“Pity. Hung, drawn and quartered would have been a more fitting end,” Strathairn said appearing from the trees.
“Where’s Snowdon?” Grant threw the question over his shoulder as he ran to where Mercy stood. White faced, she stumbled into his arms.
“I must be getting rusty. Damn fellow escaped into the woods,” Strathairn said, heading for the horses. “Too dark to find him now. He’ll be bumbling around in there all night. And it looks like rain. He won’t go far.”
Mercy shivered as she examined Grant’s torn sleeve.
“It’s a bare scratch, sweetheart.” Grant framed her face with gentle hands, and peered into her tear-washed eyes desperate for an answer. “Did they hurt you?”
She shook her head. “Is he really dead, Grant?”
“Yes. Won’t hurt anyone again.”
“Sir Ewan didn’t want him to hurt me.”
“But he wouldn’t have stopped Fury from doing so.”
She shuddered. “How did you find me?”
“Plenty of time for that. You need a fire and warm drink. We’ll ride to Haighton Park. It’s not far.”
He helped her onto his horse, his heart still beating fast, and mounted behind her. He still couldn’t dismiss the thought that he’d almost lost her. He put his arms around her and took up the reins, walking the horse up the lane. Mercy leaned back against him.
“If I’d lost you I don’t think I could have borne it,” Grant said his voice a low growl.
“Oh, Grant. I was so frightened. I used my mirror to cut Fury’s face.”
“You were remarkable, and very brave! How did they manage to capture you, sweetheart?”
As she explained, he listened without comment. “I should never have read your letter.” She caught her breath in a sob. “It was wrong of me. But I was consumed with jealousy.”
Grant tried to decipher her slightly garbled account. The letter? She’d been jealous?
“What letter, Mercy?”
“Black’s. I found it in your portmanteau.”
“Oh.” He felt a rush of guilt. She must have been desperate to take such action. And she’d kept it from him.
“I should have told you, but I feared it would distract you.” She swivelled in his arms to look at him anxiously. “Are you very angry?”
“Only with myself. I thought it would be wrong to tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy when I take up a cause for the Crown.” And he’d suspected something like this might happen. But he would never tell her that. “But of whom were you jealous? Not Lady Haighton, surely?”
“No. Lady Alethea.”
“But our relationship was over before I met you.”
“Was it?”
“You have reason to doubt it?”
“It was just that she led me to believe…”
“She spoke to you?” he asked between clenched teeth.
“Grant please don’t say anything to her. It doesn’t matter now.”
They had reached the mansion, and the night footman and one of the guards employed to watch the house, rushed over to them. Grant lifted Mercy to the ground.
