His gaze dropped to her throat. “The brooch.”
Leticia’s hand rose to the empty space. “She took it.”
His jaw tightened once. “We leave,” Gabriel said. “Now.”
Barrington looked over. “If we take the road they will chase. We may not shake them.”
“We do not take the road,” Gabriel said. He turned to Leticia. “Can you ride?”
“Yes,” she said. The word found its strength as she spoke it.
He lifted her into the saddle of the gelding. The leather creaked under her weight. He mounted behind her in one sure move. His arm caged her with the reins. His chest set firm against her back, steady and warm. For one heartbeat, he allowed himself to hold that closeness before the work returned.
“Across the lower fields,” he told Barrington. “They will expect us east. We will not give it to them.”
Barrington nodded. “I will take the lane and hold the next turn. We will meet at the marker beyond the rise.” His gaze flicked to Leticia and softened for half a breath. “My lady.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Barrington was already moving. He called two men to stay andwatch the captives. He sent a third to fetch the team forward and lead them out of the worst of the mud.
Gabriel set his heels. The gelding stepped out and stretched. The hedge fell away behind them. The hollow’s damp chill gave over to the sharper cold of the open field. The moon broke free and painted the ridge in pale silver.
Leticia leaned back into him for balance as the pace built. It put her spine to his chest. It put his breath warm at her ear. It set the beat of his heart against her shoulder blades. The kiss still burned in her mouth. The fear still shook faintly in her hands. Both truths could live at once. She drew in air that smelled of frost and horses and the simple, clean fact of motion.
They ran until the field gave way to a narrow cut that climbed toward a marker stone worn by years of weather. Gabriel slowed to read the land. The inland lane curved ahead and dropped from sight. He lifted his head and listened. Far off and low, he caught the grind of wheels. Behind that sound lay the murmur of men. Not close. Not far. Somewhere between.
“We are ahead of them,” he said.
“And Erica,” Leticia asked. “She left us at the Cross.”
“She is not here,” Gabriel said. “But she has left her shadow on this road.”
Leticia saw the ring on the guard’s hand as if it still turned in the lamp light. A diamond with a bird inside it. She told him. He did not answer at once. His jaw worked. His hand tightened on the reins. He looked at the lane and at the hedge and at the dark beyond.
“You did well,” he said. “You saw, and even stressed, you remembered.”
She let that praise settle where the rope had bitten. It soothed more than the knife had.
Barrington’s bay came up on their left at a steady canter. He drew even for a stride. “We found a false floor in the coach,” he said. “Empty. They were meant to carry something or to take something away.”
“Not tonight,” Gabriel said.
“No,” Barrington said. “Not tonight.”
They rode together through a thinning hedge until the lane widened to a patch of bare ground where a milestone lay on its side. Barrington raised two fingers to his men, who had cut across by a shorter track. They spread without noise and took positions that watched both the bend and the field.
Gabriel kept the gelding in the shadow and steadied his breathing until his chest no longer burned. He could feel the tremor that ran through Leticia’s shoulders begin to fade. He rested his hand for one moment at her waist, where the rope had pressed. He then took up the reins.
A thin wind came down the lane. It brought with it the sour tang of lamps that had been hooded too long and the stale smoke of men who had stood and waited for orders in a damp place. He stored the scent away. Even a small thing could matter.
The hollow behind them held its silence. The men they had left there would be moving by now under Barrington’s guard. The driver would be thinking about the choices he had made. The guards would be learning how long a night could be.
Leticia looked over her shoulder. There was no fear in the movement. Only a need to see him. In the dim light, his eyes met hers. He reached again and touched her cheek with his knuckles. It was no kiss, but it carried the same heat.
“Stay close,” he said.
“I do not intend to do anything else,” she said.
