Chapter 31 #2
Rosaline leaned back against the squabs and folded her hands.
“Scotland shall be a new adventure,” she declared with determined optimism.
“Fresh air, mountains, dreadful weather, and your niece insisting upon showing you every frog and sheep she discovers.” She laughed lightly.
“Annie considers both equally fascinating.”
Seeing Seraphine's lips twitch despite herself, Rosaline brightened. “There, that is much better. I was beginning to think I had forgotten entirely how to make my sister smile.”
“I fear it may require a miracle,” Seraphine admitted with a weak laugh, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. She gazed out of the carriage window once more. “I simply cannot stop thinking.”
Every road seemed to lead back to Damien. Every silence filled itself with memories of him. She wished desperately that loving him did not hurt quite so much.
Before Rosaline could answer, the carriage lurched violently. The horses whinnied in alarm. The coach ground abruptly to a halt.
“What on earth?” Rosaline gasped, clutching Annie.
Shouts erupted outside. Seraphine hurriedly lifted the leather curtain and looked through the window. Her blood turned to ice.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
Rosaline gripped her arm. “What is it?”
Seraphine swallowed hard. “Highwaymen,” she breathed. “We are being robbed.”
Rosaline gave a frightened cry just as rough voices barked orders outside.
One of the outriders protested before the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked silenced him.
The carriage door was wrenched open with enough force to make it swing against its hinges.
A masked rider pointed a pistol towards the interior.
“Out,” he ordered harshly.
Rosaline looked towards Seraphine in terror.
Seraphine squeezed her sister's trembling hand. “It shall be all right,” she whispered, though she scarcely believed the words herself.
The sisters descended carefully onto the dusty road.
Two mounted men surrounded the carriage, their faces hidden beneath scarves and broad-brimmed hats.
The coachman and a servant already stood nearby with their hands raised.
Seraphine's heart hammered painfully as she counted their attackers.
Two against unarmed travelers. They had no chance.
Then one of the riders reached up and calmly removed the cloth covering his face. Seraphine stared. Rosaline's eyes widened in horror.
“Lord Pemberley,” Rosaline breathed.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Augustus's face.
“I wondered how long it would take one of you to recognize me,” he said smoothly as he dismounted. He dusted imaginary dirt from his sleeves with infuriating composure. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
Seraphine felt revulsion crawl through her. “You,” she said quietly.
Lord Pemberley inclined his head in an exaggerated bow.
“My reputation in England has become... inconvenient,” he remarked conversationally. “I shall be departing for the Continent in a month's time.” His pleasant expression hardened. “Before I leave, however, there remains one small matter of unfinished business.”
Seraphine instinctively stepped in front of her sister and Annie. “You have made your point,” she said firmly. “Leave us in peace.”
The Viscount chuckled. “Oh, I intend to leave Lady Rosaline and her daughter unharmed. But not you.”
The smile vanished entirely. “You and her husband wounded my pride.” His eyes glittered with resentment. “I find revenge remarkably satisfying.”
Seraphine lifted her chin despite the fear clawing at her stomach. “If your quarrel is with my husband,” she said steadily, “then seek him.”
“Oh, I fully intend to.” He took another step forward. “But first... I shall ensure he experiences precisely the same helplessness he forced upon me.”
Rosaline's fingers tightened around Seraphine's arm. “You shall not touch her.”
Lord Pemberley drew a pistol. The movement froze everyone.
“You misunderstand your position,” he said quietly. His gaze never left Seraphine. “You are coming with me.”
“No,” Rosaline cried.
Augustus turned the pistol slightly towards her.
“Or…” he continued in the same calm tone, “you may watch me shoot your sister instead.”
The world seemed to stop. Seraphine looked at Rosaline. Then at the pistol. Then back at Lord Pemberley. A terrible calm settled over her.
“As long as you release my sister and her daughter,” she said, “I shall do as you ask.”
“No!” Rosaline exclaimed, clutching her sleeve. “You cannot!”
Seraphine embraced her quickly. “I must.”
Tears filled Rosaline's eyes. “There has to be another way.”
“There is not.” Seraphine gently pried herself free. She turned towards Augustus. “I am ready.”
Lord Pemberley smiled with quiet satisfaction and mounted his horse before extending a gloved hand. “Wise choice.”
Ignoring every instinct screaming within her, Seraphine accepted his hand and climbed into the saddle before him. She looked back one final time.
Rosaline stood frozen beside the carriage, tears streaming freely as she clutched Annie in her arms.
Augustus dug his heels into the horse. The animal surged forward. Within seconds they disappeared beneath the trees with the second man following close behind.
Branches whipped past as the horse galloped deeper into the woodland. Seraphine forced herself to remain outwardly calm despite the terror threatening to overwhelm her. Lord Pemberley held the reins with one hand while the other remained firmly around her waist to keep her in the saddle.
“You are surprisingly composed,” he observed.
“I have learned not to waste panic.”
He laughed. “How admirable.”
Seraphine lowered her eyes. Her gaze settled upon the reins. An idea formed. Dangerous. Desperate. Perhaps impossible. But better than surrendering. She waited. The horse slowed slightly as the path narrowed.
Now.
Without warning, Seraphine seized the reins with both hands and jerked them sharply sideways.
The startled horse reared violently. Augustus cursed. Both riders were thrown from the saddle. They struck the forest floor in a tangle of limbs and flying leaves. Pain exploded through Seraphine's shoulder as she rolled across the ground.
She scrambled backwards. Lord Pemberley climbed to his feet first; his face twisted with fury.
“You foolish little…”
The thunder of approaching hooves cut him off. Both turned. A black stallion burst through the trees.
Damien.
He rode like a man possessed. His expression was one Seraphine had never seen before, pure, controlled fury.
He launched himself from the saddle before the horse had fully stopped.
“Get away from her.” His voice was low. Deadly.
Augustus drew a pistol, but Damien closed the distance before he could properly aim. With a powerful sweep of his forearm, Damien knocked the weapon aside. It discharged harmlessly into the trees. Lord Pemberley staggered, then lunged with a knife drawn from his boot.
Steel flashed. Damien caught his wrist.
The two men struggled fiercely, boots digging into the forest floor.
“Do something,” Lord Pemberley shouted at his accomplice, who Seraphine had all but forgotten.
Augustus swung wildly, but Damien drove a hard punch into his ribs, forcing the knife from his grasp. Damien grabbed the blade and threw it at the accomplice, nicking his arm.
The man's eyes grew wide, and he turned and rode off. The blade disappeared into the undergrowth. Another blow sent Augustus crashing to one knee.
“You should have left England,” Damien growled.
The Viscount tried to rise. Damien tackled him back to the ground.
Within moments, he had knocked Augustus unconscious. Damien rose, breathing hard. In the distance came the unmistakable sound of more horses approaching.
Constables.
Damien turned immediately to Seraphine. All the fury vanished from his face.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, dropping to one knee beside her.
Unable to answer, Seraphine simply threw her arms around him.
She held him tight and realized that now, she finally felt safe.