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Payne took a fistful of her hair and pulled her face close to his. “Now start walking up the hill.”

“Let her go, Payne.” Like the crack of a whip, Adam’s voice cut through the darkness.

Jolted into action, Payne swung Phoebe around, clamping her up against his torso. Holding perfectly still, Phoebe waited, praying that her ears had not deceived her.

“Dunsbourne? Is that you?” Payne’s words were coated with sarcasm and loathing. “You arrived back in time to witness the complete demise of your estate after all.”

“Incorrect. I arrived back in time to put an end to your vile machinations.”

Phoebe’s knees threatened to give way. She had not been dreaming; it had been Adam’s voice that she had heard. Focusing on her breathing rather than on Payne’s ugly laughter, she tried to clear her head.

“And just how do you intend to do that?” Payne mocked.

“I have a gun.”

In the silence that followed, Phoebe thought she heard the sound of hooves over the crackle of the fire and the distant voices.

“Perhaps you do; perhaps you don’t. Either way, I have Miss Hadford.” He pressed his arm into Phoebe’s ribs, causing her to give a muffled cry. “Which is more important to you, Dunsbourne? My life or hers?”

“You let her go and I shall let you go,” Adam said.

“No!” Phoebe’s cry was incomprehensible to anyone but her. She tugged against Payne’s arm. Adam must not give up this chance to capture the man who had haunted him for so long.

“You are not very good at this, are you, my lord. Negotiations such as these do not operate on mutual trust.”

“Have no fear, Payne. I am well aware that you are the most untrustworthy rat living above ground. Unlike you, however, I am a gentleman, and I am cognizant of the fact that your time to concede is rapidly drawing to a close.”

“And why is that?”

Adam stepped into the small circle of light Payne’s smoldering branch gave off. “Because in the next few minutes, a small legion of men will come riding over the crest of the hill behind you intent on helping quench the fire you started in my orchard. They are come from Charwell Park, which, as you well know, is Miss Hadford’s home. I am quite sure that every one of those men—her father, in particular—would be happy to run you through if you have not released Miss Hadford to my custody by the time they reach us.”

Payne was rattled. Phoebe sensed the change in him instantly. His feet shifted uneasily, and he turned his head to glance behind them. The thunder of hooves was unmistakable now. And in the quiet of the night, it sounded like the approach of an army.

“You let Miss Hadford go, and I shall let you go,” Adam repeated.

“Drop your weapon,” Payne demanded.

Keeping his eyes on Payne, Adam lowered his pistol to the ground.

“Now take three steps back.”

“This is as far as I am willing to go, Payne. The gun is no longer in my hand. Release Miss Hadford and you have my word that I will not shoot.”

Behind them, the first rider crested the hill. In one swift movement, Payne pushed Phoebe aside and swiped his smoldering branch across the hem of her gown. The fabric caught fire, and he bolted. Horror captured Phoebe’s voice. With her arms still pinned behind her back, she staggered backward. The wind rushed by, and the glowing orange light dusting her skirts turned to flames consuming her petticoats.

“Phoebe!”

She had one second to register Adam’s call before his arms were around her and he knocked her off her feet. Cradling her head against his chest, he rolled them both across the dirt path and back again. The vibration of hooves rumbled through the earth beneath them. Pressing his back against the shrubs, Adam pulled her clear of the path just before a single horseman galloped by. The moment he was gone, Adam’s fingers were pulling at the knot in the fabric behind her head. She felt it loosen. Carefully, he withdrew Payne’s cravat from her mouth.

“Forgive me. I did not mean to mistreat you. Rolling your skirts in the dust was the only way to smother the flames before they took hold.”

“You . . . you . . .” Her tongue was swollen, and her mouth was dry. She could not form all the words she wanted to say—the ones that told him that he should have gone after Payne but that she was so grateful he had not.

More hooves shook the ground.

“Quickly,” he said. “I must free your arms.” He ran his hands down her arms until he reached the fabric at her wrists. His fingers pulled at the knot, but it did not give way. He muttered a curse. The horses were so close Phoebe could hear the high-pitched roaring of their breaths.

“There is no time. They are almost upon us.” Adam pulled her close and rolled another half turn so his back shielded her from the flying hooves of what must have been every horse in her father’s stable. Dust filled the already smoky air. Adam coughed. Phoebe felt his chest tighten against her cheek as he struggled for air, and she pulled back to give him room to breathe.