Cold Comfort (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite 5)

“Calm down, remember?” Oliver growled. He looked over her shoulder at the end of the drive visible beside the house. “How long do we have?”

“A matter of minutes. They are half-way down the drive,” she gasped. She tried to calm herself, but terror surged through her and made her physically shake.

“Hide Quick. Get in here. There are some hay bales up in the hay loft. Wedge yourself into a corner and tuck your skirt around you. Make sure nothing is visible. Just hurry up. Get up there and stay perfectly still. Don’t speak no matter what you do.” Oliver hefted her into the hay loft and shoved the ladder up after her. He then hoisted himself up and patted the floor of the hay loft but there was no cover for the manhole. He had to leave it open. With a curse, he dropped to the ground and, by the time the unwelcome visitors cantered into the stable yard, was picking the hoof of his horse again, seemingly unconcerned by the intrusion.

Oliver paused and studied each rider as they entered the stable yard, well aware that he was the object of close scrutiny in return. Without issuing a word of greeting, Oliver ambled casually over the large shotgun propped against the barn door.

“Who are you?” he demanded without preamble.

“You might be able to help us,” Rupert Smidgley began, peering down his thin aquiline nose at Oliver in cold contempt. “Who are you?”

“I own here. What do you want?” Oliver snapped gruffly.

“We want some information.”

“From me.” Oliver’s voice turned dull.

“Have you seen a young, blond haired woman around these parts?” Smidgley continued.

“No.”

Smidgley smirked and looked pointedly at the feminine clothing on the washing line.

“That’s the wife’s,” Oliver informed him.

Smidgley looked pointedly around the empty yard. “Where is she? Might I have a word?”

“With my wife? Whatever for?”

“She might have some information for us,” Smidgley replied smoothly in a polite yet dismissive tone.

“I don’t think so. She barely leaves the house,” Oliver snorted. “What kind of information do you want?”

“I want to know about a blonde woman we have lost. We are looking for her, you see? We want to know where we can find her. Your – wife – might know,” Smidgley replied.

“She isn’t here right now.”

“Oh? That’s odd,” Smidgley smirked at his co-conspirators. “I must go and see the surgeon because I could have sworn that I just saw a woman pegging the washing out. She had blonde hair as well.”

“Must have been your eyesight,” Oliver retorted dismissively. “Now go away. You have no business coming here.”

He stared at the men, and mentally heaved a heavy sigh when two of them dismounted under Smidgley’s command. Oliver cocked his gun and stared at each one.

“Where is she?” Smidgley asked quietly. “You may as well hand her over. We know who you are and that you have her.”

“I have no idea who you mean.” Oliver scratched his ear and prayed that Emmeline was so hidden that what was being said was muffled. The last thing he wanted was for her to give herself over to these thugs in the hope of sparing him. Oliver didn’t think he could stand it on his conscience if anything happened to her. “There is just me here.”

“Search the house,” Smidgley ordered the thug closest to him.

“Take a step near that house and you will damned well drop where you stand. I don’t give a damn who in the Hell you are, but you have no business coming around here like this. Show me your magistrate’s authority and you can search the place. Until then, get the Hell out of here.” Oliver stared hard at the closest thug, almost daring him to take another step.

When the thug turned to look at his boss, Smidgley nodded. The thug immediately set of for the house. Oliver took aim and fired at shot at the man’s leg. The man howled in pain and fell to the floor clutching his now wounded thigh. Blood poured out of the neat gash Oliver had caused, but Oliver barely gave it a second glance. He re-cocked the gun and lifted a commanding brow at the invaders.

“I don’t give a shit who you think you are, but you have no authority to come snooping around here trying to bully me. I have no idea what you want but I don’t have it. Even if I did, you wouldn’t be helping yourself to it. Now get the Hell out of here before I shoot you

r damned horse out from beneath you and drag you the Hell out.” Oliver squinted malevolently at the man on the horse, who continued to stare thoughtfully at him, as if contemplating just leaving.

Oliver doubted he would be that lucky, though. He was right.