“The carriage went to the White Horse on the outskirts of town. There’s another man. Short, stocky with a big mouth on ‘im.”
So Rupert was with Bertram DeLisle after all.
“Well that certainly makes my job easier,” Dominic replied, satisfaction lacing his voice. He nodded for Sanderson to draw alongside.
As they cleared the outskirts of town, Dominic nudged his horse into a faster walk, knowing the other man would keep up.
“Isobel is alive and here,” Dominic whispered softly, unable to keep the disbelief and elation out of his voice as Sanderson drew near.
Although he couldn’t see anyone nearby, he couldn’t risk being overheard. Ignoring his groom’s startled look, Dominic kept his gaze steadily forward, unwilling to show the man the depth of his emotion.
He swallowed hard against the lump lodged in his throat and paused to gather himself. “Davenport has somehow caught up with her as well, but I cannot be certain he saw through the disguise. It is imperative we find Isobel, and take her to Havistock without delay. Before Davenport gets her.”
He quickly described her appearance, each detail clearly enshrined in his memory.
“She headed this way, but I don’t know whether she would have the sense to head to Havistock. Keep a close eye out for her. It is imperative we find her.”
Their search didn’t last long.
“There!” Sanderson slowly reined his mount to a stop, nodding toward the brief flurry of movement deep in the woods, to the left of them. They were no more than a mile outside of town.
“I’ll go after her, she doesn’t know you, and might think you are with Davenport.” Dominic quickly dismounted, throwing his reins toward the older man. He didn’t add that he desperately needed to see for himself that it was indeed her, and not a cruel trick of his imagination. “Take Brutus through this tree line and through the gate at the far end. Wait for us there. Keep your eyes and ears peeled and make sure nobody has followed us,” he warned, jumping over the low slung stone wall and disappearing quickly into the woods without a backward glance
Isobel felt sick. She was unable to stop the trembling in her fingers. Once or twice along the way, she had shaken so badly that she had clumsily dropped her precious supply of bread into the dirt at her feet.
Her heart thumped heavily in her chest with a mixture of elation and fear. She made no attempt to swipe the tears on her cheeks away at the memory of Dominic’s shock, and apparent delight, at seeing her again. She couldn’t understand it. She must look such a fright, she mused considering the past few weeks of nothing but stream water with which to see to her ablutions.
Although she hadn’t been anywhere near a mirror for so long, she knew that she looked nothing like before. She was even dressed as a man, with her breasts tightly bound and her hair cut short. Her baggy clothing hid any remaining hint of her femininity, rendering her practically sexless to anyone who gave her a cursory glance. After several long weeks on the streets, her cheeks had hollowed, and her skin unfashionably bronzed.
How How had he known it was her?
As she stumbled blindly through the undergrowth she became aware of the flurry of movement behind her. A startled glance over her shoulder revealed nothing that she could see, but she distinctly heard twigs snapping, and the distinct sound of a heavy footfall of someone behind her. Heart thumping in her throat, she stopped and slowly turned. If she could summon the energy, she would have run, but all of her waning strength had finally been exhausted by the speed she had been forced to leave the bustling market town. She simply didn’t have the energy left for a flight through the uneven floor of the wooded copse she was in.
Unable to summon the energy to do anything else, she stood on trembling knees, silently watching and waiting for whomever was behind her to appear out of the gloom. Heart pounding, she reminded herself if she was to face death, then she would use every last ounce of strength she had left to keep them from taking her.
Despite her bravado, she stepped back with an instinctive cry of alarm when a tall dark figure emerged silently from the dense line of trees in front of her. Her knees buckled. Fear overwhelmed her, rendering her unable to do anything but emit a low cry of desolation as the dark figure swooped down upon her with menacing speed.
“Isobel,” Dominic whispered softly, rushing forward to sweep her into his arms before she hit the floor. Cursing, he nearly fell over himself when he lifted her clear of the ground with far too much ease. There was very little weight on her with which to struggle.
“Isobel, darling,” Dominic pulled her tightly against his chest, swamped with a depth of emotion that threatened to buckle his knees when she willingly slumped against him.
Carefully pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, he groaned aloud and sank slowly to his knees, relishing the fact that she instinctively sought the comfort of his embrace.
Thin arms quickly stole around his neck, pulling her tighter against him as the reality of his presence sank in.
“Isobel, thank god it is you,” he was unable to fight the raw emotion that brought tears to his eyes.
“Dominic,” Isobel whispered, resting her head wearily upon the superfine wool of his cloak, giving way to the tears that choked her. The thick material did little to hide the solid band of muscle on his shoulder.
Although he belonged to another woman now, she desperately needed this stolen moment of his comforting embrace; the only comfort she had received for a very long time. Burying her face in the warmth of his neck, she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of soap and something quintessentially Dominic.
“Isobel, darling,” Dominic’s warm breath swept gently across her cheek. His fist tightened in her hair, holding her against him tightly while they both succumbed to the emotions tumbling over them.
Several long minutes later, Isobel reluctantly loosened her hold on him and eased backwards to lie cradled in his wonderfully strong arms. Her tear stained gaze locked with his and she watched him draw closer.
His lips were warm and soft as they swept over hers before she could speak. Once, twice they almost trembled as they brushed backward and forward with increasing pressure for several moments before eventually settling more firmly upon hers, his tongue probing deeper, demanding her compliance; seeking confirmation of her
survival, and accepting nothing less than her absolute surrender.