God, please.The prayer raced. Why was he chasing her?
Faster, faster, but the footfalls were gaining. One or two yards and she’d reach the path. Then the cottage. Then Captain—and he’d know what to do.
“Stop right there.” The voice chilled the air, but she didn’t listen.
A few more steps.
Almost there.
She threw herself into the old wooden door, Merrylad pushing at her legs, and swung it open. Just as quickly, she forced it shut and locked. “Captain?”
She pivoted, took in the entire room in one swift glance.
Empty.
“Captain?” Panic crawled up her throat, too big to swallow, like a boulder she couldn’t breathe past. “Captain!”
The door jarred, followed by a loud kick.
Help me, God.She scooped Merrylad into her arms, flung herself into a corner, and sank to her knees like the frightened maiden in all her books.Help me, help me, help me.
Because in the nineteen years she could remember, there’d never been anyone in these woods. No one but her and Captain. Safe and alone. Protected.
Until now.
Felton Northwood winced as his shoulder slammed into the unmovable door. This wasn’t going to work. Too sturdy to break down.
And there wasn’t time.
The old man was gone for now, but what if he changed his mind? After all, there’d been a bottle in his hand when he nodded his agreement. When he’d stumbled out the cottage door, less than an hour ago, he’d been wiping tears with the back of his sleeve. “Do it quickly.”
That’s all he’d said.
Felton intended to, if only there was a way inside this infernal cottage. He gave the door one last shove, groaned, then hurried to the window instead.
Near darkness stared back at him. Evening was falling fast. In a few more minutes, these woods would be black—and if the gathering clouds from earlier were any indication, there would be no moon.
Maybe it was better this way. Then he wouldn’t have to see her face again.
Not yet.
With his hands on either side of the window, he hiked up his leg and pressed his Hessian boot to the glass. He shoved it through, glass splintering, and waited to make certain a musket rifle wasn’t about to fire down on him.
He didn’t imagine the young chit he’d found at the stream could handle a gun.
But then again, he never imagined she could run like the wind either.
He kicked out the last shards of glass and climbed through. The room made his skin raise in bumps. This was insanity. He had no right here. Not when the place was still scented with an old man’s cheroot and a young girl’s dying flowers…and the faint, lingering aroma of the last meal they’d shared together.
The last meal they’d ever share.
But he had no time for that now. He’d come, and he was doing what was right. What was right for him. For his family. For their name—or at least what was left of it. But was it right for the girl hovering in the corner?
With every step he approached, her breathing grew faster. The dog growled. Their outlines became more distinct in the shadows, until he could make out her eyes for the second time today.
“I am not here to hurt you, so there is no need to be afraid.”
She didn’t answer.
