Chapter Seven
T he longer it had been snowing, the more frightened Venus became. What if their coach got mired in deep snow in the middle of nowhere? As it was, she could only barely see the road. They had gone miles and miles and more than an hour without seeing a single sign of civilization. The stark winter landscape that passed before them was nothing more than fallow fields, some separated by a hedgerow, all of which were being blanketed with snow.
If the roads became impassable before they reached a village, they could all freeze to death. That prospect might even be worse than becoming Mrs. Donald Shuttlebotham.
After a few hours of silence, she eyed the disgusting man who had abducted her. “Why can you not free my hands? Surely, you’re not afraid I could escape. I’d have to be a complete lunatic to have any desire to leave the moderate warmth of this coach.”
His florid face softened as he moved to sit next to her. “I’m sorry I had to do this to you. Here, I’ll untie.”
She presented her back to him, and he untied the length of rope binding her. He then made no move to return to his seat across the carriage from her. If he thought to initiate any intimacy with her, he was delusional. She promptly plunked herself down opposite and glared at him. He glared back, then she quickly looked away.
By her estimate, it was about four in the afternoon. It had become surprisingly dark, but not so dark that she couldn’t see out of the window. About ten minutes after Shuttlebotham removed her rope, his head dropped, and he began to snore.
She was delighted—especially since his hands were resting in his lap.
She was going to attempt to tie his hands now. She took up the rope and managed to fashion it into a noose. Once she could encircle his hands and tighten it, the knot would hold. He would not be able to remove it. Now, how to quickly encircle his wrists before he could awaken and thwart her?
What did she have to lose? She moved back across the carriage and eased herself beside him. He did not stir. Good. She drew in a breath and gently touched one of his hands. He still didn’t stir. She tucked a portion of the circled rope beneath his hand, then quickly enclosed it around the other hand. His eyes opened.
Then she pulled the noose.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, straightening and directing a murderous glare at her.
“I’m immobilizing you.”
His eyes burned into hers. He leapt toward her. “Untie me!”
“No!” She squiggled away from him.
As if in answer to a prayer, she heard male voices shouting at the coachman. “Stop!”