‘Please do not bring him back here,’ she hissed.
Carlotta began to wonder then if Phillip intended to come back at all. Had he used the man in the woods as an excuse to leave? If so, why? What had he been in the house to do? Had he stolen anything? She hadn’t rummaged through the cupboards to know what they contained so had no idea if anything had disappeared with him. What she did know was that she hadn’t found any way he could have gained entry to the property and that worried her more than anything, partly because she had no idea when he would be back.
‘He can get in here whenever he wants apparently. I can only hope that nobody else can,’ she whispered aloud.
It was only when she had settled in a large chair in the library that Carlotta began to contemplate the man who brought her questions. ‘You must have something to do with those thugs of fathers. You left together. Maybe you have gone somewhere else to have a conversation with them without me seeing you. Maybe you wanted to get in here to find out what this house is like so when you do break in here you know where to find me.’
If he did return with the thugs, Carlotta knew she would never be able to outrun the three of them. The idea that someone like Phillip would betray her made her feel sick, but as much as she found the prospect disturbing, Carlotta knew it was wise to contemplate it.
‘I have to leave now, before he comes back and brings someone with him,’ she whispered.
Her reluctance to leave the house was strong but Carlotta forced herself out of her chair. She made her way to her bed chamber and began to gather her meagre possessions. While she packed she thought about Phillip and what connection he had to the man in the woods. Had the man in the woods hurt Phillip? Or had the man in the woods asked for her help because Phillip was after him and had hurt him?
The thought that she might have handed the man over to Phillip to harm was enough to make Carlotta shake. It was only the mental image of Phillip that made her hesitate to condemn him as brutal enough to inflict injuries on someone. There was something about Phillip that wasn’t like her father, who she knew from experience was brutal. Phillip had been calm and had not done anything overly worrying.
‘Just because he didn’t hurt me doesn’t mean I should trust him. I have to leave before he comes back,’ she muttered.
When she had everything she needed, Carlotta reluctantly donned her shawl and let herself out of the house. It worried her more than she could even comprehend to have to leave. The house had been her sanctuary. Even if she hadn’t been using it to hide from her father, Carlotta loved the house. It was a large, sprawling place battered by the sea winds but resolute in its elegance. It was opulent yet understated like an stoic old lady who was sturdy enough to withstand the test of time.
Leaving was the hardest thing Carlotta had ever done, especially when she opened the back door and saw a large fog bank rolling steadily toward the coast. She had already learnt how fast fog banks could descend the world into an eerie dullness that was frightening. Dare she risk being caught out in it? She had two choices: she could either go to the beach and walk along it now that the tide was out and hope she could get up the cliffs further along the rugged coastline to safety before the sea returned. Or, she could venture back into the woods but head in the opposite direction to
the village, away from the area where the man had accosted her. She knew that she was then heading toward the Bladley Weeks, the place where the thugs had raged the gun battle last night.
But surely the gunmen who had survived the battle had left the area by now.
‘I hope so because there really isn’t anywhere else I can go,’ she sighed.
Squaring her shoulders, Carlotta stared hard at the trees she stomped toward. Everything within her was screaming at her not to leave the house; to turn around and return to the warmth of the fireplace, but she kept walking. Inside, a small voice was asking her if she was really running because of her distrust of Phillip or because of her attraction to him. He was, by far, the most handsome man she had ever met. He was powerful, tall, solid and strong. There was something about him that made her shiver, and it wasn’t because she felt threatened or worried by him. She sensed he was a lethal adversary but also the kind of man who would fight to the death for those he cared about.
‘God, now I am going too far,’ she muttered.
Once in the woods, she found a small trail hidden in the undergrowth. It ran parallel to the jagged cliff edge. While it helped her try to find Bladley Weeks, the fog bank was going to make her journey perilous if the path became difficult to see. Regardless of the danger, Carlotta knew she had to follow it.
‘Not again,’ she breathed a while later when she began to get the distinct feeling that she was no longer alone.
At first she tried to ignore it, but with each passing moment the sensation compelled her to run. She could feel the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and a burning sensation between her shoulders began to build. Carlotta clutched her bag until her fingers ached. It was the only thing she could use to defend herself if anyone tried to grab her. She forced herself to keep going but was eventually forced to stop because the fog bank had reached the coast. Within seconds, the sun was blocked by the thickness. The woods became still and silent as even the wildlife found shelter. The only noise she could hear was the rasp of her own breath. Somewhere behind her, the dull thud of what sounded like a boot breaking the claustrophobic silence made her jump. She spun around but could see nothing except swirling fog. Within that fog though was a dark figure, she was sure of it. As she watched, the fog swirled and parted enough to reveal the hint of a man. It wasn’t Phillip. He was far taller than the man behind her who was also stouter. Thankfully, the man in the fog didn’t see her. He had his back to her but was looking for her, she was sure of it. Carlotta didn’t move until the fog swirled and blocked her stare. She took that as her cue to leave.
Before she could find the path the sound of cracking twigs nearby broke the silence again. She gasped and tried to see where the man was. Her heart pounded as more twigs snapped, this time much closer. Carlotta turned to run only for something to wrap around her ankle. She slammed onto the floor with a heavy thump that stole her breath. Gasping for air, all she could do was stare blindly at the undergrowth before her while listening to the sound of the boots disappearing. When she did find the strength to lift herself upright, Carlotta found a particularly thick strand of bramble clinging to her boot. With an uncharacteristic curse, she released herself and stood up.
‘I must stop being such a goose,’ she hissed before looking for her bag.
Carlotta found it at the base of a tree. She reached out to pick it up only to realise that there was something else shrouded in the fog. It was swinging at head height beside a tree just a few feet away. Stepping toward her bag, she snatched it up and leaned forward to peer through the gloom. At first, her mind refused to focus on why a man’s boots were hanging three feet off the ground. It was only when the fog swirled again that her gaze fell upon the pair of breeches, ample girth, thick chest, and mottled face of the man who had a large fresh scar down one side of his face. One glance of his purpled face, those bloodshot eyes, the foam from his mouth above a body that was hanging lifelessly by the broken neck and still swaying was something that would remain with her for the rest of her life. Carlotta backed away and turned to leave only to slam bodily into something soft and warm but unyielding.
When she opened her mouth to scream, Phillip slammed a large hand over her mouth and scowled heavily at her. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered: ’Shut up. Did you see him?’
Carlotta blinked owlishly at him and stared at him with wide eyes. A shiver swept through her, but she had no idea what caused it. All she could think about was that he was there, before her, holding her upright: Phillip.
Phillip had never seen anything as pretty as her unusually long lashes all damp and wet and cupping her large, revealing eyes. It took effort to ignore the limpid stare she was giving him and focus on what was going on around them. ‘Don’t make any noise. He heard you and tried to find you but missed you by about six feet. Don’t move.’
‘Do you know him?’ she whispered.
‘No, I don’t,’ Phillip replied. ‘I thought he was one of the thugs after you.’
‘Why would he hang himself?’ Carlotta frowned.
Phillip froze and snapped out of his thoughts. ‘What?’ His scowl deepened at the confusion on her face.
‘Him.’ She turned and pointed to a tree.