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The man went down without so much as a grunt. As he lowered him quietly to the ground, Julius felt the man’s neck. Nothing. He was dead. One down.
Hurrying back around to the pile of tinder he’d laid on the far side of the dell, he struck a spark and nursed it carefully into a healthy flame. In a matter of minutes, it would catch on the dry bark of the dead, hollow tree beside it. He remained only long enough to make sure it wouldn’t die out and then returned to Primero to circle the little valley once more.
Bright flames shot up just as he reached the other side, and shouts erupted from below as the two men leaped to their feet in alarm. One ran immediately to his horse and mounted, leaving the other behind to fend for himself. He rode up and out of the dell as if the devil were on his heels.
And he was.
Julius smiled grimly as he caught up to him. The man didn’t even turn to see who he was, apparently assuming that his accomplice had taken the better part of valor along with him. Pulling the startled man from his seat, Julius tossed him to the ground. The man had no time to recover before Primero reared up on his hind legs and slashed at him with his hooves.
Julius was nearly unseated and had to grab hold of the horse’s mane to remain in the saddle.
Once his victim lay quiescent, Primero stood, snorting and trembling. Julius lay across his neck, shaking as well. Destrier indeed! There was little doubt this horse had seen battle at some point. He patted him, murmuring into his ear, and gently urged him to return to the dell.
He halted at the rim again, peering through the smoke. Blast. The last man, or so he’d thought him to be, had been joined by another. He must have been inside the cottage.
Julius gritted his teeth and pulled out a pistol and cocked it. The other he left tucked into the back of his breeches. He left Primero untethered and went down into the copse. Primero would lead Richmond’s men back here if he did not return. The ruffians’ horses were still tied near the cottage. He could use them to get Victoria back to the manor.
A scream rent the night, and Julius’s heart stopped. Victoria! He ran into the clearing in time to see one of the men trying to heave her struggling form up onto the saddle of a horse. He took aim, praying he didn’t hit Victoria, and fired.
A dark spot bloomed in the center of the man’s back, and he slumped to the ground. Victoria tumbled down after him and lay kicking and screaming atop him. The other man, seeing his partner fall, had sense enough to run for cover and slipped back into the cottage.
Tossing the spent weapon aside and cocking the other, Julius went after him. He couldn’t leave an enemy loose while he freed Victoria. He ran across the clearing. As expected, a shot rang out.
No pain followed the report, however, and Julius continued onward.
Another shot cracked through the chill air.
This time, he felt a stinging in his arm. He ducked behind a tree, not knowing how many guns might have been stashed within the cottage. Taking up a sturdy branch, he tied his cloak to it and slowly exposed it to view.
No more shots were fired. The man inside must be reloading. Quickly, he rose and dashed to the side of the hut. The sky glowed orange above, and flames licked the rim of the shallow depression; his fire had taken hold better than he’d hoped. With any luck, it would draw the attention of those at Richmond Manor and they’d send help.
Turning back to the task at hand, he kicked in the door and leaped quickly to the side. A shout from within begged for mercy, but he had none to give.
“Come out, or I’ll set fire to this place and burn it to the ground with you inside it!”
“Wot, an ’ave you shoot me dead soon as I show meself?” It was the voice of the one who’d suggested “a bit of fun.”
Julius’s blood heated, and he sprang through the door, pistol raised. A filthy-looking man huddled in the corner, dressed in what were obviously stolen garments: a stained and rumpled but well-made jacket of grey watered silk, a pair of finely crafted leather boots—and Victoria’s thick riding cloak.
The thief stared up at him, terrified. “Take ’er, for all I care! Jus?
? leave me be!” he whined, showing a mouth full of holes where teeth ought to have been.
Julius pulled a look of disgust and made as if to turn away. Watching from the corner of his eye, he saw the man shift. Whirling, he fired. His target slumped to the ground, the dagger he’d concealed falling from his hand. After nudging the thief with his boot to satisfy himself that the man was indeed dead, he went back to the door and scanned the area.
Victoria now lay at the edge of the wood, trying her best to worm her way out of the bindings at her wrists and ankles as she scooted toward freedom. When she heard him approach, she screamed and rolled aside, kicking viciously with her bound legs.
“Victoria, stop! It’s me!”
She stilled and turned. “Julius?” she gasped. “But how did—”
“We must leave this place. At once.” He cut her bindings away and peered nervously into the gloom beyond the firelight’s reach. “I counted only four, but there may be more.”
“There were only four.” Tears streamed down her dirty—but still beautiful—face. “You were right. I should never have come back. I didn’t see any smoke when I arrived, but it was late in the day and I wasn’t really paying attention. They must have heard me scolding Primero as I brought him down the path. They surrounded us before I knew it. I wounded one of them, but before I could get away, the others had grabbed me. Primero tried to attack one of them, but when I saw another take aim at him, I shouted for him to run.”
“He came back without you. Your little Charlie was beside himself when he found him. Primero led me back here to you.”
“I’m very lucky that he is so smart.”
