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Hetty nodded but didn’t speak. She had no intention of abandoning him. Not now; not after everything they had been through.
He seemed to realise this. “Promise me now,” he demanded. He refused to leave the yard until he had her devout promise.
“I promise,” she replied reluctantly.
He studied her for a moment and considered whether to argue with her. For some strange reason, although she had said the words he wanted to hear, he rather suspected that she had just lied to him.
“Come on then. Our challenge awaits us,” he declared with an unrepentant grin.
He leaned forward in his saddle and slid the bolt back. The door swung silently open. They tore out of the courtyard, and raced toward the outskirts of town as though the hounds from Hell were right behind them.
In some ways, in spite of the fact that it was inevitable they would be seen, it was a relief to finally be on their way toward freedom.
“We are going to take a winding route away from here,” Charlie called once they reached the outskirts of town. “Then we are going to head to the safe house.”
He glanced across at her wind-flushed cheeks and the long, flowing strands of silken hair that had broken free of the tight bun tucked in the nape of her neck, and felt his heart lurch.
She looked utterly glorious with her hair cascading out behind her. Like a slender Boudicca leading her army to battle. His heart swelled with pride at her strength, and calmness in the face of crisis; her bravery and determination to do what was right, whatever the cost to herself.
Suddenly, his horse stumbled. The sudden jolt of it beneath him forced him to turn his attention back to the matter at hand.
It was then that his gaze was drawn to movement on the horizon behind them.
“Damn it all,” he cursed at the sight of the ten or so jailers teeming out of the side road after them.
He studied their surroundings, but couldn’t see anyone ahead of them just yet. He had no idea where Luke and Brendan were, but suspected that they had left the area completely by now given the speed they were riding. He could only hope that the rest of the jailers were still chasing them.
“We are going to get cut off,” Hetty cried as she glanced behind her and saw what had brought the worried to his eyes.
The heavy thundering of the horse’s hooves on the hard track was recklessly thrilling, and called to a wildness that seemed to be hidden deep inside her that she had never realised even existed. For one heady moment, she wanted to shout aloud with sheer enthusiastic joy of being free, but then the darkness of their serious situation stole it away again, and replaced it with fear and worry.
What have you done? She asked herself as she glanced behind again.
A brief wave of hopeless desperation swept through her when she started to count the number of jailers, but lost count after eight.
If she got caught, especially with Charlie, she wouldn’t need to worry about having to watch his execution for crimes he didn’t commit; she would be hung by the noose right next to his.
“What do we do?” she called when they turned down one road and into another, but the jailers continued their dogged pursuit. “We are going to get ambushed.”
“No we aren’t, darling,” Charlie argued. “Not while I have breath in my body.” He spoke through gritted teeth. His beautiful grey eyes were cold and hard. His mind raced as he plotted the route they were going to take and, in that moment, he was a total stranger to Hetty.
The thought that he was her husband left her feeling decidedly thrilled, at the same time as a little nervous. He was handsome, fierce, strong yet worryingly tender at times. He was an enigma still, but she had no hesitation in placing her life in his hands.
She had no idea how long they ran for. The horses began to grow tired but they continued to push them on, and raced through the countryside at breakneck speed. Field after field passed in a blur but, unfortunately, each time Hetty looked behind them, the jailers were still there.
“They just aren’t giving up,” she cried desperately when her horse slowed to a trot and refused to canter again, no matter how much she urged it to move.
“See if you can keep the horse going for a bit longer. There are hills up ahead. We can lose them in the trees. We need to change horses. These can’t keep running like this,” Charlie replied distractedly.
While he was fairly certain that Luke and Brendan had been chased, and had most probably evaded capture given how well they rode, there were still too many jailers after him and Hetty.
It made Charlie wonder if Meldrew had already brought in reinforcements overnight.
The thought made him mentally curse the crooked magistrate for his sheer bloody mindedness. If the man had appeared in front of Charlie right there and then, he would have no compunction against shooting him dead where he stood.
Meldrew was a criminal; nothing more, nothing less, and he should be the one being chased through the bloody countryside by half of sodding Derbyshire.
His fury was raw, and enough to fuel his determination to keep both him and Hetty safe. At least he now had Hetty beside him where he could keep a close, personal eye on her. Her presence beside him was enough to remove at least half of the worry that had plagued him since yesterday. The other half – getting to safety – he could practically taste.
