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Tentatively, Diana leaned forward and stretched her arm toward the bag beside Annabelle, her heart racing. As she touched the bag, Annabelle shifted slightly, and Diana froze.
A moment later, she continued, pulling the bag, then lifted it and quickly brought it close, glancing up at Annabelle to make certain she was still. Diana opened the bag and inwardly squealed when she found a pistol. She removed it first and set it down on her right before taking out the handkerchief and bottle, keeping them as far away from her nose as she could.
She poured a generous amount onto the cloth, holding her breath the moment she perceived the sweet smell, then she closed it around Annabelle’s mouth and nose, holding it firmly with one hand while she pressed her shoulder into the seat with the other. “I am sorry,” Diana whispered when Annabelle’s eyes opened and she began to struggle. “I must save myself.”
Annabelle’s eyes rolled back and she stilled but Diana did not remove the handkerchief until she was sure that she was completely unconscious. A sigh escaped Diana and she moved back, but she did not linger before she turned and poured more of the liquid into the handkerchief. She checked the pistol to be sure it was loaded and used the butt to knock on the roof of the carriage. It slowed, then stopped, and she heard the hoofbeats of Crawford’s mount as he came to the carriage.
Diana waited, unmoving, for him to come to the door. It took a moment but she was ready, every muscle in her body braced to fight. As soon as it was opened and she saw him peer inside, she thrust the cloth at his face and followed with the pistol, pressing it into his chest to keep him in place. The shock in his eyes was rewarding but she had no time to feel victorious.
“I will shoot if you move,” she warned, watching his eyes dilate. He fell to the ground, and she followed him with her pistol pointed at the coachman, glad he was the only one remaining.
“I am just a coachman, ma’am.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Please do not shoot.”
“Then stay aloft,” she ordered.
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
Still aiming at the coachman, Diana opened Crawford’s coat to check for a weapon. It seemed the pistol in her hand was the only one, perhaps belonging to Annabelle as a backup if she were to be betrayed in this arrangement at the last moment. She mounted his horse and moved away from the carriage slowly, wary of the coachman, and once there was a good distance between them, she spurred the horse into a wild gallop, her jaw clenched, and her eyes keen on the road ahead.
Chapter 37
Three hours was how long Matthew, Glover, and Edgington had been riding for on a barren dirt road with no sign of the carriage carrying Diana. Matthew had urged his horse onward in the first hour, and it cooperated at first, galloping with the same ferocity with which his blood boiled, but it got tired and forced them to slow.
Now, it was growing weary again, and he knew he could not continue to push the poor creature, thus, he began to look for where he could stop to rest it for a while before continuing. He stroked the horse’s crest and steered it toward the side of the road. Glover and Edgington stopped, too.
“Three hours,” Glover said, inspecting his watch. “We should be nearing the carriage at our pace.”
They still were not fast enough, but Matthew nodded, his eyes roving the coarse heather-covered fields while the horses began to graze. The sun had already turned amber and was preparing to dip beyond the horizon. They had taken the shortest road out of Ashford because whoever had Diana was likely going to try to get as far ahead as possible in the shortest time.
“There is a rider coming this way,” Edgington said, squinting into the distance.
Matthew turned to look, and although he could barely make out who was atop the horse from this distance, he thought the rider rather small. As they neared, he was able to see that it was a woman, and the tawny hair flying in the wind nearly froze his heart.
His body was already reacting before his mind caught on, and Matthew was running, relief amalgamating with even more fear and anger. Diana slowed when she recognized him, but he did not stop running until he reached her. He picked her up from the horse and into his arms, holding her tightly, not breathing, not thinking, only feeling.
It was truly her, yet he felt as though everything was a dream and he would awaken to find himself still looking for her. “Matthew,” she said, her voice trembling.
He tightened his arms around her. “I am here, my love.”
“I…cannot…breathe!”
That jolted his senses and he quickly loosened his hold before gently setting her down and taking her face in his hands. “Are you harmed?”
“No, only tired,” she replied, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Diana, I love you.” He had to tell her that before anything more was said. “I love you so very much!”
“I love you too, Matthew. I have wanted to tell you for so long.”
He kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, moving to her lips and kissing them slowly. He did not care if Glover and Edgington were present. Diana was his, and she will never be taken away from him again. Ever.
He looked at her when he pulled away, marveling. She was holding a pistol, which he guessed was what she had used to escape. “I got away,” she said. “I did not know what trap Crawford had set for you. I had to find a way to you.”
Matthew stiffened. “Did you say Crawford?”
“Yes. My aunt helped him out of prison. I do not know how she did it, but I expect the promise of money was involved as she told him about my inheritance and he planned to take me to Scotland to force me to marry him.”
Diana had told him everything about her inheritance and how she had wanted to run away to claim it some time ago so she would be free. A tempest began inside him, and he turned to Edgington.
