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“It’s not worth getting shot over. We’ll be back in London by midmorning, and you can worry about shoes then. Now be quiet so I can listen for pursuit.”
His anger was deserved, every bit of it and more.
Her tired mind simply couldn’t push beyond the moment, and her heart was reluctant to even try now that Henry was here. Instead, she leaned into him, savoring the solid warmth of his broad chest against her back.
Though it was early May, her bare feet were like ice. But she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was here, and that the distance between her and hell grew with every second that passed.
The moon rode high between racks of clouds, peeking down at the fugitives every few minutes, along with the occasional glimmering star. Utterly drained, she drifted into a state on the very edge of slumber. Reality seemed very far away as they galloped along the dull ribbon of the road winding between the hills.
AS SOON AS he was certain she was asleep, Henry gradually turned his horse in a long, smooth arc until they were headed back northwest. Giving Leeds a wide berth, he passed through Armley, crossed the river at the shallows of Kirkstall Ford, and headed for the Dales.
He would like to have shot Fairford and ended matters there, but the blackguard had been unarmed and there were too many witnesses. It wouldn’t serve him to rescue Sabrina only to hang for murdering a murderer.
Scotland was the only viable solution. There would be a pursuit, of that he had no doubt. With any luck, his enemy would assume they’d headed straight back to London and try to catch them on the southerly road. With his man at his side, the odds were in Fairford’s favor, should they be caught.
Dawn tinged the east with deepest cobalt. Slowly, it spread and lightened until a streak of deepest rose broke through at the horizon.
He sniffed the air. The clouds scudding across the sky had a look of rain about them. He prayed it would hold off for a little longer. As they neared Hawes, he let his tired horse slow to a walk.
The change of pace along with the encroaching light awakened Sabrina. “Where are we?” she mumbled roughly, blinking up at the turbulent sky.
“We’re going to have to change horses here. You’d best get down and have a stretch of the legs while you can when we stop.”
“I can’t,” she grumbled. “I have no shoes, remember?”
“I’ll try to purchase some in the village,” he promised. “For the right price, I’m sure someone will have something suitable.”
Cresting a low hill, they paused briefly to gaze down at the little hamlet spread out below. All was quiet and still as its denizens slept in the predawn silence before the cock’s crow.
They picked their way down, and he stopped them in front of an inn, dismounted, and helped her down, spreading his cloak over the grass to keep the dust from her feet. “I’ll speak with the proprietor and see where we might be able to purchase some shoes, as well as arrange for a new mount. Wait here for me.”
Sabrina stretched and winced, longing for a soft bed, not to mention something to silence the rumbling in her middle. Where on earth were they? Wherever they were, it certainly didn’t look like any place she’d passed yesterday. Dark, forbidding clouds hung low, diffusing the light so that she couldn’t even tell where the sun was.
Turning, she saw a skinny, blond girl carrying an enormous bundle of what looked like wool. The threadbare rags she wore barely covered her, and she looked half-starved. “Pardon me, but could you tell me where I am?”
The waif cracked a knowing grin. “Stole ye away, then, did ’e?”
“I came of my own free will.”
Freckles elongated as the girl’s mischievous smile broadened. “’E must be a catch indeed fer yer ladyship t’ come a’runnin’ t’ the anvil wi’ bare feet!”
“Are you going to tell me where I am or not?” Sabrina repeated a little crossly, her patience wearing thin.
The girl chortled, obviously in no hurry to oblige. “Yer in Hawes,” she finally said.
Sabrina frowned. “And where is that?”
With a sigh, the girl set her bundle down and scratched her nose. “Ye really don’t know, do ye? Yer in the Dales.”
“What? But that’s the wrong way, that’s—” Halfway to Scotland. North. They were headed north.
“Now ye see it!” the little ragamuffin said with a smirk, shouldering her load again and ambling off.
Henry came out of the inn, a pair of boots in one hand, some stockings, garters, and a worn cloak in the other. “Here. They might be a bit bigger than you want, but they’ll keep your feet dry. Damn things cost almost as much as a new pair in London,” he grumbled, presenting the footwear. “The innkeeper’s wife refused to part with them for less than a small fortune.”
Sabrina looked at the offering. The boots were not pretty, but they were in decent condition. Snatching them and the other items, she immediately sat to don them, not caring if the entire world saw her calves and ankles
as she pulled on the stockings. She tied the knee garters quickly and slid on the still-warm boots; he must’ve bought them right off the woman’s feet. It was an odd sensation, wearing someone else’s shoes. But it was that or do without.
