Hiding Rose (Saved By Desire 5)

“Nope.”

Barnaby’s grin when he peeked over his shoulder was the final straw. Rose stared at him for a moment before she snatched the breeches off him. Dragging them over her hips she sucked in a breath while she did the catch and stared down in dismay at the tight material that left nothing to the imagination. She could only be thankful it was dark and Barnaby wasn’t able to see her all that well.

“It’s not funny,” she said dourly.

Barnaby coughed to cover his laughter but did nothing to hide his grin.

Embarrassed beyond words, something inside Rose snapped.

“I am done playing this charade, Mr Stephenson,” she began. “While I thank you for your efforts thus far, I am sure nobody would give me even a second glance dressed like this. I am glad you find this situation so funny. However, I don’t. I have been dragged across the country, soaked to the skin, threatened, and shot at in your company, and you are the one who claims to be protecting me. If this is your idea of trying to keep me safe, then I am sure I would be better off by myself. It is now time I took my leave of you. Goodbye.”

Before he could speak, Rose stepped over her soiled clothing and stalked out of the barn. Without any clue as to what lay beyond, she then headed in the direction they would have taken if they had continued on their journey.

“Wha’cha doin’?”

Rose slammed to a halt and squealed at the sound of the voice behind her. She peered through the darkness and watched an aged farmer amble toward her.

“I am sorry, sir,” she replied hesitantly. “I got lost. Could you tell me which way to go to get to Affetton?” She said Affetton because she knew it was the last village before Portsmouth. Once there she could then decide what to do to get back home.

“Affetton?” the farmer warbled in a dialogue that was extremely difficult to understand. He scratched his ear and squinted at her. “You want to go to Affetton now?”

He clearly thought she had lost her mind.

“That’s why I asked,” Rose sighed, aware that Barnaby – the coward – hadn’t come out of the barn to join them. “Which way is it?”

The farmer pointed at her and shook his head as though disbelieving that anybody could be so stupid. “Are you going to go alone?”

“Can you tell me which way to Affetton?”

The farmer ran his gaze over her. “You wanna go dressed like that?”

“Well, yes,” Rose snapped, wondering if he was a little dense. “I wanna – want – to go to Affetton dressed like this. Now which way do I go, do you know?”

“Aye, I knows,” the farmer replied bemusedly. “Corse, you ain’t gonna like to go that way dressin’ like that, like.”

“Why?” She began to wonder if the man was deliberately stalling her.

“Er-”

Determined not to have any kind of quarrel with the dim-witted farmer, Rose interrupted him. “Which way is Affretton?”

“Why, it’s that way?” the farmer replied pointing a grubby finger to the fields behind her. “But I wouldna-”

“Thank you,” Rose snapped.

She didn’t bother to wait for the man to ramble on any further. At least she had the answer she needed. With a nod of thanks she spun around and marched across the yard. It was difficult to climb the gate beside the stables with such tight breeches on but she eventually managed it and jumped into the field with a huff. Thankfully, dawn had started to rise and afforded her with enough light to be able to see where she was going.

At first, she didn’t realise that she wasn’t alone. She sensed someone watching her, but mistook it for Barnaby. She didn’t want to get into another argument with him so didn’t slow down or bother to look around. She was so lost in thoughts of the best way to avoid him that at first the distant drumming sound she heard didn’t register on her senses. Her frown was deep as she contemplated this latest turn of events, but that quickly turned to a deep scowl of confusion when the strange rumbling noise grew louder. Her stomach dipped.

“Something is wrong,” she murmured aloud.

Was Barnaby racing after her on his horse?

If he is then he can just continue running because I shall not be going with him, she thought piously. Tipping her chin higher, she pinned her gaze on the gate up ahead and continued to march, until a strangled shout from the farmer made her glance behind her.

“Oh my God,” she gasped.

Her eyes widened when her gaze locked with the narrow, beady eyes of the outraged bull trotting steadily after her. She began to increase her pace, hoping to get to the gate before it reached her. To her horror, the beast increased its pace as well and continued to narrow the distance between them with arrogant bovine determination.