He stepped backward once more, dragging her with him, and Brielle prepared to make her move.
Help me, Lord.
This time, Gerald didn’t pull the knife away to use that hand. Instead, he twisted Brielle down so she was suspended an arm’s length above the floor. Then he used the fingers on the hand wrapping her middle to reach for the item he needed.
Although his beefy arm still pressed against her belly, the looser hold of his hand let her pull her right arm free.
With the new freedom, she grabbed his wrist holding the knife at her throat and pulled her right foot up to kick as close to his groin as she could manage.
With Gerald bent down, her sudden actions threw him off balance, knocking him backward.
His arm tightened around her chest, but this time she had her right hand free and a firm grip on his wrist holding the knife.
He landed on his back, and the strength in his right arm tried to force the knife to her neck again. But she had desperation on her side, and the burning reminder of the damage that blade had already done.
She braced hard against his wrist, barely keeping the blade away from her. She wouldn’t be able to hold off his greater strength much longer.
Yet, what he possessed in muscle, she could match in agility. With a hard thrust, she twisted her body within his hold so her front was facing him. Then she tucked her head low to duck out of the path of the knife.
As she twisted, she lost her hold on his knife arm, and her left arm was pinned between their two bodies. But she still had her right arm free and she was powered by a growing hatred for this man as she stared into his malicious gaze.
Suddenly, a body appeared from her left. A knife blade flashed, and the evil on Gerald’s face twisted into pain as a hand plunged the blade into the man’s shoulder. His arm around her loosened, and she scrambled backward, crawling on her hands and knees until she was free of him.
Evan stood over the fiend, and Leonard charged in the moment she cleared out.
“Philip, get my gun.” With one hand holding Gerald down, Evan reached out to accept the weapon.
Philip scrambled for the musket, then handed it to Evan.
“Philip, you take my spot while I step back and aim thisbullet at him. Then you and Leonard flip him over and tie him up.” Evan’s breaths were coming hard, and his hands shook a little as he exchanged places with Philip and pointed the gun at their prisoner.
For her part, Brielle was shaking, too. She needed to stand up and be helpful but had to grab the door handle to pull herself up to standing. Good thing the men were too occupied to see her unsteady legs.
She inhaled a deep, settling breath.Thank you, Lord. That could’ve gone so many other ways. Though she’d not let her thoughts dwell on the likely outcome, she’d known that could have been her final moments of life.
Life on this earth anyway. As much as she looked forward to eternity around God’s throne, there was more here she wanted to do.
Her gaze honed on Evan. Much more.
As if he felt her focus, Evan looked back at her, his expression as raw as she’d ever seen it. “Are you hurt? Your throat’s bleeding. Press something to it.”
She shook her head, the skin of her neck pulling tight with the motion. But she wasn’t gushing blood. And nothing seemed broken. “It’s not bad.” She forced her attention down to Gerald. He had to be their focus until he was fully secured in the storage room. Then, once she was in the safety of her home, she could let her quivering knees give out.
Her gaze slid back to Evan, who’d also returned his focus to Gerald. How good it would feel to be wrapped in his strong arms when she finally succumbed to this weakness. She should abhor a thought like that. Shouldn’t want anyone to see her so fragile. Especially not this man she loved, the man she wanted so desperately to think well of her.
But even if he only loved her half as much as she did him, she needed to let him see every part of her. Even the vulnerable parts. Somehow, she didn’t think Evan would think less of her for the weakness.
Evan’s arms ached as he followed Gerald and the guards down the long corridor. Philip gripped the man’s arm, while Leonard and Brielle walked a few steps behind them, weapons poised in case the man made a sudden move.
His own arms didn’t strain from the weight of the gun in his hands, but from the intense desire to wrap them around Brielle. To touch her and feel for himself she was unharmed.
The image of her in that fiend’s hold, the knife blade pressed to her neck, blood oozing down her smooth skin ... he couldn’t clear it from his mind.
He’d known the moment the look in her eyes changed that she was planning to resist. She’d found a course of action she thought would free her.
Everything inside him had wanted to scream for her to stop. Not do anything that might force the man’s hand—literally—and cause him to slice the blade deeper into her throat.
All Evan had been able to do was pray. Just like the last time Brielle’s life had been in danger from the blizzard. In both situations, God had given him the sacred task to pray for the woman he loved.
