Her terror increased tenfold when Ross’s hand went to rest on the holstered pistol at his hip. Her adrenaline spiked, readying her body for action, but the dagger tucked in her garter would be no match for his pistol
She had no doubt he would relish shooting her and Aila in broad daylight if he suspected she was a Jacobite spying on an English lieutenant general.
She would never forgive herself if any harm came to an innocent like Aila.
Phoebe’s head snapped towards approaching riders when distant clopping hooves sounded. When Phoebe made out the familiar figures coming towards them from the direction of the cattle market, her sigh of relief was audible.
Phoebe jumped down from their wagon and ran into the direct path of the two oncoming riders. She promised to chastise herself later for her reckless action as she called out for Slade and Peter.
They both reined in their horses mere feet away from trampling her and dismounted, eying her with surprise and confusion.
Phoebe ran towards Slade. In her peripheral vision she saw Peter, an amiable expression on his face, strolling towards Ross who had dismounted.
When Phoebe reached Slade, she took note of his blackened eye and swollen nose. Despite the emotions assailing her, guilt broke through to squeeze her chest.
“I am so sorry for what Egan did,” Phoebe said to Slade.
Slade’s features took on a bemused expression. “I cannot find fault with Egan championing his sister.”
Peter and Ross approached. Without conscious thought, Phoebe drew nearer to Slade away from Ross. Slade shot her a perplexed look before facing Peter and Faye Ross.
“Colonel, this is Lieutenant Faye Ross of the second division of Horse Grenadier Guards,” Peter said in an amiable tone, oblivious to any undercurrents of tension.
Slade’s nostrils flared and he scowled as he took in Faye Ross, then switched his gaze to Phoebe, then back to Faye Ross.
Peter cleared his throat rather loudly as if waiting for something. Slade appeared reluctant as he extended a stiff hand in greeting, but Ross’s face twisted into hardness as he snapped to attention and saluted instead of shaking hands. Ross’s proper display of a formal greeting for a lower-ranking lieutenant addressing a higher-ranking colonel seemed rather overdone.
From Slade’s expression, he seemed to think so as well. Nonetheless he rigidly returned the salute, his eyes sharpening on Ross. “At ease, Lieutenant. In actuality, I’ve sold my commission. I am a civilian now.”
Ross’s brows leveled and his lips curled in insolence. “You are a Scot?”
Slade’s scowl hardened. With the tightening of his jaws and the narrowing of his gaze he looked downright intimidating. Was his reaction due more to Ross’s derisive tone or the question itself? Phoebe swallowed hard when it occurred to her that Slade might have sensed something off between her and Ross.
Ross may have assumed a colonel of the British Army had to be English, until Slade spoke, betraying his Scottish brogue. And the truth was, nothing in Slade’s attire suggested he was Scottish. His form-fitting breeches, crisp white shirt, unbuttoned black great coat, and riding boots, would have looked typical for any well-to-do English gentleman in Birmingham.
Slade ignored the question as his unflinching gaze speared Ross. “How do you know Mistress Dunbar?”
Slade’s hard tone was edged with an unmistakable challenge. He was an arm’s length away from Ross and stood an ominous half a head taller. Phoebe couldn’t help but note how much leaner, darker and more dangerous Slade looked standing next to Ross, Slade’s facial injuries giving him a harsh visage.
Ross pulled himself up to full height. His answer came with reluctance and a hint of resentment. “The Dunbars are neighbors to the Rosses, my cousins.”
Slade scrutinized Ross for a brief moment before speaking again. “You’re from the Second Division? You’re in Owens’ group?”
Ross blinked. “Yes. I report to Colonel Wilfred Owens.”
The smile stretching across Slade’s lips was unequivocally predatorial. “Owens is a good friend of mine. I’ll be sure and mention our meeting, Lieutenant.”
Heat flashed across Ross’s cold eyes, but he gave a curt nod. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Colonel. But if you will excuse me, I must be getting along.”
Ross mounted his horse and rode off in the direction of Bayview Crest without a backward glance.
Phoebe let out a second audible breath of relief at seeing Ross’s back. Her body ached to fall apart, but she kept herself under fierce control.
Peter, who was standing next to them now and staring at Ross ride away, clicked his tongue. “What a strange man.”
Slade gave her a pointed look. “How do you know this man Ross?”
She swallowed back the sand that seemed to have gathered in her throat and made a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Like he said, we met years ago when he visited his cousins, who are neighbors of the Dunbars.”
