Through the waving smoke he peered. Cuthbert was nowhere. Must have been satisfied his mission was accomplished, and he decided to leave before the townspeople saw the fire.
“This will work,” he affirmed.
She closed her eyes…and swayed.
“Do you have a fear of heights?”
“A little. Can’t think about that now.”
Anthony slid the block out. Energy shot through him. She called to the dog. Casey leapt in her arms. Anthony sat on the roped chair, held Rachel, and she held the dog.
One. Two. Three.
The next seconds blurred, whooshing through the air, Rachel’s hair flying in his face, and the rope bowing with their weight. Would the arrow hold? Anthony stretched his long legs forward…slammed into the tree, grabbed a branch and steadied their rocking.
“How good are you at climbing down trees?” Anthony asked.
Rachel scrambled onto the branch, the dog gave a little bark and Anthony joined them.
“I’m a Colonial. But don’t tell me Colonials are born in trees. Difficult with the dog and this dress.” She handed the dog to Anthony and bent over to tear her skirt off.
“Now there’s a thought.”
“Don’t get any ideas.” She tied her skirts into a pouch. Anthony put the dog in, slung the sack over his shoulder. The dog whined. “Don’t look down. One branch at a time.”
The next seconds improved, descending the tree, testing each limb to see if it held his weight and making sure Rachel followed the correct footholds. On the ground, he released the dog, and then reached up and caught Rachel in his arms. “I’m never letting you go.”
“Well, Well.”
Anthony put her down and spun around. Cuthbert and his four henchmen, their faces like grinning demons in the firelight. A gun leveled at Anthony’s chest. A callous, predatory enjoyment fired inside Anthony. “You’re going to require more than that.”
Cuthbert sneered. “I have the gun.”
A vein pulsed in Anthony’s forehead. “You better make it count because none of you are going to last.”
The thugs tittered.
“Wrist,” Rachel commanded. The dog leaped, grinding her teeth into Cuthbert’s arm, and dangled from his sleeve. The gun went off, landed somewhere in the leaves. Twigs and splinters showered on their heads. Anthony sprang into action. The thugs fell on him and he roared out an awful challenge. He punched one in the nose, making a popping sound, and dousing him in a shower of blood. With lightening quick ease, Anthony broke free and swung his elbow into a man’s windpipe. The thug emitted a shuddering breath and pitched backward. They backed off. Not surprising. These were not seasoned fighters. Two down, three to go. He’d been looking for a fight. His eyes fixed on his prey.
One huge thug grew brave, plowed at Anthony like the prow of a ship, slamming him in the jaw. Stunned, Anthony grasped one of the huge wrists and broke it in two. He stopped and hit the next man with a colossal right. All the way up from his planted feet, as hard as he could and felt his fist drive right through it and beyond it. His falling body weight whipped his head out from under his moving hand. The momentum allowed him to carry onward, shoulder first into the thug who got hit in the windpipe.
He faced Cuthbert. “Come on, you coward,” Anthony taunted, springing sinuously to one side and then to another. He wanted to finish this.
Cuthbert’s lips pulled back from his teeth. He charged Anthony, aiming a savage blow at the head, which if it had landed, would have crushed Anthony’s skull. He danced to the side, dropping beneath it, delivered with a clenched fist, a mighty blow himself into the pit of the rogue’s stomach. He kicked Cuthbert between the legs, and the man’s head jerked downward at the same time Anthony’s elbow jerked upward, doubling the power of the blow. Cuthbert face-flopped into the moldy leaves.
Anthony wiped his bloody knuckles on Cuthbert’s dirty shirt. “I told you, you needed more men.”
Rachel flew into his arms. Shouts echoed from the woods behind them. “My father’s coming with his guards. You didn’t think I’d come here alone, did you?” He scratched his head. “Why they have come so late is a mystery.”
She spread her petticoats to show her indecent attire. “Oh, dear. Your father is coming, and I’m clad like this?”
Anthony laughed, took his coat off and draped it over her shoulders. “You endured a burning house, flying fifty feet above the ground, and you’re worried about your state of dress?”
The duke arrived with several armed groomsmen, guards, Captain Johnson and curious townspeople.
Anthony stroked his jaw where he’d been hit and looked at his father. “What took you so long?”
“Went to the wrong sea captain’s house. You didn’t specify.” At the Duke’s nod, they tied up the villains, yanked a groggy Cuthbert up on his feet. “You will be facing a hanging,” said the Duke.
