Chapter One #2
That they were acquainted was obvious. The woman with the babe was not afraid of the lass.
Their difference in coloring, face, and form suggested they were not related.
’Twas obvious by the way the lass was protecting the woman and child that kidnapping could be ruled out.
His best guess was that they were on the run—but from what or whom?
Mayhap the young mother was escaping an intolerable marriage.
Then again, the question of whether or not she was married prodded him to be extra cautious.
He’d best not frighten the new mother. She could have a weapon concealed on her person.
Fire seared through his flesh where he’d been wounded.
Digging deep into his reserves of control, he drew in a deep breath and ignored the pain.
Blast it all, there was no time to debate.
’Twas time to act! “Get back inside the carriage and out of the chill of the morning air. ’Tisn’t good for yerself or yer babe.
I need to have a quick word with this one here. ”
The young mother hesitated. “Oh, but—”
“I’ll be taking the both of ye to Summerfield Chase. Ye’ll be safe there and cared for by the baron and baroness’s staff. There will be a fire to warm yerselves, and a hot meal to fill yer empty bellies. The cook has a bottomless teapot and an endless supply of scones and teacakes.”
The wraithlike woman stiffened at the name of the baron’s home. There was definitely a connection. Whether either of these females were connected to the baron, or possibly to someone who worked for the baron, he did not know, but he would find out.
Flaherty dragged the termagant he still had a hold of with him and approached the carriage.
“Me name’s Flaherty—Dillon Flaherty. I’m one of the Duke of Wyndmere’s private guard stationed at Summerfield Chase, guarding the duke’s sister Lady Phoebe and her husband, Baron Marcus Summerfield.
Ye’ll be safe with me. Ye have me word of honor, no harm will come to yerself or yer babe as long as ye’re under me protection. ”
The soft expression on the woman’s face hardened. She stared at the tight hold he had on the shooter and demanded, “What about Pippa?”
Flaherty was right—they were going to be trouble! “I’ll be protecting all three of ye, but we need to move swiftly to get yerself and yer babe out of the chill. With the baroness and two of the guards’ wives in varying stages of pregnancy living at Summerfield Chase, ye’ll not lack for company.”
When her expression softened, he said, “May I ask yer name, and that of yer babe, so I can introduce the three of ye to his lordship and her ladyship? They love children. The proof of that is the twins Percy and Phineas. ’Tis a long story, but the short of it is they are cousins to one of the other guards’ wives and have been taken in by Summerfield. ”
The pair exchanged a glance, but remained stubbornly silent. He had to reassure them to get them moving. “Before ye start to worry, ye have no reason to be fearful of the baron and baroness, or anyone else living on the estate.”
They shared a telling look. Flaherty sensed they were already acquainted with someone who worked for the baron. Forewarned, he was no longer concerned. He would find out soon enough.
“Go ahead, Millie,” the shooter urged. “Tell him.”
Flaherty chuckled, then sucked in a breath. It hurt to laugh. “Ye just did, lass.”
“That’s her nickname. Go ahead, tell him,” the outspoken lass—Pippa, was it?—urged.
“Millicent Haybrook Trentchester, and this is our”—the woman’s voice wavered, and she closed her eyes for a moment before opening them to continue—“my son, Roarke.”
“’Tis a pleasure, Miss—”
“It’s Mrs.,” Pippa corrected him.
He turned to meet Mrs. Trentchester’s troubled gaze. “Forgive me, and begging yer pardon for me question, but are ye running from Mr. Trentchester?”
“No. Captain Trentchester is dead.”
The woman’s pain was palpable. “I’m sorry for yer loss.”
Again Pippa spoke up for her friend. “Her husband Roarke gave his life for the Crown.”
Flaherty frowned at the outspoken woman.
“I can see how ye earned yer nickname. Ye keep piping up when it isn’t yer turn.
” When she parted her full lips to speak, he raised a hand and had to bite back a groan.
Pain, accompanied by telltale warmth, had his cambric shirt sticking to his waistcoat.
He’d have to have his injury taken care of soon.
“We need to be moving. ’Tisn’t healthy for little Roarke, nor yerselves, to be out in the damp. Here’s what I need ye to do, Mrs. Trentchester. Stay tucked inside the carriage until I fetch ye.” When she did as he asked, he turned to the lass. “Do ye ride?”
