Chapter 3 #2
Straightening, Helena ran her palms down her sides. “Well. Thank you. I suppose. But what I actually meant was, why did we have to throw ourselves off the train? It is right over there—we could catch up to it before they leave again.”
Was it her imagination, or was Hunter blushing? Perhaps he was embarrassed to have admitted the whole kissing thing. So when he stomped over to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the train, Helena didn’t fight him.
She thought she heard him breathe a sigh of relief.
“We’re walking away from the train, sweetheart, because there was a man on board who tried to kill ye, do ye remember? And he might have accomplices, who will also try to kill ye, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that happen on my watch!”
Well, now he was talking to her as if she were an infant, something Helena had never been able to stand. “I am not an idiot, Hunter,” she replied in the same tone. “I am aware of the danger the man posed. But if he did have accomplices, they would be captured, the same as him.”
Wouldn’t they?
When Hunter glanced over his shoulder at her, there was a hint of a smile on his face.
Oh, so pleased I can amuse you.
Yet despite her pique, Helena felt a tug of a smile on her own lips.
Irritating man.
After a few moments of huffing after him they reached a hedge, and Hunter pulled her behind it, dropping to a crouch. Only then did her breathing begin to return to normal.
“Helena, that man tried to kill ye—”
“He was trying to kill both of us—or at the very least, he entered our compartment armed. And you do not think he was a common thief?”
Hunter shook his head, his gaze serious. “He kenned we were heading to Islay, and thus likely kenned who ye were. If he kenned that and wanted to kill ye, there was a good reason for it. Can ye think of one?”
She didn’t have to think long. “The competition?”
“Would one of yer competitors want to win this prize badly enough to kill for it?”
“It is difficult to imagine…” Helena shook her head, mind still dazed. “It is not something I would consider.”
Hunter’s lips twitched and he reached out to cup her cheek—no, his fingers went to her hair instead. As she held her breath, he pulled away with a piece of grass pinched between his fingers. Without thinking, her hand rose to check for more straw in her coiffure.
“It’s hard to imagine a lady like ye considering murder, sweetheart.”
Damnation, why did her stomach have to flip like that whenever he called her that ridiculous endearment? At least he still thought her a lady.
Whew.
“Murder….” She blew out a breath. “Amy—she is all alone—”
“She’s a lady on her own, the train guard will take care of her,” Hunter said swiftly, though Helena rather wondered if his own eyes hadn’t been momentarily overcome with concern.
Right. Mister knew how to take care of herself. “It seems surreal. Just a few minutes ago my only concern was what sort of meal to arrange.”
In the distance the train blew its whistle, and Hunter lifted his head, although he couldn’t see over the hedge.
“It was a bit more than a few minutes ago, but aye. And ye did well, Helena, truly. That was scary, but ye followed directions.”
She only bristled slightly. “And now I deserve some explanation.”
He held up a finger imperiously and rose to see over the hedge. She considered smacking aside his finger, telling him he wasn’t in charge of her.
But considering she was sitting in the dirt while a perfectly good train tooted on its way, with the bulk of her luggage and her maid, perhaps her argument didn’t have quite the strength she would’ve liked.
Finally Hunter blew out a breath and straightened, offering her his hand. “We’d better start walking.”
“Back toward Killin?” She allowed him to help her up.
Hunter hefted her bag over his shoulder and didn’t answer. But he turned them both away from the track—away from Killin—and began to walk eastwardly across the field.
“Hunter!” She gathered her skirts and strode after him. “I am not walking through fescue without a significant explanation.”
He shot her a look. “Ye recognized this as fescue?”
“Of course,” she huffed, momentarily distracted. “The sheep love it on Islay. Hunter! Explain!”
His lips twitched, although he slowed long enough to allow her to catch up. “It really chafes ye to no’ ken what’s going on, eh? Ye hate no’ being in control.”
Helena sucked in an offended breath. “Oh dear Lord—you are doing this on purpose? Are you trying to irritate me?”
“Aye,” he drawled, and when she gasped, sent her another smirk. “I prefer an irritated fake wife to a scared fake wife.”
Oh.
Well.
Helena supposed that made a bit of sense. At least, it might once she was once again in a comfortable train compartment, hopefully with a cup of tea in her hands.
Frowning, she huffed again and stepped higher around the grains. “Are we almost to a footpath?”
“Aye, up ahead. Once we’re across we’ll find a bridleway, that’ll lead us to a road, and we’ll head toward Stroken.”
“Stroken?” she repeated. “What’s in Stroken?” She’d heard of the duchy, but had never heard of anything much of import there.
“I ken people there.” He sent her a confident nod. “Good people. We can lie low there.”
Ah, and now they were getting back to the question at hand. “And why exactly do we want to lie low?”
Hunter paused long enough to take her hand in his and tug her toward the path, thank goodness.
At least the walking was a bit easier here.
But despite having to walk single-file, he didn’t drop her hand, his palm warm against hers as he kept it behind him, and she could feel his warmth through her thin glove.
It was more comforting than she expected.
Perhaps that kiss had addled her.
Or the jump from a moving train could have done it!
Oh yes, that too.
“That bastard will eventually come to, aye?” Hunter explained. “And I doubt he’ll eagerly confess that he was trying to kill us when questioned. Which means the authorities will have nae reason to detain him. Which means he and any possible accomplices will be free to search the train for us.”
“But they will not find us.”
“Nay, they’ll assume we’re hiding—”
“Which is what any sensible people would be doing.”
They came to the bridleway and Helena drew even with him in time to see his smile. He didn’t drop her hand, and she didn’t release his either.
Which she wasn’t going to think about right now.
“They’ll assume we went on to Crianlarich as planned,” came Hunter’s calming voice. “They’ll be scouring the stations between here and there, assumin’ we’re hiding out along the railway back there.”
It was beginning to make sense why they were heading eastward. “But we will not be there. We will be in Stroken.”
“Aye, good lass.” Another grin, this one approving. “We’ll be hiding in Stroken, where we have help and support, and more than one knife, and the bastards willnae think to look for us there.”
“But Mister! And Wulfie!”
“Does she have money? All yer trunks are still on board.”
Helena blew out a breath, conceding the point. “She will likely arrange a search for us as well, and when we are not found, she will wait for us with my poor snoogums in Crianlarich.”
“Good.” Hunter nodded approvingly. “Then we dinnae have to worry for either of them, we can focus on our own hides.”
So now they only had to make it to Stroken, wherever it was. “How far is this safe place you know for us to hide out?”
He shrugged, then tipped his head back to study the sky, as if that might help. “Ooof. Two days, more or less.”
“Two…days?” Helena yanked her hand from his. “You expect me to travel two days in the wrong direction? Perhaps I should be relieved little Wulfie is still on the train! How are we getting there?”
“We walk, lass,” he drawled as he hoisted her bag over his shoulder once more. “We’re going to follow the lesser-traveled path, and walk to Stroken.”