On her own?
Swallowing, she climbed out of bed and hurried to the window. How long was it before dawn? She felt as though she’d been tossing and turning for hours, but the full moon told her it was likely a couple of hours yet to sunrise. She sat down on the edge of the bed. The sensible part of her knew her idea was completely totty-headed. Mercedes did not have the recklessness of the rest of the Shackleford family – which wasn’t entirely surprising since they weren’t actually her blood relatives. Indeed, her insistence on visiting Jennifer was the first time she and her father had really had an altercation.
That dispute, however, had served to prove that she wasn’t completely immune to the general wildness exhibited by her adopted family, and was perfectly capable of digging her heels in when the mood took her - though, it had to be said her father hadn’t seemed quite so thrilled by the abrupt appearance of such a Shackleford trait…
Mercy nibbled anxiously at her fingernails. She could leave a note for her step-grandparents explaining her reasoning. Granted, as soon as her father read it, he might well throw his father-in-law out on his ear, but better that than attending the clergyman’s funeral.
She forced down another surge of fear. Could Mr. Harding be trusted? What if she was jumping from the frying pan into the fire? Then she thought of Flossy’s reaction to him. She had never known the little dog to be wrong in her assessment of people. Never.
And Flossy had trusted him.
Without giving herself further to time to dither, Mercy hurriedly took off her nightgown and put on her warmest day dress. Fortunately, she’d taken her sensible boots to Scotland inanticipation of getting plenty of exercise. Then she made up a small bag of essentials, reasoning that either Mr. Harding or his horse would be able to carry it. It was unlikely she’d have to remain in hiding for long – simply long enough for the Reverend to get to Cottesmore. She had no doubt her father would tear the countryside apart to find her.
Finally, after writing a quick note to her grandfather, she picked up her cloak, and tiptoed to the door, only to pause before she turned the knob.
Was Mr. Harding married? He hadn’t mentioned a wife, and somehow, she couldn’t imagine him leg shackled – he appeared too … solitary. And then there was the scar.
So, what about a chaperone? Mercy frowned, hesitating on the threshold. Did he have servants? Then she took herself to task. What the deuce was she doing, worrying about proprieties when people’s lives were in danger? Only her closest family and Mr. Harding himself would ever know that she stayed there, and it wouldn’t be for long – perhaps two days at the most. She pursed her lips and pulled open the door.
Seconds later she was creeping down the stairs and along the passageway in the direction of the stables.
Chapter Five
Settling himself back on his makeshift bed in the stable, Nate expected to feel relief that the young woman and her companions had rejected his offer of succour. He’d done his duty and as a result, their chances of foiling the kidnap attempt on the morrow were much improved.
Unfortunately, in his head, he kept seeing a pair of soft brown eyes, olive skin and coal black hair. What did the Reverend call her? Mercy, that was it. A strange name. Mayhap it was short for something. He thought for a second. She had a very Spanish look about her so it could be her name was Mercedes. It was a fairly common name in Spain, and one he’d come across many times during his time with Wellington.
But then, if she was Spanish, how did she have an English grandmother? No, her accent was definitely English – and cultured. She was gently bred; of that he was certain. Not only did she sound it, but her dress was clearly of good quality and why else would someone wish to kidnap and wed her against her will?
And then there was the clergyman – was he any relation? Why had she been in Scotland? How the devil had she become thetarget of a bloody kidnapper? The questions went round and round in his head, thwarting any attempt to sleep.
He had no doubt she’d been the woman in the window. The one who’d intrigued him even then. Could he truly just leave her to her fate?
He swore under his breath, pillowing his head in his arms. Duchess whickered softly while Ruby snuggled closer to him. The two animals were his only friends. There was literally no one else. How had he become so isolated? Almost as if in answer, his scar throbbed dully. Even after all these years, there were still times when the whole side of his face ached like the devil.
Groaning, he started to turn over, when suddenly he heard a noise. Ruby lifted her head, growling softly. Slowly, carefully, Nate sat up, feeling underneath the straw for his hidden pistol. As the stable door began to open, he rose quietly to his feet, stepping around Duchess to face the intruder. There would be no hiding this time.
Seconds later, the door was pushed fully open, and Nate’s breath huffed out in disbelief as a feminine head leaned hesitantly through. ‘Mr. Harding…?’ She stepped into the stable, squinting into the dim light cast by the lone lantern hanging high in the rafters for safety. ‘Mr. Harding, are you there?’ Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
What the devil was she doing here unaccompanied in the middle of the night? He moved forward into the light, his voice coming out harsher than he’d intended. ‘Are you alone?’
She visibly jumped and took an involuntary step backwards. ‘I… I…’ she stammered, before seemingly taking herself to task andstraightening her spine. ‘I have come to accept your offer of assistance,’ she declared, holding her chin up.
Clearly, there was no one with her. The foolish chit really had come alone.
‘Do your companions know you are here?’ Nate asked, making an effort to soften his voice.
‘I… I’ve left them a note.’ She took a step towards him and held out her hand in supplication. ‘I am the one this blackguard is looking for. They will be safe as long as I’m not with them.’
Silence ensued as Nate assimilated her words. He couldn’t argue with her logic. ‘Where are you travelling to?’
‘Cottesmore,’ she returned promptly. ‘It’s near to Ringwood in the New Forest.’
‘I know it,’ he answered, then frowned. ‘Is your father the Earl?’
Mercy simply nodded and Nate gave a low whistle. ‘That explains the kidnapping attempt.’ He shook his head. ‘And am I likely to survive a confrontation with your father once he learns we have spent time alone together?’
‘Don’t you have any servants?’ she asked in a small voice.
