Page 35 of Reckless Desire

Kenna shrugged. “No matter.”

They walked for five minutes when the creak of carriage wheels sounded.

They slowed. Kenna stared at the road, torn between wishing mightily for a carriage and a blanket and being seen with Lord Newhall. Sir Stirling wouldn’t really make her marry someone she didn’t want to marry, would he? Lady Chastity would never allow it.

“Into the trees, quick,” Lord Newhall said.

“But we need a ride,” she said.

“What if it is Hensley?” he said.

She hadn’t considered that. They hurried back into the trees and he urged her behind a large trunk.

“Stay here,” he whispered, then slunk back toward the road.

Kenna peered around the tree. The viscount stopped just within the trees. A chill breeze washed over her. Walking had kept her warm. Kenna wrapped her arms around herself and tried to rub the gooseflesh away. Now that they’d stopped walking, the cold began to seep through to her bones. She hoped the owner of the carriage would stop and give them a ride. How would they explain their situation? Sir Stirling would take care of that detail. He was known by practically everyone and had a way of swaying others to his point of view.

Leaves rustled behind her. Kenna started to turn. A meaty hand clamped over her mouth. For an instant, confusion froze her, then she heard, “Bloody wench. Ye nearly got me killed.”

Her kidnapper.

Kenna started to stamp her foot down on his foot, then realized that her slippered foot would do no damage to his booted foot. She bit down on his fingers. He yowled in pain and Kenna yanked his hand from her mouth. She screamed as loudly as she could.

She rammed her elbow into the man’s belly and tore from his grip. She scooped up a nearby rock and whirled as he lunged for her. She experienced a split second of doubt, then swung. The rock made contact with his cheek. A loud crack sounded and the sensation of the rock mashing against flesh caused her stomach to roil. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Kenna backed up two steps, dropped the rock, then whirled and ran. The trees flew past in a blur. Her toe hit something hard. She crashed to the soft ground. Wind knocked from her, she pushed to her knees, spitting dirt and dried leaves from her mouth and nose. Hands seized her shoulders and dragged her to her feet.

Not again.

Anger tightened her hands into fists. She drove her fist into his belly. Pain radiated up her arm. “Beast!” she shouted.

The man grunted. “Christ, Miss Ramsay, you will be the death of me, yet.”

Kenna froze and Lord Newhall’s face swam into focus. Tears stung. She flung herself into his arms. He swung her into his arms and Kenna buried her face into his neck. “I killed him.”

“Killed who?” he demanded.

“Th-the man who kidnapped me.”

“Good,” he muttered.

“Will I go to prison?” she said between hiccups.

“Nae, lass.”

Kenna realized he was walking. For the first time in her life, she wanted to flee the woods. She hoped he was taking her far from this place.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Hush,” he whispered.

She strained to hear whatever noise he was hearing, but heard only the thundering of her heart. He halted.

“What—”

“Shhh,” he hissed. He was silent for half a dozen heartbeats, then pressed his mouth against her ear and said, “Something is up ahead.”

Her heart beat faster. Something—or someone. Was he going to leave her alone again?