Now, he wished he had. If he’d gone there, he’d have a better lay of the land. He’d know how to get there ahead of them and would be able to lie in wait for Cecil rather than try to sneak up on him. By not listening to Polly, he’d inadvertently given Cecil an advantage that the other man meant to exploit.
Using the variations in the terrain—large rocks, trees, knolls—Oliver followed and prayed that he’d be able to keep Polly safe.
ELEVEN
December 19th, just before dawn…
By the time they reached the stone circle, Polly’s teeth were chattering. She shivered so violently beneath her cloak that it was a miracle she had not dropped the knife—or worse, cut off her numb finger rather than pricking it with the knife to leave her trail for Oliver. Keeping her movements concealed beneath the cloak had not been easy.
But she’d spared a single glance over her shoulder and knew that her efforts had been worthwhile. She’d seen movement at the edge of the small barn. Oliver was following them from a safe distance—if there was such a thing. He was far enough away that even if Cecil spotted him, he’d never be able to shoot from that distance with any degree of accuracy. With any luck, he would not notice him at all until Oliver reached the tree line and would have suitable cover.
“Walk faster, damn you!” Cecil snapped. “I want to reach the circle by dawn.”
“What do you think this is going to do for you, Cecil? The stone circle is a mystical place, but it cannot grant you anything. It cannot change your god-given abilities,” she said softly. If she could keep him talking perhaps it would mask any noise that Oliver might make as he got closer to them.
“You do not know that. You’ve certainly managed to increase the accuracy of your visions and premonitions since you’ve been here,” he snapped.
“Yes. Because I’ve grown older, because I’ve become better able to understand them. It has nothing to do with the circle!”
“You don’t know that!” he shouted, spittle flying from his lips. “It has to work. It has to!”
“You’ve lost everything, haven’t you?” It all made sense to her then. He’d amassed a fortune by using the funds he and his parents had swindled from Claymore. That money had been his start. But he’d done it by taking incredible risks and investing more and more without keeping anything set aside for catastrophes.
“Not yet. I just need more time. There will be a strike at the mine… I know it. I’ve seen it. I just need to stave off the creditors until then,” he admitted. “And for that, Polly, I need you. I know the way it works. It’s what your mother told me years ago… that when she married your father she was suddenly overwhelmed with the same knowing that he possessed. If you become my wife, with the abilities I have, and the abilities that marriage will grant me—”
“No, Cecil. That wasn’t how it worked, at all,” Polly said. She could see it clearly now. She knew how Cecil would die and she knew that it would be by his own hand. Her voice was gentle as she explained, “Any ability that my mother developed was a result of the connection she and my father shared—a connection of their souls. Not their bodies. Not their names on a register. It had nothing to do with being married… it had to do with being in love. That will never happen for us. The more you try to force it the worse things will become. If there is one thing that I have learned, it’s that using abilities such as the ones we have for selfish reason… well, that comes with a price, Cecil, and I very much fear that you are paying it now.”
“That’s not it,” he bellowed. “That is not it, Polly. I refuse to accept that. Why would I have these gifts if I was not meant to use them? And do not dare tell me it is to help others. That sort of drivel is fine for you, but it is not how the world operates for men! We must be strong and firm. We must take what we want in this world and that is what I have done! That is what I will continue to do.”
At that moment, he lunged at her. His hand closed about her wrist, digging in and twisting it painfully. “Get moving!”
Polly stumbled forward, the knife falling from her hand and embedding itself in the snow, hilt up. Cecil’s gaze landed on the weapon. “You sneaking, bitch!”
“You are abducting me, Cecil. It’s hardly expected that I’d be cooperative,” she snapped back. “Let me go!”
Cecil yanked her wrist forward, turning her hand over to see the cut on her fingertip that still oozed blood. Then he glanced behind them, noting the faint pink spots in the snow. The shriek of rage that escaped him simply roared through the trees. It set everything around them trembling, or perhaps that was just what it felt like to Polly as he shoved her to the ground and raised his pistol. He never had a chance to fire. A shot rang out and Cecil fell to the ground clutching his hand. His pistol fell to the ground, and the wooden hilt splintered and covered with blood.
Oliver emerged from the trees behind them. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Polly answered, reaching forward and snatching the ruined remnants of the pistol out of Cecil’s reach. Then she scrambled back, getting to her feet quickly. “I’m quite alright… and so very, very glad to see you.”
“You will not come back to the house,” Oliver said, addressing Cecil directly. “And if I see you near her again, I will kill you.”
Oliver reached for her, taking her hand and pulling her behind him. Then he walked them backward away from Cecil, toward the warmth and safety of Mansford Hall.
* * *
Oliver had felthis life literally flash before his eyes when Cecil had raised the pistol, pointing at Polly. He’d fired at Cecil on instinct, compelled to protect her. Now, as they made their way back to the house, the morning sun was just over the rise. It lit the glossy snow with a dozen different colors. But he could only see her.
They hadn’t even reached the small barn when he simply pulled her to him, holding her so tightly that it was a miracle she could breathe.
“I’m fine. I promise. I’m completely unharmed,” she insisted.
He lifted her hand, her fingertip bruised and bloodied. Bruises already formed on her wrist. “Not entirely.”
“Only a scratch,” she said. “And I did it to myself so you’d be able to find me.”
“If he ever comes near you again—”
