She heard the scream as she walked between the two houses to the one at the rear where the Brunts lived. Dorrie was running by the time she was on the front step. She banged a fist hard on the door.
“Beth!”
Another scream had her looking around for a weapon. Wood was stacked against the wall. Grabbing a piece, she opened the door and entered.
Murray Brunt had his hands around Beth’s throat.
“I am a laughingstock! You are a barren bitch!”
“Let her go!” Dorrie yelled.
His surprise in seeing her eased his grip.
“Beth, come here!”
The woman ran, and Dorrie pulled her behind her.
“You are a cowardly man, Murray Brunt, to beat a woman who is not even half your size.”
His eyes bugged out in his head, and she could see he was still pale, even though the fever had passed.
“Get out of my house!”
“Gladly, but I’m taking your wife with me!”
“You and yours have made her barren. You’re a witch who should be burned!”
“We don’t do that here in England anymore, haven’t you heard?” Dorrie said in a remarkably calm voice, considering her heart was thudding hard inside her chest.
“I will kill you and then your sister. At least that is two Sinclairs less to do evil in this town!”
“My family are worth ten of you!”
He roared, charging at her. Dorrie swung, but she connected with his arm, which did not stop him. He had her in his hands seconds later.
Beth’s scream was piercing, and Dorrie hoped someone heard it or there was every chance Murray Brunt may succeed in ridding the village of a Sinclair.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Ash had called himself every kind of fool for what he’d done with Dorset Sinclair. The problem was, he couldn’t regret it. For those moments he’d spent in her arms, he’d known peace. Known what it was to be held by a woman he actually cared for.
He did care for her but would not allow himself to examine just how much. There was a connection between them, he couldn’t deny that. She’d saved him. Risked her life for his; and then there was her face and lovely body. That body. He’d dreamed about her long legs around his waist and the feel of her arms holding him as if she’d never let him go.
The hell of it was, he admired her strength too. She never wilted or shirked what needed to be done. She had a will of iron. Even when she’d been devastated with the loss of her friend, she’d carried on caring for others.
There was also the fact that he knew what she tasted like. The touch of her soft lips pressed to his tormented him every time she was near. He’d forever be plagued by the memory of being deep inside her. As close as two people could be.
You are worthy of living. Worthy of love and a future.She’d said those words to him, and he could think of nothing else. She believed he was worthy of living. He’d denied it, but a small bud of hope that had started to blossom inside him wondered. He’d tried to stomp it down and failed.
“Come, one more has passed and must be buried,” Baron said.
“Thank you for what you are doing,” Ash said. “This is not our fight, and yet here we both still are.”
His friend, like Ash, had worked hard for the people of Crunston Cliff.
“We are doing this for your family, Ash.”
Baron wore his cap pulled to his brows and a thick scarf. He was gentle with those he cared for; some did not want him near them, and Essie dealt with them. She also told them exactly what Baron was and that the color of his skin made him no different from her; in fact it made him better, as he’d come from far away and had no allegiance to the village. She didn’t raise her voice, but there was strength there.
