The driver grabbed her arm. Amelia jerked away immediately.
“Leave me alone! Stop!” she yelled as loud as she could. “Help!”
“Stand still, wench,” he said as he pawed at her.
She fought him desperately, shouting for help over and over. The bag fell into the mud. The driver cursed. His fingers caught the fabric of her gown. The sound of tearing cloth filled the air. Amelia screamed. Panic consumed her completely.
She kicked. Scratched. Struggled. But he was stronger. Far stronger. The driver seized her shoulders. Amelia shoved him with everything she had. For one glorious second, he stumbled. Then he struck her aside. She fell backward.
Pain exploded through her skull as her head struck the ground. The world spun violently. Everything blurred. The grey sky above seemed to twist.
This is it. I’ve been foolish.
The terrible thought flashed through her mind. After everything. After escaping her parents. After fleeing the marriage. Afterfinally finding freedom. This was how it ended. Then suddenly, she heard barking.
Loud. Ferocious. Close. The driver shouted in alarm. Horse hooves thundered across the road. A man’s voice barked an order. Another shout followed. Then the unmistakable sounds of a struggle. Amelia tried to focus. The world refused to cooperate. Shapes moved before her blurred vision. A large dog lunged. Someone cried out. Someone fell. The sounds seemed distant now. Far away.
Darkness crept inward from the edges of her vision. A face appeared above her. Broad shoulders. Dark features. A man’s voice. Deep and steady.
“You are safe now.”
Amelia tried to speak. The words would not come. The blurry stranger remained beside her as darkness swallowed everything. Then she knew no more.
Chapter Two
“Well?” Gabriel asked. The thirty-four-year-old Duke of Anderton stood near the hearth with one broad shoulder resting against the mantel.
John released a slow breath. “She is alive.”
“I had already deduced that,” Gabriel replied. His dark grey eyes drifted down to the gauze wrapped around his hand. Blood still stained portions of the bandage despite John’s efforts.
“You are welcome,” John teased.
Gabriel scowled. John smiled faintly. The fire crackled softly inside the guest chamber at Anderton Manor. Shadows danced across the walls as the flames cast a warm glow over the unconscious woman lying upon the bed.
Dr. John Hunt sat beside the bed examining the young woman once more. His experienced hands checked her pulse beforegently lifting one eyelid. He frowned thoughtfully. Gabriel watched him in silence. He trusted very few people in the world. In truth, there was only one man he trusted completely, the man that Benedict told him to trust. He took that recommendation to heart, and John quickly became a close friend.
“Her pulse is steady. Her breathing is normal. The bump on her head appears relatively minor.” He glanced toward Gabriel. “Frankly, I cannot tell much more until she wakes.”
“Then wake her,” Gabriel said.
John blinked. “That is not how medicine works.”
“It ought to,” Gabriel groaned.
“Fortunately, I attended medical school rather than the Duke of Anderton School of Shouting at Problems.”
Gabriel folded his arms. John ignored the glare entirely. He had become remarkably immune to Gabriel’s intimidating presence.
“She should have regained consciousness by now,” John continued. “Her head injury appears minor enough. There are no obvious signs of severe trauma.” His expression became thoughtful. “It is peculiar.”
Gabriel looked toward the bed. The woman appeared small beneath the blankets. Even unconscious, she looked exhausted. Mud-stained portions of her gown. One sleeve was torn.The sight reignited his anger. If he had arrived a minute later, matters might have ended very differently. The thought darkened his mood instantly.
A knock sounded at the door.
Without waiting for permission, Mrs. Jacobs entered carrying fresh wood for the fireplace. The housekeeper was a sturdy woman in her sixties who had spent most of her life managing Anderton Manor. She glanced briefly at the sleeping woman before adding more logs to the fire.
“There,” she said. “The poor thing will not freeze.”
