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“I say! What is all this commotion?” Fairford’s voice bellowed out into the hall. “What sort of an establishment is this? Where is the owner? I demand an answer this inst—”
His voice suddenly fell silent. A moment later, he appeared at Sabrina’s demolished door, which was now dangling by one hinge at a crazy angle. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. “Sabrina?”
Henry’s arm whipped up. In it was a pistol. “If you so much as twitch a finger, I will pull this trigger and rid the world of your worthless hide.”
“Montgomery? What the hell do you mean coming here in the middle of the night and accosting my fiancée?” barked Fairford.
“I mean to take her back home, you son of the devil!” he replied. “And if you follow us, if I so much as see a hair of your head on the horizon, I will kill you.”
She knew Henry meant it. And, as he was the one holding the weapon at the moment, there was nothing Fairford could do but concede.
“I would not dream of it,” said he. “Only have the simple manners to allow the lady to make her own decision regarding whether to go with you or to remain here with me.” He turned to her, holding out a hand. “Sabrina?”
“I will go with Lord Montgomery,” she answered, drawing closer to Henry.
Fairford’s brows drew together. “With this…this madman? But why? I thought you wished to marry me?”
“Be—”
“Because there are no fitting words to describe the sort of twisted, cowardly animal you are,” interjected Henry.
“Cowardly? Who is the one pointing the gun at an unarmed man?” shouted Fairford, plainly hoping to garner the sympathies of those gathering behind him in the hall. “Sabrina, don’t listen to this raving lunatic. Come with me and let us have done with this nonsense!”
“I know about the girl,” snarled Henry.
Fairford paused for a moment, then: “Girl? What girl?”
“The French girl you bought from Madam Boucher.”
She watched the other man freeze into damning stillness.
“If you come after us,” said Henry, “if you give us any sort of trouble at all, I will publicly expose you for what you really are, right before I personally relocate your vitals.”
Swallowing nervously, the other man nodded.
“Now, move back,” commanded Henry, keeping the gun leveled at his enemy’s gut.
Fairford did as ordered, backing up until he was completely out of the room.
The moment the people in the hall saw the gun, they wisely chose to disappear back into their rooms.
Henry thrust her behind him when they reached the stair. “Go outside and wait for me. I’ll be right there. I really wouldn’t advise coming after us,” he said, again addressing Fairford. “Not unless you like the idea of a hole in your belly.”
When she reached the bottom, she stopped and watched as Henry slowly backed down, keeping the gun trained on his target. As he joined her, she whispered a quick warning about the valet in the stables.
“Then I’m afraid we’ll have to ride double for a while,” he replied.
They moved quickly across the dark yard, avoiding the stables. Just as they reached the middle, however, a shout sounded from the inn, and Sabrina turned to see a shadow at her window, which was still open.
A heartbeat later, she saw a flash and heard a shot ring out. She screamed over the neighing of the horses in the stables as Henry lifted his weapon and returned fire. “Go!” he shouted, hurrying her toward the woods.
He found his horse, and they quickly mounted and fled.
“Wait!” she cried, thinking of the bundle she’d thrown in the yard. “Go back! My things—I’ve money and clothing, and my boots! I threw them down before you came in and—”
“Leave it!” yelled Henry over the wind.
“But I’m barefoot!”
