Nicholas threw the unloaded pistol back into the box. He grabbed Helen’s hand and pulled her to the floor. “Quickly. Crouch down between the seats like this,” he snapped, taking the same position. “Hurry! Clasp your hands over your head and brace yourself.”
“For what?”
“For the impact. We’re about to plunge sideways down the ravine.”
ChapterThree
Nicholas St Clair’s strong hands moved over her body, sliding from her ankles to her calves to her thighs. Then his firm fingers captured her chin, tilting her head as his warm breath breezed across her cheek.
Kiss me, she whispered silently, anticipating his taste.
She had repeated those words often in her dreams yet always woke as his mouth hovered an inch from hers, feeling hot and damp and desperate.
“Miss Langley?” came the smooth voice she could identify amid a thousand men. “Helen? Can you hear me?” He muttered a curse when he received no response. “As God is my witness, someone will pay dearly for this.”
She should speak, reassure him, but her mind was hazy, her bones cold as the grave as she lay stretched corpse-like on the ground.
“I—I’ve managed to free the horses, sir,” said the groom in a harried voice. “Spartan has a gash to the flank what might need a stitch, but there ain’t no bones broken, thank the Lord.”
“Has Jenkins regained consciousness?”
“Aye, sir, but he’s got a lump the size of a plum above his left eye, a few whip marks to the cheek, and his ankle hurts like a hound has taken a bite. What of you, sir?”
“Doubtless I’ll have a few bruises, but I’m fine. Here, let Jenkins finish my brandy. It will help dull the pain for an hour or two.”
Helen opened her eyes to see Nicholas giving her groom a silver flask.
The groom gestured to the overturned coach. “Do you think the fellow meant to kill us, sir? He came charging up the flank at breakneck speed and swerved into us without no warning.”
“If he meant to kill us, he would have waited to finish the job. Did you notice the carriage at the turnpike? Were cross words exchanged? Did Jenkins rouse the man into a violent rage?”
“No, sir. The devil came upon us like a wraith in the night. His eyes were as black as Satan’s soul, I tell you. There was no mistaking his wicked intentions.”
Why would anyone want to force their carriage off the road?
It made no sense.
Kneeling so close their thighs touched, Nicholas glanced at her and saw she was awake. “Miss Langley! Thank heavens!” He moved to cup her cheek, but his hand froze an inch from her face. “Are you hurt, in pain? Can you move?”
“I—I am just a little dazed.”
“Forgive me, but might I examine your eyes?”
She nodded, her heart beating a wild rhythm in her chest as he lowered his head and lifted her lids.
Eyes as blue as a tropical sea peered into hers. “Follow my finger,” he said, and she looked left and right as instructed. Then he asked to inspect her ears for traces of blood, his fingers touching her lobes, his skin pressed to her skin. “Do you think you can stand?”
No, her knees would likely buckle from the strain.
“I can try,” she breathed, torn between wanting to throw herself into his arms, but knowing she should maintain some distance.
He came to his feet and brushed grass and twigs from his trousers before offering his hand. “Let me help you.”
His hands were as elegant as his clothes, his fingers long, nails neat. His touch was always gentle, yet the visible veins and the scar on his knuckle conveyed immense strength.
She stared for a few seconds, grateful she wore gloves. Still, that did not stop heat racing up her arm when their palms touched.
“Lean on me if you must,” he said, pulling her to her feet.