Chasing Eliza (Cavendish Mysteries 3)

Edward lurched to his feet and thumped on the door to the cabin. There was a sudden scurry within the leaves outside. He waited for several moments before resuming his position beside her. Blessed silence fell over them once again.

“Thank you.” Eliza whispered, tugging her knees into her chest and holding on tight. She wished Edward would hold her tightly, but daren’t ask him. She glanced across at his stern face, barely visible through the gloom.

In the darkness of the shadows, his face looked menacing. All dark, shadowy dips and hollows. So unlike the Edward she had become so familiar with, she shuddered and rested her forehead against her knees, willing the dawn to come.

It felt an indeterminable age before the first shafts of light began to chase the impenetrable darkness away. Edward’s face lost some of its shadows and thankfully began to take on a healthier, more familiar glow. Eliza sighed with relief, wondering what the new day would bring.

She jumped as a loud crack of wood broke the morning air.

Edward suddenly jerked upright and frowned at her. After several moments, another smaller crackle of wood followed by rustling of leaves sounded louder. Whatever was moving out there was big, heavy and getting nearer.

Jumping to his feet, Edward slid his sword off the floor beside him, his eyes locked firmly on the door. Eliza stood and moved to his back, clutching at the shirt on his back as they sidled towards the door.

Edward paused and turned towards her, a dark scowl on his face. He lifted a finger to his lips and pushed her towards the horses. Eliza shook her head, refusing to be parted from him, even if it was only a few feet.

His deep put-upon sigh was galling for Eliza. She wasn’t a wilting wallflower by any stretch of the imagination, but at that moment needed his reassurance. Clearly she was being a pesky nuisance. His attitude was galling. She frowned at him, with hurt filled eyes for several moments before turning to do as he bade only to find her cloak tugged.

When she turned, she saw the scabbard handle being held out to her and glanced at him in horror. Instinctively she shook her head, only for him to shake his and glare at her in silent warning. Slowly she took the heavy weight in her hand with a shudder, hoping she wouldn’t have cause to need it. She had no intention of using it, but the unfamiliar feel of it in her hand was vaguely reassuring.

Standing silently between the two horses, Eliza watched as Edward slowly lifted the latch on the door and tugged its squeaking weight inwards.

Within seconds of daylight flooding the room, chaos ensued.

A scruffy-looking man who was taller than Edward, lunged through the door with a feral snarl of intent on his face. Eliza caught sight of the wicked looking scabbard

that was thrust toward Edward before her attention was caught by a second man immediately behind the first.

At first he didn’t see her in between the larger bulk of the horses, but her gasp of fear for Edward caught his attention. He grinned evilly as he moved towards her. Eliza knew there was nowhere she could go. As he reached out to grab her, Eliza instinctively wrenched away only for him to lunge forwards. Instinctively she lifted the hand holding the scabbard and watched, as though from a distance, as the man looked at her in astonishment for several long seconds. Eventually he broke eye contact and looked blankly down at his chest. The long handle of the scabbard stuck out starkly against his grubby shirt, a steady flow of blood turning the brownish colour black.

Eliza felt sick. She was vaguely aware of the thumps coming from the corner of the room and watched in frozen horror as the man before her staggered backwards, pulling himself off the wicked blade that would prove to bring about his demise. Within seconds he slumped to the floor in a bloodied heap.

Bile rose in her throat and she watched as a third man burst through the door. She watched him glance down towards the wicked blood soaked blade she held and hesitate. That hesitation was enough to give Edward the edge. Quickly he stepped over the heap on the floor and lunged towards the latest arrival.

As she watched him trade blows with the man before him, Eliza wondered how Edward did it. His face was calm and stolid. The lack of emotion bespoke a lethal intent that made her shiver. It was a side to him she had never seen before. Although it should have repulsed her, it made her feel intensely protective and even proud. This man, this warrior, was fighting for her; to protect her and keep her safe from Scraggan and his thugs.

She realised at that moment just what he was sacrificing for her. He was a Lord of the realm. An entitled man of noble blood who had significant wealth and undoubtedly family expectations placed upon him. He should be at home, setting up his estates and building the foundations for his future, not sleeping in a desolate shack in the middle of nowhere, fighting of a bloodthirsty band of ruthless pirates.

Snapping out of her horrified trance, she watched as yet another man appeared in the doorway. Edward was still engrossed in his new skirmish and hadn’t yet seen the new arrival. Eliza immediately moved to the side of her horse and mounted. Within seconds, scabbard pointed, she kicked her horse forwards blocking the space between Edward and the new arrival. Kicking out with her booted heel, watched as the big man fell to the ground with a thud. Grabbing hold of Edward’s horse, she led the horses outside and scanned the area for anyone else. Not that she would be able to do anything against a man with a cutlass, but she could at least warn Edward.

Within seconds he appeared, dishevelled and bleeding from his lip beside her.

“Let’s go.” He snapped, swinging his horse around. Unsure what he had planned, Eliza followed, keeping as close to his horse as possible. She watched as Edward took off through the woods, clearly expecting her to follow.

A natural haven that was teeming with wildlife; the ground beneath was rough and uneven, littered with fallen branches, twigs and foliage. Eliza found the fast gallop was difficult to sustain and unfortunately despite trying, so did her horse. With a loud squeal, her horse tripped over a hidden branch and fell onto the floor with a heavy thud. The steep bank beside them was too much for the frightened, unbalanced horse to avoid and it began to roll downwards towards the stream in a tangle of legs. Eliza didn’t have time to scream as the heavy weight of the horse rolled over her, pushing her deep into the soft forest floor. It landed at the bottom of the stream with a splash and didn’t get up again.

Eliza lay spread-eagled on the floor, the pain in her ribs and arm unbearable for several moments as she waited for her breath to return. Stars danced remorselessly before her eyes as she gazed upwards at the dark thunder clouds high above. As she lay motionless, she felt the steady splash of raindrops on her face as the drizzle began to fall.

She wondered briefly just how much worse the day could get.

Silence descended and she slowly turned her head to study the area around her. The stream at the base of the grass bank was shallow and trickling slowly, its cheery tinkling in stark contrast to the heavy rumbling of the skies above. Even the birds had fallen silent, leaving the only other sounds to be the rustling of the leaves in the trees and the occasional whisper of the winds.

“Eliza?” Edward’s voice was a vague echo through the silence.

She didn’t know how many of Scraggan’s men were nearby. She had been so intent on getting through the woods and away from the assailants she hadn’t dared glance backwards, instead assuming there were more, close behind. She glanced down at her now still horse and felt a pang of remorse. She shouldn’t have pushed it so hard, in such dangerous territory. Clearly Edward was more used to riding in such rough terrain.

As shock began to fade, pain replaced it.

“Good God, are you alright?” Edward slipped and slid down the sodden bank towards her, digging his heels into the soft earth when he reached her side to stop himself landing on top of her.