Her chin came up. “There’s somethingworsethan having your throat slit?”
Ian suspected her of being impertinent and his temper flared, but Charley came to her rescue. “Here now, take it easy, Campion. She’s more than a bit naïve. You know how the Quality are. You have to treat her with kid gloves a bit and talk to her like she’s ten.”
Miss Harrell whirled on him as if set on fire. “You don’t need to coddle me!”
“Beg pardon, miss, but we did.”
Here was the last bit of treachery and it hit Miss Harrell hard. “You didn’t,” she insisted.
“We did,” Charley confessed. “And you’d best go with Campion. You really shouldn’t be hanging with the likes of us.” Duci and Betty had ventured to the edge of the woods and they sadly nodded agreement.
“It’s been good fun,” Duci added, “but you must return home.”
Miss Harrell looked to Betty. “What of my tarot reading?”
“Ah, now, Viveka, that was real…and was I not right? Here is Campion and your course has changed.”
“This man is no Knight,” Miss Harrell pronounced. “And I am not going with him, even if I mustwalkthe distance to Amleth Hall.”
With that grand pronouncement, she turned and would have marched off into the woods—save for Ian’s hooking his hand in her arm.
He swung her around. “It looks like I must carry you then.”
“You wouldn’tdare.”
“Oh, I’d dare, Miss Harrell. I’d dare.” He slid his other arm through a strap of his knapsack, ready to pick her up. She stepped back, clenching her fists as if preparing to give him a punch if he came nearer.
“Come now, Campion,” Charley pleaded. “Give her a moment to calm down.” He came forward to mediate when a pistol crack sounded in the air. The heat of the shot whizzed past Ian and missed Miss Harrell’s head by inches, burying itself in the side of the wagon.
The only thing that had saved her was her step back at his approach.
Ian pushed Miss Harrell behind him and turned on Charley, who immediately declared, “Wasn’t me, Campion. I don’t do guns.”
“It must be Harrell. He wants your hide, Charley.” And it would be completely in character for him to have had Ian followed to exact his revenge.
“Yes, but the shot was aimed at me,” Miss Harrell argued.
“No, it was aimed at Charley,” Ian replied, irritated beyond words with her countermanding everything he said. “Your father wants him dead.”
The next shot almost struck Charley. “Run!” Ian ordered impatiently.
The Londoner didn’t have to be told twice. His feet moved so fast they churned up dirt, while the women melted into the woods.
Ian held a hand up in the air and turned to confront the unknown assailants. “Wait! I have Harrell’s daughter. She’s safe.”
The answer was another pistol shot, this one most definitely marked for Miss Harrell.
“See? He’s shooting at me!” she insisted.
“Yes,” he agreed, pushing her around the wagon.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” A third shot splintered wood at the corner close to his head.
“Damn,” Ian swore. “There’s a party of them.” He shielded her with his body while pulling his pistol from his belt. “Climb in the wagon. Take cover.”
“Perhaps we should run for the trees?”
