“The only future I want is one with you in it,”Hawker had declared.
Her knees weakened with recognition.I feel the same way.
The knock on the door dispelled her reverie. Feeling a giddy flutter beneath her breastbone, she schooled it sternly. While she might be falling for Hawker—or, rather, Grant Reid, if she could ever get used to calling him that—she wasn’t going to let him treat her like some useless doll. The sooner he accepted that, the better. Judging by how quickly he’d returned, he was an intelligent man who learned his lesson quickly.
She hurried to the door. A lifetime of experience made her pause, her hand resting on the knob.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Mr. Benson, ma’am.” The innkeeper’s voice filtered through the wood. “We’re short-handed today, so I’ve come to collect the breakfast dishes.”
Quelling her disappointment, Pearl unlocked the door.
She glimpsed two brutish faces an instant before a cloth was shoved in her face. Fumes entered her nose and throat, smothering her. She fought to keep her balance as the ground surged beneath her feet.
“You…you are going to regret this,” she said thickly.
The men in front of her split into wavy lines, their voices coming as if from afar.
“We’re not afraid of Grant Reid. He’s a weakling.”
It is not him you need to be afraid of.
Darkness dragged her under.
It took Hawker two hours to track them down.
Only two bleeding hours…but they were the longest of his life.
He blamed himself for taking too long in the stables. He’d needed time to calm down, to think clearly so he didn’t dig himself into a deeper hole with Pearl. He’d been brushing the horses when a panicked Mr. Benson had rushed in. In tears, the innkeeper had babbled about a pair of cutthroats taking Mrs. Benson hostage, threatening to kill her unless he lured Pearl from her room. The men had released Mrs. Benson, but they’d drugged Pearl and taken off with her in their carriage.
Fighting his panic, Hawker had told himself that Pearl was a fighter. Two men wouldn’t get the best of her. Racing frantically over the sleet-covered roads, he’d bargained with the Almighty.
Please, God, look out for ’er. Protect the woman I love. Give me the chance to see ’er again, and I’ll be ’onest with ’er. I’ll tell ’er about my damned family, the title…about everything that’s in my ’eart.
The downpour stopped just as he found the trail, following it to the carriage lying in a ditch by some woods. He dismounted, pistol drawn. The horses were tied to a tree; the carriage was empty. With grim satisfaction, he recognized the weapon that had made the slashes in the cushions. Crouching, he examined the muddy tracks.
Fresh. Less than an hour old.
He discovered a path into the woods. His weapon at the ready, he stalked through the dense foliage in search of his prey. He arrived at the clearing and saw two bloodied brutes, each trussed to a tree. Pearl was gliding gracefully in front of them like a maniacal ballerina, her skirt torn and splattered with mud. She had her trusty dagger in hand.
Seeing that she was unharmed, relief unbound Hawker’s chest. He breathed fully for the first time since he’d discovered her missing.
She shot him an annoyed look. “What took you so long?”
Christ, I love this little termagant.
Was it strange that he fell just a bit deeper in love when she spun her knife in the air, making her would-be kidnappers’ gazes widen with fear? Yet nothing about Hawker’s relationship with Pearl was normal. And he rather fancied it that way.
He coughed to hide his welling emotion. “Delayed by the rain.”
He wanted to fold her in his arms and never let her go. He couldn’t, however, ruin her show. As she twirled her blade again before neatly catching it by the hilt, one of the cutthroats whimpered. The other looked ready to piss himself. Judging by the stain on his pants, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“While I was waiting upon your arrival, I had a chat with these two gentlemen.”
At Pearl’s dulcet tones, icy premonition trickled through Hawker’s veins.
“Did you now?” he said warily.
