“Barnaby,” he gasped. “My name is Barnaby.” He stood upright and braced his hands on his hips. “That’s all you need to know right now so don’t ask me anything else.”
He hadn’t got the breath to reply to any further requests for information. Glancing around them, Barnaby touched the gun tucked safely in his pocket and considered their location. There wasn’t much around except houses, but he suspected from the variation in the rooftops that there was a different group of buildings in the next street.
“This way, but keep quiet and don’t speak. The last thing I want is a gun battle out on a street like this,” he warned. The mere thought of the number of people who would come out of their houses to find out what was happening, and the resultant chaos that would ensue, was horrific.
Suddenly feeling less sure of herself now that she was standing upright again, Rose glanced nervously around them and raised no objection when he motioned her to walk before him down the narrow alley.
“Thank you, God,” Barnaby growled when they emerged onto a road that contained a long row of terraced houses, but had a group of sheds at the far end. Heading swiftly toward those outbuildings, Barnaby took a look inside.
“Perfect,” he grunted with relief when he spied what he was looking for.
“What is it? What are you planning?” Rose demanded.
“Keep quiet,” Barnaby demanded. “Chadwick isn’t too far away. Don’t let him hear you.”
He knew they had a few minutes before Chadwick would catch them. Barnaby needed to make full use of the time to get the horse harnessed to the small curricle they had found so they could be on their way before the killer got a good shot. First, though, he had to persuade the harridan to keep still and stay silent.
I will have better luck persuading the horse to wear the dress, he mused darkly but still, maybe the threat of death would be enough to get the woman to do as she was told.
“Right, of course,” he muttered.
Rose frowned. “Are you talking to me?” she asked, trying to ignore the fear that continued to build with the thought that this man might not be mentally functioning normally. He certainly behaved oddly. Since meeting him nothing had been normal. Her entire life had spun out of control and didn’t seem inclined to stop.
“No, I am talking to the bloody horse,” Barnaby snarled.
“Why are you so mean?” she asked with a frown. “This is not my fault you know.”
“I didn’t say it was,” Barnaby replied. “I am just trying to get us out of here alive. It would help if you co-operate with me and I don’t have to argue with you all the damned time.”
“I think I have been surprisingly complacent given the circumstances. After all, you accost me-”
“Accost you?” Barnaby all but shouted. He realised he was talking far too loudly and glanced furtively around them. Stepping toward her, he towered menacingly over her and pointed one long finger at her nose. “I was trying to save your curious backside.”
“You accosted me,” Rose accused him. She lifted her hand up and began to point to each of her fingers. “Then you assault me, swear at me, then start to give me orders as though it is your every right to command me to do anything. Then you carry me off into the night, grumbling and swearing at me as though it is all my fault. Now you have the unmitigated gall to gripe at me for not being agreeable to your domineering behaviour.”
“Stand still, shut up, and you might just live to see daylight,” Barnaby warned, determined not to argue with her. If he was honest, and a little less disturbed by her, he would have conceded that maybe she had a point. However, he was far too attracted to her for his own peace of mind. He had to maintain some semblance of control over his libido and if that was by keeping her at arm’s length and treating her as nothing more than a thorn in his side then that is what he would do. He could consider how he truly felt later, when he was well away from her, and maybe in his cups and too nonsensical to think clearly.
“He isn’t even around anymore,” she protested unconcernedly, waving to the empty street behind them. She knew because she had been looking for him with each step they had taken.
When he didn’t immediately reply, Rose rubbed her bruised stomach absently. It had settled now it wasn’t upside down being beaten by his shoulder, but she knew she was going to feel tender for some time to come. It was only when she felt the warm rush of his breath against her cheek that she turned to look at him and realised that he had crossed the distance between them and was now glaring threateningly at her.
Barnaby leaned toward her until his nose was mere inches from hers.
“It isn’t him you have to worry about now,” he growled. “Unless you know exactly where you are, and exactly how to get back, you are completely at my mercy. Now shut up. I swear, if you do or say anything without my permission I will damned well tie you up and hand-deliver you to that gunman. He will shoot you just to get some blood peace and quiet and I won’t blame him one bit.”
He slammed his mouth closed with a loud snap when he realised he was on the verge of shouting again. Heaving a deeply discontented sigh, Barnaby issued her with one final glare and hitched the carriage to the harness and began to secure the straps.
“I don’t know why you have to be so surly,” she said. “I haven’t been mean to you.”
“You kept hitting my backside,” Barnaby protested. “You jabbed your elbow into my spine, and you won’t shut up!”
“Well, you were dangling me over your shoulder like I was a lunch sack,” she argued.
Seething, Barnaby lifted a warning hand and placed a finger over his lips. He wondered if all women talked this much; this one certainly didn’t seem capable of being silent for more than a minute. At this rate, he would hand himself over to Chadwick just to be rid of her.
“What are you doing?” she gasped when she watched him lead the horse out of the stable. “You can’t steal the horse.”
“What do you think I have wasted our precious advantage on harnessing the bloody beast up for then? Should I wait for church on Sunday?” Barnaby challenged.