Frowning, Anthony beckoned her closer, and reluctantly, she sat down on the side of the bed. Leaning towards her, he parted her shirt, only now noticing the red weals in between her breasts. He touched the mark gently, tempted to reassure her that she didn’t need to stash money away any longer. Instead he murmured, ‘Why don’t you let me keep them for you?’
‘Wot about when I fancy a tuppin’?’ she teased.
‘I won’t lose them,’ he insisted. ‘See if the bandage will stretch. After a brief hesitation, George put the coins onto the bed and rolled out the long piece of cloth. ‘They’d be much better in some ‘idin’ place I reckon,’ she griped as she passed the bandage under his armpits.
Anthony couldn’t have articulated why he felt the need to take care of George’s precious coins, but somehow, in his mind, it symbolised his commitment to taking care ofher. He watched the top of her head as she carefully positioned the two coins onto his chest, securing them underneath the bandage. Then she sat back to regard her handiwork. ‘I don’t reckon they’ll stay put fer long,’ she fretted. ‘I think we…’ she stopped as she heard a sudden noise. Nelson stood up on the bed, his fur on end, and uttered a warning growl.
Anthony frowned and climbed out of the bed, putting his finger to his lips in a warning for her to remain quiet. Quickly pulling his shirt over his head, he went towards the window. There were no curtains, so he stood to one side to avoid being visible in the candlelight. George remained seated on the bed, holding onto Nelson. She stared at him wordlessly, her whole body poised for flight.
At first, Anthony could see nothing, but the longer he stood, the more he could make out of the shadowy drive. Finally, he saw slight movement just inside the treeline bordering the drive. He remained unmoving, staring out into the darkness, and after a few moments, four men materialised out of the trees.
He watched as they carefully made their way towards the house, and just before they disappeared from view, his heart thudded in sick fear as he saw one of them pull out what looked like a pistol.
Muttering an oath, he stepped carefully away from the window. Clearly, the men were making their way towards the back of the house.
‘Where are your britches,’ he hissed to George. She didn’t waste her voice in replying, but simply pointed downwards. With another expletive, Anthony strode towards his wardrobe and pulled out two pairs of breeches, tossing one of them over to the bed. ‘Put these on,’ he ordered George in a low voice. Without arguing, she quickly pulled them on, tucking the shirt in as best she could and tying the front in a makeshift knot.
Her face was ashen in the darkness, but she stood up bravely and waited for his next instructions. ‘I saw four men,’ he whispered. ‘I think at least one of them is carrying a pistol. I have my sword but no other weapon.’
‘Are they after me?’ George breathed, trying to control her fear.
Anthony shrugged. ‘The only thing we know for sure is that they’re not calling for tea and bloody cake.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I can’t risk taking them on. I’m a passable swordsman but certainly no match for a firearm. Our only hope is to escape before they discover where we are.’ He strode towards the door and threw the bolt, then wedged a chair underneath the door handle. Next, pulling the two sheets off the bed he swiftly knotted them together. ‘Listen by the door love,’ he murmured to George before hurrying back to the window. ‘Let me know if you hear someone coming up the stairs.’
Forcing the catch open, he leaned his shoulder against the frame and pushed. At first nothing happened, then with a whine that set their teeth on edge, he finally managed to force one section of the window open. When it was wide enough for a person to slip through, he glanced enquiringly back towards George who shook her head, then swiftly tied one end to the bed frame. Eying the knot critically, he could only hope the bed was sturdy enough to take their weight.
Then, picking up his sword, he motioned George to join him at the window. ‘Are they inside?’ he murmured. She nodded.
‘Downstairs, in the sitting room I think.’ Anthony bent his head and gave her a swift fierce kiss on the lips.
‘I’m going to let you down first. Then Nelson. Once both of you are safe on the ground, run for the stable.’ She shook her head and opened her mouth to argue, but he silenced her with a gentle finger. ‘Saddle Horatio if you can, I’ve shown you how. I promise I’ll be right behind you.’
