*
After ordering hisdriver and groom to assist with readying the ship, Ackerly turned back to her. “Come, my love.” He smiled. “Our future awaits.”
The man’s delusional audacity infuriated her. He seriously thought he could just kidnap her, marry her, and take her off to India to live happily ever after? This wasn’t a blasted fairytale. This was her life. And she was damned tired of everyone else thinking they had the right to decide how she lived it.
It took every bit of willpower and conscious control Eleanor possessed not to wrench her hand free of his and send it flying toward his face. Instead, she quickly lowered her gaze so he would not see the fury burning there. Her instincts screamed for her to stall. Stall and delay until she could determine some avenue of escape. Once she was on that ship, there would be no further recourse.
“A moment, please,” she murmured gently.
As slowly as she could without drawing suspicion, she withdrew her hand from his and made a show of smoothing her rumpled skirts and patting her hair. With calm intent, she brushed her fingertips along the triple-strand necklace, taking a moment to feel the shape of the honeybee. She noted how Ackerly’s gaze followed each minutedrift of her fingers.
He’d done that frequently, she realized…gotten distracted by the glint of gold and jewels. Perhaps she could use that against him.
She wished she could look around, study her surroundings, get a better idea of who was near and what—if anything—might assist her plight. Instead, she kept her focus on him.
“I wish I were more prepared for this,” she said simply, adding a helpless little wave of her hand. “I have nothing to take with me into this new life.”
“I will provide anything you need. You are under my care now.”
Eleanor bit her tongue.Under your control, you mean.
Suddenly, a shrill whistle cut through the air, ending with a dull thunk as an arrow embedded itself in the carriage only a few feet from where they stood.
Ackerly jolted and looked in the direction from which the arrow had come as Eleanor took a swift step out of his reach. She had no idea what was happening, but she was going to take full advantage of the distraction.
Another arrow sliced past Ackerly, tearing through the sleeve of his coat before sinking into the carriage as well. The horses stepped nervously, causing the vehicle to lurch forward.
Ackerly spun toward her, his expression accusing and angry. “You—” he shouted, but Eleanor widened her eyes and shook her head even as she continued to back away from him.
“No!”
She had to get out of there.
Though she wanted to believe Phin would still appear, she didn’t think he’d be shooting arrows at them.
As Ackerly’s face twisted with explosive rage and he prepped to lunge for her, a bellowing shout cut through the night.
“You’re not going anywhere, mate.”
The words—spoken in the accent of northern Scotland—drew hergaze to a very large figure wearing a greatcoat and brimmed hat that seemed to come out of nowhere, approaching slowly with a longbow drawn and an arrow trained upon Ackerly.
“Bloody bastard,” Ackerly spat. “You should be dead by now.”
“Funny thing, that,” the man noted in amusement as he continued forward. “Turns out, the assassin and I are in agreement.”
As he said the word assassin, Eleanor felt a breath of movement behind her. Before she could react, a slim arm snaked firmly around her throat as the prick of what could only be the point of a dagger poked her side.
This couldn’t be happening.
The large man towered over Ackerly as he reached them. Bringing the tip of his arrow to rest just below the lord’s chin, he lowered his tone to something fierce and angry. “It’s time you accepted that you’re not meant to have that necklace, mate.”
Ackerly scoffed. His arrogance undiminished despite the weapon aimed to kill him. “And you think you are, Weathers?”
Eleanor gasped a breath, causing the point of the dagger to prick sharply.
She knew that name. “Barnaby?” she whispered.
As soon as she said the name, the bowman turned his head in her direction. Lord Ackerly instantly took advantage of the man’s brief distraction by knocking the arrow to the side before lifting a hidden blade from his side, slicing it toward the larger man.
