Chapter Nineteen
H oofbeats thundered in the distance, growing louder. Lora’s heart leaped, but something was wrong. The rhythm was erratic, frantic. She peered through the foliage and froze. A horse galloped wildly down the path, its reins flapping. There was no rider.
A chill ran down her spine. Whose horse was it? Emerging from her hiding place, she stepped onto the path.
“Whoa there,” she called softly, holding out her hands. The horse slowed, its sides heaving as it approached her cautiously.
Just as she reached for the bridle, a shadow shifted at the edge of her vision. Before she could react, a gloved hand clamped firmly over her mouth and stifled her startled gasp.
The highwayman’s grip on her mouth remained firm as he leaned closer. “Not a sound.” His voice was a low growl.
Lora’s heart pounded, but she forced herself to stay calm. After a tense moment, he slowly removed his hand from her mouth but remained intimidatingly close.
“Now, listen carefully.” His tone was muffled but commanding. “You will do exactly as I say, or there will be consequences. Understand?”
She nodded and caught a glimpse of her assailant. He was a tall figure cloaked in black, a mask concealing his features. The highwayman.
“Why are you doing this? What are you after?” Her questions were real, but they were also a delay tactic.
“State secrets can be valuable to so many people. As for royal correspondence, you would be surprised what you can find out and use to your advantage.”
He leaned in, his tone cold and devoid of emotion. “Enough questions. If you wish to remain unharmed.”
She nodded slowly, her mind whirling. How did he approach so silently?
“Mount your horse,” he commanded, gesturing toward Astra.
Swallowing her fear, Lora adjusted her cap, hoping he wouldn’t realize her identity. She mounted Astra, the highwayman mounted his horse. Lora took Astra’s reins. They set off and went deeper into the woods.
They rode in an oppressive silence as the canopy above thickened, casting the surroundings into a dim twilight despite the morning hours. Lora was well aware that the deeper they ventured into the wilderness, the farther she was from the safety of the main path. Lora tried to memorize landmarks, a gnarled oak here, a rocky outcrop there, but the unfamiliar terrain soon became a labyrinth.
After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at an old hunting lodge set among towering pines. The structure was weathered but sturdy, its stone walls covered with ivy. He dismounted and then signaled for her to get down from her horse.
They walked up to the lodge. “Inside,” he ordered, holding the door open. She hesitated briefly but decided compliance was her best option for now. The interior was dim, too dim to take note of any furnishings. The air was filled with the rich scents of aged wood, damp stone, tart citrus, and a smoky aroma. The floorboards creaked underfoot.
“Through there,” he pointed toward a door at the back. She stepped forward, her senses alert. As she entered the small room, she noticed only a simple bed and a window with shutters that were nailed shut, letting in a faint sliver of light that cast eerie shadows on the wall.
He started to close the door.
“Why are you doing this?” She kept her voice steady.
He paused for a moment, his eyes unreadable beneath the mask. “Let’s just say you’re an unexpected complication.”
The villain stood at the doorway. With the light from behind him, all she could see was his menacing silhouette. Slowly, he walked in front of her. “You must be wondering what happens next.” His voice was harsh. His gaze lingered on her, as if reassessing something. Then, with a swift tug, he yanked off her cap. Her breath hitched as her hair tumbled free, cascading down her back. A slow smirk curled his lips. “Well, well.”
“Perhaps you’re hoping for a swift rescue. A valiant duke, perhaps. So brave and trustworthy. Ha, if only you knew the truth. But until then, you’ll have to make do with your surroundings.”
He stepped closer, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “That bed,” he gestured with a nod, “might seem like a place of rest. But it can easily become a place where your worst fears come to life, should you choose not to cooperate.”
Lora’s breath hitched, the insinuation clear and terrifying. He wouldn’t dare. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she lifted her chin and locked eyes with an unwavering, hard glint. She ignored the chill that ran down her spine and commanded her heart to stop pounding. Her thoughts raced, searching for a way out, a strategy to survive.
She could almost hear Rockford’s voice. Fear clouds judgment. Rockford faced danger countless times and remained calm, and so would she. Concentrate on finding the solution rather than dwelling on the obstacle was his strategy. If he could remain composed and fearless, so could she. Lora pushed back the fear that threatened to take over.
The villain chuckled, the sound unsettling. “Rest well, my lady. You’ll need your strength. I enjoy a challenge.”
