she sensed the hardness in his body and the urgency with which he looked around.
She looked, too, and saw both thugs—Wiry and his heavyset mate—sprawled, inanimate, on the rough ground.
She turned to Martin, who was resettling his coat. He appeared unruffled and calm and still ridiculously elegant. “How?” She waved at the unconscious pair. “There were two of them and one of you.”
His swift smile was faintly feral and distinctly predatory. “Not just a handsome face.”
She huffed and shook her head, then followed his lead in surveying their surroundings.
Martin cudgeled his brains, then glanced at Sophy. “I vaguely remember being jostled in the rear of a cart.” He reached a hand to the back of his head and gingerly felt the lump there. It was painfully tender, but the ache in his head had lessened now that he was upright and in the open air.
