Читать книгу A Treacherous Proposition - Patricia Rowell Frances - Страница 13

Alone in the dark again, Diana braced herself against the jolting of the carriage as they rattled through the night. Thank goodness the children had fallen asleep. They had been so excited by the prospect of running away in the night that she’d thought they never would. Dressed in their black clothes, she could not see them, but could perceive their presence only by their soft breaths, the dim lightness of their little faces and the warmth of Bytham’s head resting on her lap.

At Vincent’s request she had also donned a black pelisse. Clearly he hoped to make them invisible—but to whom? They had seen no sign of pursuit since they had hidden in the trees the night before. And who was to say the coach that had passed them had any interest in them?

But on the other hand, who could say it had not?

The problem that most occupied her thoughts, however, was the question of why Mrs. Biggleswade had thought she’d needed help to escape Vincent. And that he had beaten her. What experience had they of him that would cause them to suspect that? Perhaps the rumors she had heard of him were true. Had she simply traded one danger for a greater one?

That was difficult for her to believe in light of the courtesy he showed her—even with the perplexing gaze he occasionally bestowed on her. But that he had motives about which she knew nothing, she had no doubt. Dear God, what a tangle! How was she to ever get herself and her dear ones clear of it?

A sudden thump drew her attention to the window. She gasped as a pair of booted legs rested for a moment in the opening then slithered forward into the carriage. A moment later the rest of Vincent followed, whispering, “It is only I.”

Stilling her startled heart with a hand to her chest, she slid over to make room, and he sat beside her on the seat. “You frightened me.”

“Forgive me. I didn’t want to take time to stop. We are on the main pike. It would be better to stay to the back roads, but I fear we would still be on them this time next month if we did. We should be in Leicestershire by morning. Is all well with you?”

His angular profile, barely visible against the window, turned toward her. She could feel his breath against her cheek where they were crowded together on the seat, and suddenly Diana became aware of the warmth of his thigh pressed against hers. She drew in a sharp breath and his smoky, masculine scent welled up in her nostrils. Oh, my!

“I—I…” For a moment she could not remember what he had asked. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine. I only find it a little tiresome to be riding alone in the dark.”

She tried to move away from him a little, but a lurch of the coach rocked her back against him. He slipped a hand behind her, gripping her shoulder to steady her. “Damn these ruts!”

A deeper hole rolled them back the other way. Vincent grasped the handhold and pulled her against him to prevent her falling onto Bytham. In the next heartbeat it became very quiet in the carriage. Both of them had stopped breathing. The road leveled out and Diana found herself looking up into the shadows of his face. They sat thus for several heartbeats, his face coming nearer and nearer. At last she heard a strangled whisper.

“No.”

And he hastily left the coach by the same means he had used to enter it.

As they passed through the crossroads, the hair on the back of Vincent’s neck lifted. He signaled Throckmorton to pause and considered his choices. Which way would a pursuer expect him to go?

If the pursuer did not already know.

The certainty that he was being watched grew in Vincent. Had he been on the watch for someone, he would pay close attention to the crossroads. Very close attention.

“Which way, me lord?” Throckmorton peered into the darkness uneasily.

“I don’t think it matters. Don’t look about too hard. Just drive on for a bit.”

Throckmorton flicked the reins and headed down the westernmost lane. Vincent climbed onto the roof of the coach and stretched his long frame out between the trunks, watching their back road for several minutes. The moon having set, he saw nothing in the faint starlight. Nor did he hear anything.

But the prickles along the nape of his neck refused to abate.

He returned to the box. “Pull over to the edge of the road.”

Throckmorton complied and Vincent descended and opened the door. “Diana, I want you three to get out of the carriage for a little while. Can you manage?”

“I suppose so.” He could hear the puzzlement in her voice. “But what about the children? They are both asleep.”

“We will carry them.” He beckoned to Throckmorton. “Take Selena. I’ll carry Bytham.”

“But…why?” Diana clasped his shoulder to anchor herself as she climbed out. “Won’t it seem odd if someone sees the coach sitting here empty?”

“If their intentions are innocent, they will think no more of it than that the driver is answering a call of nature. If their intentions are otherwise, we will be ready for them.” Vincent ushered her away from the road, up the bank and through the smaller trees, gripping her arm to help her up the slope. Throckmorton scrambled after them easily, Selena’s weight appearing to bother him not at all.

When he found a huge oak tree, Vincent pulled Diana behind it. He kicked away what debris he could and looked about for unfriendly residents. A futile exercise. How would he see any small creature, friendly or otherwise, in the shadows of the woods? He had no choice but to lay Bytham on the ground and hope that nothing bit him. Throckmorton followed suit, propping Selena against the tree.