Lord Pemberley smiled with quiet satisfaction and mounted his horse before extending a gloved hand. “Wise choice.”
Ignoring every instinct screaming within her, Seraphine accepted his hand and climbed into the saddle before him. She looked back one final time.
Rosaline stood frozen beside the carriage, tears streaming freely as she clutched Annie in her arms.
Augustus dug his heels into the horse. The animal surged forward. Within seconds they disappeared beneath the trees with the second man following close behind.
Branches whipped past as the horse galloped deeper into the woodland. Seraphine forced herself to remain outwardly calm despite the terror threatening to overwhelm her. Lord Pemberley held the reins with one hand while the other remained firmly around her waist to keep her in the saddle.
“You are surprisingly composed,” he observed.
“I have learned not to waste panic.”
He laughed. “How admirable.”
Seraphine lowered her eyes. Her gaze settled upon the reins. An idea formed. Dangerous. Desperate. Perhaps impossible. But better than surrendering. She waited. The horse slowed slightly as the path narrowed.
Now.
Without warning, Seraphine seized the reins with both hands and jerked them sharply sideways.
The startled horse reared violently. Augustus cursed. Both riders were thrown from the saddle. They struck the forest floor in a tangle of limbs and flying leaves. Pain exploded through Seraphine's shoulder as she rolled across the ground.
She scrambled backwards. Lord Pemberley climbed to his feet first; his face twisted with fury.
“You foolish little…”
The thunder of approaching hooves cut him off. Both turned. A black stallion burst through the trees.
Damien.
He rode like a man possessed. His expression was one Seraphine had never seen before, pure, controlled fury.
He launched himself from the saddle before the horse had fully stopped.
“Get away from her.” His voice was low. Deadly.
Augustus drew a pistol, but Damien closed the distance before he could properly aim. With a powerful sweep of his forearm, Damien knocked the weapon aside. It discharged harmlessly into the trees. Lord Pemberley staggered, then lunged with a knife drawn from his boot.
Steel flashed. Damien caught his wrist.
The two men struggled fiercely, boots digging into the forest floor.
“Do something,” Lord Pemberley shouted at his accomplice, who Seraphine had all but forgotten.
Augustus swung wildly, but Damien drove a hard punch into his ribs, forcing the knife from his grasp. Damien grabbed the blade and threw it at the accomplice, nicking his arm.
The man's eyes grew wide, and he turned and rode off. The blade disappeared into the undergrowth. Another blow sent Augustus crashing to one knee.
“You should have left England,” Damien growled.
The Viscount tried to rise. Damien tackled him back to the ground.
Within moments, he had knocked Augustus unconscious. Damien rose, breathing hard. In the distance came the unmistakable sound of more horses approaching.
Constables.
Damien turned immediately to Seraphine. All the fury vanished from his face.