Before she could respond, he closed the door, the lock clicking into place with an unnerving finality. The room shrank around her, and for a moment, she could only hear the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.
Left alone, she took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment to calm down amid the dust and moldy smell of the room. One breath, then another. Her heart was finally settling into its regular rhythm. That was when she noticed a faint scent, sharp citrus intertwined with a smoky undertone, drifting in the room, defying the stale air.
She blinked several times, adjusting her eyes to the dim light filtering through the shutters. Slowly, she turned, taking in her surroundings, and searched for a way out. The walls were solid logs. With the shutters nailed shut, the only exit was the locked door. Her gaze darted around the small chamber, noting the sparse furnishings—a simple bed draped with a worn woolen blanket.
Lora knelt and peered underneath the bed. Amidst the dust and cobwebs, she spotted a dangling slat. I enjoy a challenge. The words echoed in her head. Her stomach churned at the thought of touching the bed, but she forced herself to reach and grasp the piece of wood. The slat was rough and brittle in her hands. She wiggled it back and forth until it came free.
She stood up with the slat and brought it close to the shuttered window to examine it. A wide smile bloomed as she discovered two rusted nails protruding from the end. It was a small victory, but a victory, nonetheless.
Hefting her weapon, she found it light enough to wield swiftly and sturdy enough to deliver a decent blow if necessary. She wouldn’t be afraid to use it.
She turned her attention to the window. It was tightly nailed closed. She pressed her ear against the wooden shutter, listening intently. The outside world was muffled, a whisper of wind through leaves, the distant caw of a crow, but no voices or footsteps.
A sudden creak from beyond the door made her freeze. Muffled voices drifted in from the room beyond, heated, urgent tones. She pressed her ear against the door, straining to make sense of the indistinct words. The agitation was clear, even if the words weren’t. How many of them are there? she wondered. And what are they planning? She tried again, but the muffled voices remained unclear. Suddenly, a deep, throaty cough cut through the murmur. It was on the other side of the door.
She stepped to the far side of the room, clutching her weapon, her heart pounding. If an opportunity arose, she would not be defenseless. She waited.
Minutes stretched on, the voices in the other room rising and falling. Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps, boots against wooden floors. Another set, their rhythm uneven, creating a syncopated pattern that set her nerves on edge. Doors slammed, and the voices faded one by one until there was silence.
Lora pressed her ear to the door again, straining to detect any movement. Then, the creak of a floorboard nearby sent her heart into her throat. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Someone was still there.
The unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock reached her ears. She stepped back as the door handle slowly turned. She held her weapon behind her back and composed herself just as the door’s lock clicked.
She braced herself, every muscle tense, ready for whatever came next.
The door swung open, the burst of light blinded her. Instinctively, she shielded her eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust. As her vision cleared, she saw a silhouetted figure step inside, his features becoming clearer as he moved closer.
“Lora?” The whisper was filled with urgency and disbelief.
Her eyes widened. “Rockford!” She dropped the makeshift weapon and rushed into his arms, the fear and tension melting away in his embrace. The warmth of his body, the solidity of his presence, grounded her in a way she desperately needed. Without thinking, she tilted her face up, and their lips met in a desperate, fervent kiss.
When they finally parted, Lora rested her head against his chest, listening to his strong, steady heartbeat. Rockford gently cupped her face, his eyes searching hers, silently asking questions.
“I’m fine,” she said, answering his silent question.
He smiled briefly, the hard lines around his eyes softened.
“We can’t stay here.” She looked past him into the main room. “The highwayman, the others, they might return any moment.”
He gave a tight nod. “I doubt they will stay close by. Barrington and the others are searching the area.”
As they emerged from the lodge, the cool night air hit her like a wave, refreshing yet chilling. They headed toward his horse concealed among the trees. Rockford turned to her, his eyes filled with concern. “Were you hurt?”
“No,” she replied, her voice steady, though her mind was anything but calm. The villain’s words, I enjoy a challenge , echoed in her head, a shadow that refused to lift. The fear she had managed to keep at bay resurfaced, gnawing at her.
She took a deep breath, trying to push the haunting memories aside. Fear clouds judgment. She glanced at Rockford. His presence was a lifeline, grounding her, but the anxiety clung to her like a stubborn fog.
