She thought of her sisters, of Michael. “No, I’m alone.” The sooner she thought of herself that way, the better. She must be brave in the face of her life’s circumstances. She also felt safe enough around him to be blunt.
“A sad thing to be by oneself in life,” he said, commiserating. “Well, climb in the back and I’ll take you as far as I can.”
“Thank you, thank you,” she gushed, moving to the rear of the cart to hop aboard before he changed his mind.
“I’m Simon,” he called to her.
Simon, such a lovely name. No one who was dangerous could ever be called Simon.
“You are?” he prodded.
She hesitated. She wished she’d not given Kit her true name. She would not make that mistake twice. “Dara,” she said, tickled to think how annoyed her sister would be to know she’d used her name.
It also reminded her that her family may have found her note by now.
She wondered what Tweedie and her sisters thought. Were they angry? Worried? Might there be a hint of understanding?
Did she truly care what they thought? They needed to understand that she had pride.They always trampled on her feelings, on her wants and desires. They expected her to fall in line. Well, now they knew she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
The moment she settled in the freshly mowed hay, her feet seemed to thank her for the relief. The scent of summer surrounded her and she let herself relax. She was safe.
Simon called “Haw” to his team, and they were traveling.
Elise untied the ribbons of her cloak and lay back on the hay. The sky above was a deep blue with a few lazy clouds.
A yawn caught her. She wanted to stay awake except the movement of the wagon and the afternoon warmth conspired against her. It had been a difficult night. She was still traumatized by the coach accident and the bodies—
She tried not to think about them. Instead, she closed her eyes, giving them a momentary rest, and just like that, she fell asleep, but for what only seemed a second.
Did she dream? She could not remember.
Instead, she abruptly came awake and lay there a moment, uncertain as to where she was. This was not her bed—not in Wiltham and not in London. She moved and felt the shifting beneath her. She was riding in the hay wagon. Yes, that was it. Simon was taking her toward the posting inn.
Elise sat up, expecting to see the road.
They were not on the road. Instead, they werecoming to a halt in front of an aged stone cottage surrounded by tall grasses and broken pots and furniture. Some puny chickens pecked around the front door. There was a stone lean-to close to the house and an overgrown garden off to the side. Black smoke drifted from the chimney, and the air smelled of manure.
She twisted her body toward the front of the cart. “Simon?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he called, “Tommy, come out here. See what I have for you.”
Elise didn’t understand.
“What is it, Pa?” a high-pitched voice called out.
“Go check the back of the wagon,” Simon said.
Elise wasn’t certain what was happening, but her every instinct warned her torun. She climbed out of the wagon, her cloak still on the hay where she’d slept. She started to reach for it, but then Simon was right there in front of her. She hadn’t heard him move.
She gave a sharp gasp of surprise.
Simon grinned. This time the expression was not grandfatherly. “You can’t leave, lass. Not yet.”
“Why, she is lovely,” the high-pitched voice said from behind her.
Elise reeled, and met Tommy. He was no child or woman but a giant of a man with gray at his temples. He had long arms and appeared strong in spite of a belly that hung down over his breeches. His nose had obviously been broken several times. He reached for her hair witha hand that seemed to be the size of a serving platter.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned, stepping back.
