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“All right,” she reluctantly said. “But we can’t sit around doing nothing. Those men made it very clear that they’re not stopping, so we need to stopthem.”
Braden waved down the hackney. “Agreed. We have to come up with a better plan than wandering about Old Town looking for clues, or trying to sneak up on the Hanging Judge. Your cover is blown, Samantha, so it’s time to regroup.”
When she mumbled a salty oath under her breath, Braden had to smother a grin. His lass might look dainty and unassuming, but she had the heart of a lion.
Your lass?
“So, what do we do?” she asked.
He shook off the sense that he’d somehow just made a momentous decision.
“First, we’ll get off the street. Then you’re going to tell me everything you know. No more half-truths or evasions.”
“For a supposedly mild-mannered physician, you’re very bossy,” she said sardonically.
“Surely you’ve heard the old adage that physicians view themselves as God-like?”
When she scoffed, some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. Samantha now had her fear under control, which meant they could think and plan from a rational standpoint. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite sure how to begin navigating through such an epic mess.
That’s why he needed information.He also needed her complete trust.
The hackney pulled to a halt. Braden helped Samantha up to the seat, gave the driver the address, and climbed in beside her. He had to crowd her in the small carriage, thigh to thigh, which his stupid brain didn’t mind one bit.
They jolted off, the horse clopping slowly along the street. Samantha went quiet as she stared down at her gloved hands, curled around the top of her walking stick.
“All right there?” he asked.
“Didn’t you find the conversation with those two thugs rather bizarre?”
“This entire night has been rather bizarre, but I take your point. The one fellow was studying us. The other was simply muscle, most of which was between his ears.”
“He certainly didn’t take kindly to you calling him a moron. Why did you keep insulting them?”
“I was doing a little studying of my own. I wanted to see how they would react to being pushed.”
“Seemed rather risky to me.”
He gave her an incredulous glance. “Really? You’re calling my behavior risky?”
She flapped a hand. “You know what I mean. Under those specific circumstances.”
“I’ll remind you of that the next time we find someone pointing a pistol at us.”
“Now you’re just being annoying.”
“It’s been an annoying evening. I can think of better ways to spend my time.”
Like wooing and kissing the pretty lass by my side.
Surprisingly, rather than snapping at him, she let out a weary sigh. “So can I.”
And didn’t that sad little response break his heart right in two?
For how many months had Samantha carried this lonely burden, one freighted with so much weight and sorrow? She’d come from the Highlands a sweet, innocent girl, and then life had dealt her one cruel blow after another. Yet, from the depths of despair, she’d pulled herself up, determined to seek justice and to help those who couldn’t help themselves, no matter the personal cost.
And it had cost her indeed. That he knew, because he’d suffered the same sort of loss himself. Right then and there, Braden vowed that he would dowhateverwas necessary to restore Samantha to the life she deserved—one filled with happiness, peace, and love.
Oblivious to the silent revolution reordering his life, she tapped a thoughtful finger on her chin. “Why did they need to study our reactions?”
