Ara screamed, snagging fistfuls of her skirts and running in the opposite direction. Clay had men stationed everywhere. She could only guess that the blood on the stranger’s clothing was from one of them.
He had murdered one of her guards. And now, he would murder her.
No.
She would fight. She would run.
As fast as her feet and her legs would take her, she raced. Into the maze of carefully manicured hedges she went, knowing the path by heart. Heavy footfalls followed, echoing in her ears. All she could hear was the pant of her own breaths, the thudding of her heart, and the sound of the stranger following her. Gaining on her. Closer and closer he came. Her heart hammered. Her breaths became increasingly shallow until she was gasping. She was losing speed and he was gaining.
The garden was not large. She reached the center of the maze. He grew closer. Closer. Closer. But she was determined. Desperate. The footfalls sounded heavier now. She had a son to live for. She had everything to fight for. She pushed herself, ran faster, her heavy skirts and corset twin impediments to her progress.
Until her foot caught in her hem. She lost her balance. Tripped. Fell headlong into the gravel path. A fresh wave of fear hit her as she collided with the earth. Her hands caught most of her fall, keeping her head from slamming into the ground. But the footsteps were upon her now, and she was lying prone, helpless.
A lamb for the slaughter.
This was it for her. She had reached the end. Edward’s face flashed through her mind.No, she had to be brave for her son. She had to escape. She would live for him. Shehadto live for him. She scrambled to her hands and knees, desperation coursing through her.
“Ara.”
Huge, boot-shod feet appeared before her.
This was not the voice she had expected to hear. This voice was familiar. Dark and low. Reassuring in a way it ought not to be after all these years and everything that had come between them.
Hands gripped her, hauling her upward.
And there he was. Clay. She had never been more relieved to see another person in all her life. She threw herself into his arms. “Th-there is a man. He’s f-following me.”
The words would not emerge without the trembles wracking her body. Terror still clawed at her. Where was the man? He had been so close on her heels. Clay’s touch swept over her back, up and down in soothing motions.
“He will not follow you again,” he promised, a lethal note underlying his voice.
Good heavens, had Clay killed the man? She was afraid to ask. “P-please. Edward…is he safe?”
“Yes, the lad is safe.” He continued to stroke her back, holding her tightly. Almost as if she were precious to him, though she knew the truth was he loathed her. “Did that bastard touch you?”
She shook her head, inhaling deeply of his reassuring scent. Musk and man and leather. And Clay. “I ran from him. H-he was getting closer. He was c-covered in blood, Clay. H-he had a blade.”
“Aye. He almost killed one of my men. I’ll be requesting more guards forthwith.” His voice rumbled in his broad chest.
Her body went cold, and she could not seem to stop trembling, her teeth chattering. The threats against her, while concerning, had been faceless and intangible. Now, she had seen a man who intended to murder her, just moments after he had attempted to kill another.
“Ara, you are safe now. You have my word.” His tone was grim. He stroked her hair with such tenderness her heart ached.
She did not trust his word. He had given it to her before, and his promise had been a lie. But the truth was, she had no one else. He was all she could rely upon, the only hope she could cling to.
And so, she clung. She clung as if he were the side of a boat and she was in danger of being swept away into the sea. She clung to his strong neck and his massive chest. Clung as he bent and scooped her effortlessly into his arms. Not a hint of a protest left her lips as he stalked back along the path she had just run down.
Though she pressed her face against him, she saw the fallen figure of a man in the path. More blood.
“Avert your gaze,” Clay ordered curtly.
But it was too late. She recognized the still form, the bowler hat lying next to his lifeless body. Clay had killed for her. Silently, savagely, and without hesitation. He had saved her life, but to do so, he had needed to take another.
A shocked gasp tore from her, and she forced her eyes away from the dead man.
“It was necessary, Ara.” Clay’s deep voice vibrated against her cheek. “If he had reached you, I would not have been able to save you.”
She swallowed, knowing it was the truth. “Thank you, Clay.”