“The highwayman knew someone would be along this route, but I don’t think he realized who I was.” Rockford reached for her hand. “Not until…I owe your Amy a new cap,”
Rockford’s hands tightened on hers. His eyes were blazing with anger. “He could have stolen you away, vanished into the night—and I’d have spent the rest of my life searching.” His voice was raw, his grip tightening as if anchoring himself to reality. “I can’t lose you, Lora.”
Lora’s eyes widened. She should have known he would put the pieces together.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly to comfort her and reassure himself that she was truly safe. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?” His voice was muffled against her hair. “You could have been lost to me… to us forever!”
Lora gazed at him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. “Rockford, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. I had to act.”
He shook his head sharply. “Act? By recklessly endangering yourself? Riding out alone, unprotected, what were you thinking?”
She pulled away from him, a spark of defiance flashing in her gaze. “I didn’t act impulsively. Concentrate on finding the solution rather than dwelling on the obstacle. Jeffers was on his way to you, but time was of the essence. My solution was to delay the highwayman until you or Barrington arrived. It was a good plan.”
Rockford’s expression softened slightly at her words, but his frustration remained. “I appreciate your courage, but this was foolhardy. You should have waited—trusted that we would arrive in time.”
Her jaw set stubbornly. “But you didn’t arrive in time.”
His eyes widened, and he drew her closer, searching hers intently. “And what if he had harmed you? Taken you away where I’d never find you? Did you consider what that would do to—” He broke off, his voice strained. “To all of us,” he finished weakly, though his eyes betrayed more.
She sighed softly. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you, or anyone else, being hurt, especially not when I could help prevent it.”
He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Lora, your bravery is unquestionable, but please understand. The thought of you in danger… it terrifies me.”
Her eyes softened. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”
He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying his inner turmoil. “Lora, your bravery is commendable, but you underestimated the risk. You didn’t account for your own safety in the plan. A good strategy includes ensuring that those executing it are safe. That’s why we work in teams and use caution to ensure everyone’s well-being. Just promise me you’ll think twice before putting yourself at risk again.”
She nodded, unable to speak. When had it begun? The admiration, the gratitude, the quiet pull toward him? It had always been there, growing unnoticed, waiting for her to acknowledge it. And now, as she met his gaze, the truth struck her. She loved him. Not just for his courage, but for his kindness, his fierce protectiveness, the way he understood her without words. The realization crashed over her like a wave, undeniable, overwhelming. She loved him deeply, truly, irrevocably.
Rockford helped her mount Astra. They began their journey back, but Lora’s thoughts swirled with the events of the past hours. The warmth of Rockford’s touch lingered on her skin, a reassuring anchor in the sea of chaos.
As they rode in comfortable silence through the familiar landscape, the sense of normalcy was almost jarring. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and the gentle rustling of leaves created a serene backdrop, yet Lora’s mind was anything but calm. Despite her relief, her thoughts kept returning to the highwayman’s words. Unexpected complication. It implied something bigger, something more dangerous afoot. She felt a surge of determination. She couldn’t let this mystery go unsolved. She owed it to herself and to Rockford to uncover the truth.
As they emerged onto the main road, she glanced over at Rockford. “Thank you for finding me,” she said softly.
“Always,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze holding hers.
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, offering her a glimpse into the depth of his feelings. A gentle warmth spread through her. “I suppose we make quite the pair.”
He smiled faintly. “A matched set of stubborn souls.”
They rode on silently, Fallsmith Manor coming into view. They rode down the drive and stopped at the front door.
Rockford swung down from his saddle and stood beside her, his presence comforting as he helped her dismount.
Lora offered him a tired smile. “Thank you, Rockford.”
He cupped her face gently, his eyes searching hers for any sign of lingering fear. “I’ll wait here until you’re inside. Rest. I’ll call on you later.” He left no room for argument.
Lora turned and walked up the steps. Mr. Axbridge opened the door. She paused for a moment, looking back at him. Their eyes met, and a silent promise passed between them in that brief moment. He nodded, then she stepped inside. The door closed softly behind her.
Rockford mounted his horse and began the ride back. The memory of Lora’s fear-stricken face and the relief in her eyes when he rescued her was etched deeply in his mind. He tightened his grip on the reins. He would face any challenge, endure any hardship, and conquer any foe. She was worth every sacrifice, and he vowed never to fail her. With each pounding hoofbeat, his determination solidified. He would face any danger, tear through any obstacle. Nothing, no enemy, no force on earth, would take Lora from him again.