Yes. Let’s.
She’d run again. Maybe even make an escape in the curricle. Maybe the driver was still there. Maybe she could plead with him.
The man holding her swore. She felt him stiffen.
“Move. Now,” the other man ordered.
Fighting to lift her head, she gasped.
Duke.
She might have screamed his name, though she couldn’t be certain. The fast pace knocked the air from her lungs and stole the sound from her voice. Pounding hooves and the creak of leather encompassed her world. Cold air nipped at her face. She swallowed hard and struggled to lift her head in search of Duke.
He followed on horseback, moving so fast she would not have been able to recognize him had it not been for his lack of a hat. Hope flourished through her chest. She tightened every muscle. Who knew what he intended but she would be ready to act.
He neared, so close she swore if she was able to push away from the man’s hold, she might even be able to fling herself into his arms. He shouted something, though she could not make out the words properly. The distance widened.
The other man slowed to come up beside Duke. The three riders rode alongside one another across the field, Duke in the middle. He was surrounded. She glanced ahead to spy the gates of the graveyard ahead. They’d have to slow soon.
Duke neared again. He called her name. She only realized his intention as he leaped from the horse. Gripping the saddle with her bound hands, she closed her eyes, waited for the impact.
The pressure from her back released and she was pulled sideways. A boot smacked her in the back of her head, bringing sparks to her vision. She remained draped over the horse.
But Duke was gone. And her captor.
Ignoring the ache in her head, she fumbled to find the reins. The horse continued on, likely startled by what had just occurred. They’d end up in a ditch or with her tossed into a hedge soon.
Leather greeted her fingertips, and she gripped it gratefully then pulled as hard as she could. The animal faltered, slowing briefly. She had little choice. Now was her only chance. She shoved up and away with both hands, using all her strength to fling herself backward.
The unforgiving ground sent a shaft of pain through her spine. Violet rolled onto her side with a groan. In the distance, she spied Duke and her captor tussling in the grass. She twisted her head and drew in a painful breath at the sound of approaching hooves. Lifting her gaze all the way up the length of the horse, she met the gaze of the other man.
With a gulp, she realized she’d probably made his job easier. Any fight she had left in her had vanished with the fall from the horse.
∞∞∞
Duke scarcely saw the man in front of him. Scarcely recalled the desire for revenge. This man had left him with broken ribs and bruises that took over a week to heal. He’d held him at gunpoint and likely had a hand in taking his father too.
None of that mattered when he saw the other man approach Violet on horseback. From the corner of his eye, he spied her prone on the ground. The man peered down at her and bared his teeth in a sinister smile then dismounted and approached her slowly, like a hunter toying with its pray. She scrabbled backward, her hands digging into the ground. He had her cornered.
Teeth gritted, Duke steeled his determination. He stared down the man with the gold tooth. There was no way he was letting Violet be taken again.
He moved quickly, head down, shoulder aimed for the man’s gut. His opponent sucked in a surprised gasp as Duke’s body slammed into him. They hit the floor with force and Duke wagered he’d returned the favor of those broken ribs. The man’s breaths rasped in his throat as he issued a groan of pain.
Duke glanced up. Violet’s captor continued to stalk her feeble escape. A chill raced through him. They wanted Violet to get to him. But now they had him. And she was of no use.
He struck out, one heavy punch to the face, making bone break and blood well from the man’s nose. One more hit to the head and gold-tooth was down and of no more bother. Duke had exacted his revenge, but it brought little satisfaction.
He rushed to his feet and sprinted to Violet, placing his body between the man and her as he gripped her arms. “Get up, Vi,” he urged.
She peered at him, dazed. He ignored the man. Let him strike out, let him do what he wished. They wouldn’t kill him yet—not if their boss still wanted him as a last attempt at saving his father’s life.
“Get up,” he repeated, hauling her to her feet with both hands. She wavered in his hold.
“Duke!” She looked over his shoulder, her eyes wide.
Duke spun, urging Violet behind him, and faced down the end of a pistol. He followed the length of the man’s arm, noting the fine cut of a wool coat. Understanding dawned. No wonder he had not been able to catch up with them as quickly as he’d hoped. His quarry’s mounts were not quite as fine as the earl’s horses but were hardly the tired workhorses he’d anticipated.
“Doyle,” he said.