“Of course! I’ll have you know—”
“Tell me later. For expediency’s sake, and because I’m having a wee bit of trouble lifting me left arm”—he paused to glare at Pippa—“I need yer help unhitching the team. Is there more tack stored beneath the coachman’s seat?”
Startled by the question, the lass paused to consider. “I did not check before we made our esc—er…before we left. There should be. Shall I look?”
“Aye.” Flaherty glanced over his shoulder, relieved that the coach door was closed.
Pursing his lips, he whistled softly, alerting his horse that he needed him.
He was moving slower, an indication that his wound could be more serious than he’d thought.
He sent up a silent prayer for his strength to hold out long enough to deliver the lasses and the babe to the safety of Summerfield Chase.
The gelding nudged him gently in the shoulder as if the animal knew he was injured. Flaherty led his horse over to where the outspoken lass was unhitching the carriage horses. He placed the weapon he’d taken from her on the coachman’s seat. “We’ll bring their traces with us.”
The little bit of a thing spun around, lifted her chin, and glared him. Before she could fire another round of questions he didn’t have the time to answer, he asked, “Was yer blunderbuss loaded with lead balls or gravel?”
She squared her shoulders and drew in a deep breath, and the top button of her coat opened, revealing a worn lawn shirt.
The fabric left nothing to the imagination and hugged her curvaceous form.
How had he thought her shapeless? God Almighty, but the lass was well endowed, to the point where he blinked twice before he could tear his gaze away from her bounteous breasts.
“Lead balls, not gravel, and mind your eyes, Flaherty, or I’ll be forced to reload and shoot you again!”
Irritated beyond belief, he didn’t curb his annoyance when he replied, “Ye’re no longer armed and ’twas yer grip on yer weapon, and the impact of falling on yer bottom, that fired the blunderbuss.”
Her eyes rounded in shock, and Flaherty realized too late that he should not have mentioned that particular part of her anatomy. He stared at the heavens for a moment, then sighed. “If I beg yer pardon, will ye move yer ar—self and get on that horse’s back? We need to leave now!”
Her horrified gasp had him mentally kicking himself.
Too late, she’d already realized he had been about to say her arse…
but he didn’t. Thank God most of his senses were still intact—he hadn’t mentioned the fact that it was tantalizingly shapely.
Nor would he—ever! The lass would be the death of him long before he got around to mentioning it, or the fact that her beautiful breasts had rendered him momentarily speechless.
“I’m not certain that I can trust you, but you haven’t gone for my throat, even after my grandfather’s blunderbuss went off.”
He kept his expression neutral. “Ye’ll have to take that chance if we’re to get Mrs. Trentchester and her babe to the warmth and safety of Summerfield Chase.”
She hesitated, then reached into her deep coat pocket, withdrew a small leather bag that jingled, and pushed it toward him. “Here. Take it as payment—it’s all we have.”
Flaherty bristled as the insult went deep. “I never have been, and never will be, tempted by a bag of coin. Put that back in yer pocket, or I’ll change me mind and leave ye behind.”
“What about Millie and her babe?”
“She’s doing as I’ve asked, and is inside the coach while we get these horses ready to move. I’ll be taking her and her babe to safety at the manor house. Now then, are ye ready to cooperate?”
Pippa jammed the pouch into her pocket and glared at him.
Without another word, he stood next to one of the horses, bent down, and laced his fingers. “Step on me hand. I’ll give ye a boost.” When she didn’t move fast enough, he ordered her, “Mount up!”
“You cannot expect me to ride without a sidesaddle.”
He straightened and had to bite back a groan. “Bloody hell, woman! What part of ‘we need to leave immediately’ did ye not understand?”
Her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. “What part of ‘I cannot ride without a saddle’ did you not understand?”
The creak of hinges had them both turning to stare at the carriage.
Millie leaned out of the door and rasped, “Pippa, please let Mr. Flaherty help you mount. You may be short, but you and I both know you’re fully capable of riding bareback.
We used to ride without saddles through the meadow until your father and mine caught us and tried to put a stop to it a few years ago. ”
Pippa’s shoulders slumped. “When they caught us again, they demanded we stop acting like hellions, and warned they’d never find suitable husbands for us.
” Tears welled in the young mother’s eyes and spilled over, and her feisty protectress was immediately contrite.
“Forgive me for speaking of husbands, Millie. I know how much you miss Roarke—while I, on the other hand…” As if she sensed she’d nearly revealed too much, Pippa lowered her voice and said, “I miss him too. He was the best of men.”