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He swallowed and cant his head in the most cousinly way he could. “It isn’t that much farther, and I promised Aunt Libby I would not let you out of my sight.”

She slanted her chin with an equally slanted grin and reached out to touch his arm. “These are the king’s men, cousin. They will treat me far better than the Patriots have, I am sure of that.” That shallow dimple made a brief appearance before she lifted her face to the soldier. “I should be most pleased to accept your offer, sir. I thank you.”

“My pleasure, of course.”

She stood to climb down, but Joseph gripped her fingers, and she twisted to face him, fire pluming from the backs of her eyes, as he knew it did from his. But she would not be moved.

“Do not worry, cousin.” Rising, she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I shall see you before sunset.”

The soldier dismounted and helped Hannah down from the wagon, his hands lingering at her waist far longer than they should. In truth, Joseph should not have let the man touch her at all. What was he thinking allowing her to go through with this? Yet how could he protest? She was not a woman to be contradicted no matter how he wished he could rope her to the seat beside him and never allow her to leave his side.

The soldier nodded to Joseph, an indication he intended to give every remaining attention to Hannah.

Nearing the horse, Hannah grinned. “To whom am I to offer my unending thanks?”

He bowed his head. “Lieutenant Matthew Greene, my lady. At your service.”

She flicked a look to Joseph before the man aided her onto the saddle, her eyes wide and face as white as the snow on the trees.

Greene.

Joseph lurched but was held still, as if pulled back by an unseen hand. The man was astride and off with a nod before Joseph could put two thoughts together. Within moments, all of them were gone.

Every muscle, every vein and sinew strained until Joseph’s entire body alternately ached and burned. He should never have let her go. What was she thinking to accept such an offer? What was he thinking?

’Twas that very man who had taken Ensign’s life. Dearest Lord, protect her.

The fear in her face had all but cut through his chest.

He flicked the reins and kept the horses at as fast a pace as they could endure, but even then he would never match the speed the soldiers had taken. Accursed wagon. Accursed scheme!

If that man did anything to her—if she were not in a room, alone and content when Joseph returned, then Matthew Greene would not live to see another sunrise.

Chapter Eight

Joseph pounded on the rough wood planks of the door of the room he was informed Hannah occupied. Melted snow dripped from his shoulders and cocked hat. Why didn’t she answer? He pounded again, then looked down the dimly lit hall. He didn’t wish to disturb any others, but the longer he waited, the longer his nerves stretched to their thinnest.

He tried the handle. Locked. “Hannah, ’tis I. Let me in.” He whispered against the wood, but still his tone sounded more frantic than he would have wished, but it couldn’t be helped. The horrifying scenarios that had played in his mind since the moment she left his side refused to quiet their constant revolutions.

“Hannah, are you in there?” If she wasn’t, if he didn’t find her in the next second, he would—

The handle turned, and his heart leapt to his throat as the door opened. A weak smile on her face, Hannah motioned him to enter.

He rushed in, scanning the room to be sure she was alone before looking her over. “Are you all right? Why didn’t you answer right away?”

“Forgive me. I was…” She closed the door, her expression lost and voice hollow. “I suppose I was so consumed by thought I didn’t hear you.”

Joseph stilled, claiming her eyes when he spoke again, this time clear and low. “Are you all right?”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Aye.”

He stepped closer, fighting the strange and sudden urge to touch her cheek, to study her face, to know if really all was as well as she claimed it to be, for that was the only way his reckless fears could finally be calmed.

A flash of her smile allowed him to inhale a bit deeper, but still he clenched his fists, arms rigid at his sides. “What happened on the ride?”

The indignant tip of her head he expected at such a demand never happened. She hugged her middle and went to the window, staring out at the huge flakes that floated aimlessly. “We spoke little. He asked our destination, and I answered him truthfully, saying we are returning to our uncle’s foundry.” She paused, her throat moving. “He acted as if nothing had happened there. As if he was not acquainted with that place at all. He said nothing of the British taking it. Nothing of Ensign’s death.” Her voice cracked, and a stray tear blinked from her red-rimmed eyes. “A death he is responsible for.”

Dear Hannah.

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