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If he was to die today, he’d rather die like this than shot in the back as he fled. Will gathered her in his free arm, pulled her tight against him, and kissed her back. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but they were both breathless when she pulled back.
“That was for luck,” she said, voice hoarse.
“Let’s hope it works. Ready now?”
She gave a firm nod. He could see the fear in her eyes, but she was putting on a brave face. He readied his pistol and murmured, “One.”
He saw her push up to a crouch, wincing slightly as she put weight on her injured leg.
He positioned himself on the incline. “Two.” He pushed up, leveled his pistol, and aimed. “Three. Go!”
He fired, primed the pistol again, and fired again. He didn’t care whether he hit anyone. Will just wanted the enemy to dive for cover. He thought he caught a blur of movement in the woods on the other side of the road, but the blur was all he could see before he slid back down the shallow ditch then out the other side and started running. Emily was ahead of him, but with her skirts and her injury, she wasn’t moving quickly. He easilycaught up to her, put an arm around her waist, and offered his support.
“Almost there,” he said, indicating the hedge. There was a break a few yards away, and he angled for it. She stumbled, caught herself, and pushed harder. Will imagined the feel of the pistol ball slamming into his back. The fear pushed him to run faster, but he couldn’t leave Emily behind. Finally, they neared the break in the hedgerow, and as she slipped through, he risked a glance back. Their attackers were emerging from the wooded area just then. He counted three before he too slipped behind the foliage.
Emily sank down, head bowed, hand clutching her thigh. Will crouched next to her. They couldn’t stay here. It wouldn’t take long for the separatists to reach them. “How bad is it?”
She glanced up at him, tears on her cheeks. “I’m fine. I say we go that way.” She pointed toward a grouping of trees at the far end of the field. It was a long trek and one they’d have to make in the open if the separatists came around the other side of the hedge. But they might just make it if the cutthroats followed cautiously.
“Do you need me to carry you?”
“I’ll make it,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I can see that,” he said. “You’re tougher than I thought.”
“I doubt that. I just don’t want to die out here.” She rose and took a deep breath. “Will you fire again for cover?”
“No. I don’t want them to know where we are if they didn’t see us head this way. If they did, they’ll approach carefully since they won’t know if we’re behind the hedgerow waiting until they’re on the other side.” He took her hand. “Let’s go.”
They ran together, she with something of a lurching gait and he jogging at a pace he hoped she could manage. He ran at an angle, keeping one eye on the field behind them. It seemed miles before they reached the first grouping of trees. Emily was cryingby then, but she simply held his hand tighter and kept running. Finally, they entered the tree line, and he pulled her behind a tree trunk and let her lean against it and catch her breath. He slunk back, searching the field for any sign they’d been pursued. He saw none. Either the assassins had not seen where they headed or they were making their way slowly and carefully. If the latter, it would not take them long to determine where their prey had gone. There weren’t many places to hide.
He backtracked to Emily, but the suggestion that they keep going died on his tongue as soon as he saw her. Blood had seeped through her bandage and formed a long stain on her skirts. Her head was thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut. Her long, silvery blond hair hung in dirty clumps down her back. Will went to her, pulled her into his arms. “Don’t argue with me.”
“I’m not—” He lifted her and put her over his shoulder. She gave a quiet squeal.
“Not a word,” he said and started deeper into the woods. She didn’t say a word, and though her body was rigid at first, eventually she relaxed. She wasn’t heavy, but even a light load grew to be a burden over time. He was panting once he’d walked the first two acres. He didn’t think the woods would be much larger. It was most likely a patch of land between two property lines or left undeveloped so the landowner might use it for hunting. Whatever animals lived here now were hiding as he made his way through the third acre. Finally, he saw where the trees thinned, though they went on to the east for another acre or two.
“Let me put you down for a moment,” he said. He lowered her to the ground, caught his breath, then straightened. “I’ll be right back.”
If she’d looked exhausted before, she was now barely a ghost of her usual self. She was so pale, her eyes too large for her face. Will tried not to think about how much she must be hurting.There was nothing he could do about it at that moment. Instead, he headed for the break in the trees, pushing through low-hanging branches and over tree roots. He’d hated the evasive maneuvers class he'd had to take at The Farm, the name the members of the Royal Saboteurs gave for their training camp. But when he went back, if he ever went back, he’d shake the instructor’s hand. Hell, he’d buy Mr. Fog a bottle of the best wine or sherry or whatever the man wanted. Thank God for those cold, wet hours he’d struggled through the courses. They’d given him the stamina and skills to make it this far.
At the tree line, he slowed and moved carefully. The landscape was unfamiliar, which was fortunate. He’d hate to have walked all that way only to have gone in a circle. The drizzle that had fallen as a mist earlier fell harder now. Under the canopy of the trees, they hadn’t noticed it as much, but if this continued, they’d both be colder and wetter. He still didn’t see any cottages or other dwellings, but he did see something that looked like a small structure.
Cautiously, he left the security of the woods and approached the wooden object. As he grew closer, he saw it appeared to be a cart with a broken wheel. It might have been used for plowing or to bring crops in from this far area of the field. From the state of the thing, it had been sitting here, abandoned, for some time. Will walked around the cart, studied it, then studied the woods he’d left behind. If he could drag it back to Emily, it would be a decent shelter for them until...well, he hadn’t figured that part out yet. But he’d rather be dry and sheltered while he made a plan.
Will dug the shafts out of the soil they’d lodged in, took one in each hand, and, acting as a pack mule, pulled the cart toward the woods. It was slow going as only one wheel moved as it should. But he dragged it into the tree line and then into the shadows before he set the shafts down, wiped his forehead, andtook a breath. He removed his coat, slung it on the seat, then lifted the load again and pulled. It took more than an hour to drag the vehicle back to Emily. He had to push it over tree roots and divert it around fallen logs. But he made it.
She’d most likely heard him coming, and sat staring at him, her back against a large tree. “I thought you’d never come back.”
“I brought you a gift.”
“Thank you?” She eyed the cart behind him suspiciously. It was then he noticed her hair was wet and her dress clung to her. It had begun to rain harder, a fact he hadn’t noticed because he was too busy managing the cart.
“I bring you shelter, my lady.” He gave her a bow, and she shook her head at him, clearly having decided he was dicked in the nob. Well, she’d see, wouldn’t she? He summoned one last bout of strength, pulled the cart near the tree where she was sitting, then turned it over and grunted as he leaned it against another tree. He made a few more adjustments to the angle then stepped back and admired his work. With the shafts sticking out on either side of the tree and the cart turned over and at an angle, a small space beneath the cart would stay dry and protect them from the elements. He rather doubted the separatists would come this way in the rain, but if they did, it would be a good place to fire on them and provide protection from their return fire.
“After you, my lady,” he said.
“Thank you, sir.” Her voice was light, as though she made an enormous effort to play along, but when she tried to rise, she stumbled. Will caught her and helped her limp to the shelter. She slid down under it, moving back to make room for him.
