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“I said, get down,” he growled.
She stared toward the hills and contemplated the wisdom of riding off in total defiance of him but, if she was honest, she had no idea where Afferley was. It was foolish to leave him behind. Still, it irked her to have to comply with his order. To her surprise, once she had carefully dismounted, he disappeared into the woods behind him, leaving her with no choice but to follow.
The silence of the woods was broken only by the sound of birdsong, but it did
little to ease the tension that hovered over them.
Hetty stared at Charlie’s back at he walked a few feet ahead of her. Questions hovered on her lips, but the tension in the air forced her to keep them silent.
When he did stop, it was to motion to a small stream.
“Let them take a drink,” he said in a voice that was almost too quiet.
Hetty released her horse, and watched it join his beside the stream. Before she could follow, her elbow was suddenly caught in a firm grip and she was swung around to face him.
His lips swallowed her gasp, and her breath was squeezed out of her as she was held tightly against him.
Before she could return the caress, he lifted his head and glared down at her.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he growled darkly.
One hand captured the back of her head, and held her still while his lips laid claim to her senses. She had little choice but to stand and allow him to take what he wanted. She hadn’t the will to deny him anything. Not when his need seemed to match hers.
The feel of him, strong and steady before her, was more than she could deny herself. Her fingers tightened in the folds of his shirt and drew him closer as she returned his kisses with the depth of emotion she knew was love.
“God, don’t ever try to go off like that by yourself again,” he grumbled. “Ever.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “We are together.”
The sound of the raw emotion in his voice brought tears to her eyes. This time, they slowly trickled down her cheeks.
“I am sorry for shouting at you,” she hiccupped.
“You have every right to be angry,” he sighed. “I hate Meldrew too, but we cannot let our anger make us foolish. That search party are far too close for my liking. We need to get out of the area.”
She smiled tentatively at him and nodded, but couldn’t hide the worry from her eyes.
There was something a little beseeching about the gaze she turned on him, but he had idea how to answer it. This time, when his head lowered toward hers, the atmosphere shifted and, despite the fact that they were in the middle of the woods, they gave in to the need to assure themselves that all was forgiven, and they were still very much together.
Hetty gasped when he lifted her and pushed her back against the tree. She clutched at his shoulders to steady herself, surprised at the ferocity of the raw need that swept through them both. Her hands were as desperate as his as laces were loosened and clothes adjusted. Her gasp when he took possession was the last sound either of them heard for a very long time.
“You know, one of these days we are actually going to make love in a bed,” he murmured a little ruefully once her cries had subsided, and they lay in replete abandon on the thickly padded forest floor.
She smiled up at him, and opened her mouth to speak only for the distant peel of church bells to break the silence. Her smile dimmed as she listened to the noise.
“What day is it?” she asked with a frown.
Charlie thought about that for a moment. While he had been in jail, he had barely registered whether it was morning, noon or night. “I think it is Saturday, or Sunday.”
Hetty counted the days. “It’s Sunday,” she sighed. “Those are the bells for service. Are we near Hemsley?”
“No. We are several miles away,” he sighed.
Charlie helped her right her clothes, and settled her on his lap. “Who is running the services in Hemsley now? Has a new vicar been found yet?”
“I think the verger is doing everything the vicar used to do,” Hetty replied. “Snetterton has been the verger for years. He has delusions of grandeur, that one.”
“How so?”
Hetty sighed, and absently stroked the laces on Charlie’s shirt as she talked. “He was always trying to tell the vicar how to run the place. He organised so much, and often put many of the women off going to help out at the village fete and the like because he was so dogmatic about what he wanted. Everything had to be done his way, or not at all. The vicar tried to get Snetterton to let the villagers do things their way, on several occasions, but Snetterton just ignored him. I heard rumours that the Reverend Potts and Snetterton had many arguments.”