George said nothing more as he tied the makeshift rope around her waist and lifted her onto the windowsill, holding her steady as she swivelled to face him. She pressed another quick, hard kiss against his lips then allowed him to lower her from the window. Thirty seconds later, she was standing on solid ground. Quickly untying the sheet, she watched, heart in her mouth as he reeled it in and repeated the whole procedure with Nelson. The dog whined softly as he was lowered towards her but made no protest as she caught him in her arms and untied the sheet.
She stood holding the shivering animal and watched as he dragged the sheet upwards and began tying it around his own waist. At that moment a loud crash indicated someone was trying to get in through the door. ‘Go,’ he hissed down to her. Swallowing a sob, she nodded and turned to run towards the stable, as the crashing becoming more urgent behind her.
Once in the stable, she put Nelson down and ran towards Horatio, lifting his saddle with fearful, fumbling hands. She had just managed to get it onto the stallion’s back, when a sudden shout stopped her in her tracks. Hurrying back towards the stable door, she saw Anthony with his back to the bedroom window. A sudden shot rang out, and she shoved her fist in her mouth to stop herself screaming as she watched him slide to the floor.
The sudden appearance of a stranger at the window, forced her to move. Sobbing freely now, she feverishly went back to saddling Horatio, who was stamping nervously, clearly affected by her distress. Finally, she got the saddle secured. With trembling hands, she picked up Nelson and climbed onto the wooden makeshift mounting block. Swinging her leg over the stallion’s back, she managed to seat herself on the saddle. Suddenly afraid she was going to be sick, she took the reins in one hand and urged Horatio towards the open door.
Once outside, she looked again towards the bedchamber window, but this time could see nothing. Moaning, ‘No, no, no,’ inside her head, she held Nelson against her chest with one hand and gripped the saddle tightly with the other before pressing her heels against the horse’s flanks as Anthony had taught her. The horse gathered himself to spring forward, but just before he took flight, a figure appeared through the front door, pointing a pistol directly at her.
Another shot, Horatio rearing up in panic, feeling herself slipping helplessly to the ground, a blinding pain, then blessedly nothing…
Chapter Twenty-One
For a few seconds, Anthony actually believed they would succeed in escaping, but as the bedchamber door began to give way, he realised there was no way he was going to be able to climb down the makeshift rope in time. Ordering George to go, he turned back into the room and unwound the sheet from his waist, placing both hands instead on his sword. The only thing he could do now was hold them off for as long as possible to give the love of his life enough time to escape.
The palms of his hands slick with sweat, Anthony stepped towards the shuddering door. As the chair finally gave way, a hand was pushed through the gap. Foolhardy mistake, Anthony thought with ferocious delight, lifting his sword in the air before bringing it down, severing the fingers with one blow. The hand was snatched back with an unearthly howl, and Anthony stepped backwards to give himself more room, just as the door finally crashed open.
With grim satisfaction, he briefly saw a man rolling around the hall in agony before his attention was taken up by a well-dressed, hawk-nosed man pointing a pistol directly at him.
‘Well, I suppose severing his fingers is one way to make the idiot keep them to himself,’ the man chuckled.
‘Who are you?’ Anthony bit out. ‘What do you want?’
The man tipped his head to one side and tutted. ‘You know what we want. We’ve come for George, that’s all. Really, it didn’t have to be this messy' He sighed before casting a contemptuous glance towards the rumpled bed. ‘But evidently you’ve already surmised she’s a girl and sampled the wares. That makes it … well, let’s say I’d rather that knowledge didn’t leave this room.’
He closed his eyes briefly before suddenly barking, ‘For pity’s sake, shut your bleating, Henry, you’re giving me a damned headache. Tell the others to go after the chit. She can’t have got far.’ The muffled sobbing faded as Atkins staggered to his feet and stumbled down the stairs.
