“Then do as I say, and ask questions later. ”
She had no notion of what was happening, but she knew he wasn’t jesting. Sucking in a deep breath, she nodded and slipped from the bed. The room was lit only by the moonlight that entered through the window glass. The heavy length of her hair hung down her back in a thick, swinging braid, and Colin caught it, rubbing it between his fingers.
“Put something on, ” he said. “Quickly. ”
Amelia hurried behind the screen in the corner and disrobed, then slipped the chemise and gown she had worn earlier over her head.
“Hurry!”
“I cannot close the back. I need my abigail. ”
Colin’s hand thrust behind the screen and caught her elbow, tugging her from behind it so that he could drag her to the door.
“My feet are bare!”
“No time, ” he muttered. Opening her bedroom door, he peered out to the hallway.
It was so dark, Amelia could barely see anything. But she heard male voices. “What is going—”
Moving with lightning speed, Colin spun and covered her mouth again, his head shaking violently.
Startled, it took her a moment to understand. Then she nodded her agreement to say nothing.
He stepped out to the hallway with silent steps, her hand in his. Somehow, despite her shoeless state, the floorboard beneath her squeaked, when it hadn’t under Colin’s boots. He froze, as did she. Below them, the voices she had heard were also silent. It felt as if the house were holding its breath. Waiting.
Colin placed his finger to his lips. Then he picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder. What followed was a blur. Suspended upside down, she was disoriented and unable to discern how he managed to carry her from her second-floor bedroom to the lower floor. Then a shout was heard upstairs as she was discovered missing, and pounding feet thundered above them. Colin cursed and ran, jostling her so that her teeth ached and her braid whipped his legs so hard, she feared hurting him. Her arms wrapped around his lean hips, and his pace picked up. They burst out the front door and down the steps.
More shouting. More running. Swords clashed and Miss Pool’s screams pierced the night.
“There she is!” someone shouted.
The ground rushed by beneath her.
“Over here!”
Benny’s voice was music to her ears. Colin altered direction. Lifting her head, she caught a glimpse of pursuers, and then more men intercepted them, some she recognized, others she didn’t. The new additions to the fray bought them precious time, and soon she could not see anyone on their heels.
A moment later she was set on her feet. Wild-eyed, she glanced around to catch her bearings, and found Benny on horseback and Colin mounting the back of another beast.
“Amelia!” He held out one hand to her, the other expertly holding the reins. She set her hand in his, and he dragged her up and over, belly down across his lap. His powerful thighs bunched beneath her as he spurred the horse, and then they were off, galloping through the night.
She hung on for dear life, her stomach heaving with the jolting impacts. But it did not last long. Just as they reached the open road, a shot rang out, echoing through the darkness. Colin jerked and cried out. She screamed as her entire world shifted.
Sliding, falling . . .
Amelia awoke to a hand held over her mouth and a whisper in her ear.
“Shh . . . Someone is in the house.”
Colin’s voice anchored her in the semidarkness. For the space of several heartbeats, the horror and fear from the vivid dream lingered. Then the feel of Colin’s body pressed to her back and his strong arms around her provided much needed comfort.
Awareness seeped in slowly. She noted the elaborate moldings on the ceiling and felt velvet beneath her calf.
They were on the settee in the library. From the look of the fire in the grate—now reduced to mere embers—she had been asleep for at least a couple of hours.
Turning in Colin’s embrace, she faced him and pressed her mouth to his ear. “Who is it?” she whispered.
Colin shook his head, his dark eyes glittering.
Amelia held still, absorbing the tension that gripped his frame. Then she heard it. The sound of a booted foot falling on the parquet floor.
Boots. At this hour.
Her heartbeat leaped from the steady rhythm of slumber to a racing tempo. Unlike her dream, this time it was Colin who was endangered.
He pressed his lips to hers in a quick, hard kiss. Then he slid silently off the edge of the couch. On his knees, he fastened his breeches. He drew his discarded shirtsleeves over his head, then reached for his small sword.
She, too, slid to the floor and belted her robe.
“Secure the door when I leave,” he whispered, pulling his blade free of its scabbard with torturous slowness to avoid making any sound.
Denying him with a shake of her head, Amelia crawled over to where a faint glimmer betrayed the jeweled hilt of his dagger lying atop his waistcoat and coat. The moment her hand wrapped around it, he was behind her.
“No.”
“Trust me.” She turned her head to press her cheek to his.
His jaw clenched. “My sanity hinges on your safety.”
“You think I feel differently about you?” She touched his cheek with a shaking hand, tracing the faint line that marked the spot where a dashing dimple appeared when he was happy. “Rest easy. My sister is the Wintry Widow.”
There was a long pause, his throat working as he considered what she was saying.
“Let me help,” she breathed. “How will we ever move forward together if you always leave me behind?”
She knew how the thought of her in danger tormented him, because she felt likewise about him.
Finally, Colin managed a jerky nod. With a swift kiss to his parted lips, she pulled the dagger free of its sheath.
I love you. The words were spoken soundlessly, his lips against hers.
Amelia lifted his hand and kissed the back.
Colin wrenched away from her and moved
to the door. At some point while she was sleeping, he had closed it. Now, he turned the knob and cracked it just wide enough to see. The well-oiled hinges made no sound.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone. She counted to ten, then slipped out after him.
Bolstered by the feel of the dagger hilt, Amelia crawled along the runner toward the stairs, her senses acute. The sound of the wind blowing and the nocturnal call of a preying owl grounded her to the moment. She breathed shallowly, her emotions suppressed by the instinct to survive and the need to protect Colin. There was a sudden silence, as if the house held its breath, and then she heard the barest hint of sound—a stealthy footfall straight ahead.
She paused. Pushing to her knees, she huddled in the darkness.
A clear shot, just one.
To her right, a movement caught her eye. Holding the blade and aiming the hilt, Amelia prepared to throw. Her arm was steady, her nerves taut but manageable. She had never killed before, but if it became necessary, she would act first and face the consequences later.
Her arm went back, her focus narrowed on a slim shaft of moonlight lying directly across the bottom step.
Although there was no discernable sound of progress, Amelia sensed the intruder moving closer to that tiny beam of light.
Closer . . . closer . . .
Suddenly, Colin lunged. She knew it was him by the white of his shirt, as he arced through the moonlight. He crashed into a body so well concealed by shadows that Amelia had been unable to see the outline of it at her present angle. A loud crash heralded the colliding of the two figures into a breakable object.
She leaped to her feet. Crossing the hallway, she reached the opposite wall, improving the chances of a successful strike.
It was too dark to identify one form or the other. With both figures tangled in a writhing mass of limbs, she could do nothing but pray.
Mercifully, a door opened on the upper floor. She bit back a sob of relief. The light cast by an approaching lantern bearer was sufficient illumination to catch an uplifted blade too short to be Colin’s small sword. Amelia pulled back her arm and threw, putting weight behind the volley with an oft-practiced lunge.