Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

“Good evening, madam,” he said, and swept her a bow.

“Brent,” she whispered. In the next instant she stumbled off the bed and into his arms. “Are you really here? I’m not imagining you?” Her hands were clutching at his arms, his shoulders.

“I’m here.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I knew I had to escape, but I didn’t have the strength to dress myself. The candle is nearly gone.”

He held her tightly against him, not speaking for several moments. She was trembling. He felt her sag against him, and lifted her into his arms.

“You don’t have to do anything now,” he said as he set her on the edge of her bed. He lightly cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head. “Will you come with me?”

She looked at him as if he had asked an incomprehensible question. “I thought I was alone,” she said. “Have you really come to take me away from this house?”

“Yes,” he said. “I see that you managed to pack.”

She was clutching at his sleeve. “Please, can we go now? Sometimes, sometimes they look in on me.”

He studied her pale face for a moment. Her eyes were feverishly bright. Her long hair was pulled back and tied with a simple ribbon at the nape of her neck. He lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek. “Sit still.”

She watched him toss her valise out the window. “Now, Byrony, this might be a little tricky. I’m not certain just how strong that damned tree is. Shall we give it a try?”

She nodded, and tried to rise.

“No, no.” He fetched her heavy wool cloak from the armoire and wrapped it around her. “Just hang on.” He lifted her over his shoulder, his arm across the back of her thighs.

Byrony closed her eyes. If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. Not yet. She breathed in the scent of him, felt the strength of him.

A branch cracked. Brent cursed softly, momentarily losing his footing. But Byrony made no sound. She lay over his shoulder as if it were the safest place in the world to be. “Good girl,” he whispered. “We’re almost there.”

He reached the ground and lowered her to her feet. “You’ve lost weight,” he said.

She was leaning against him, his arms supporting her. “So have you.”

“How do you know? You haven’t looked at me.”

“Your face is thinner. Have you been ill too?”

He wanted to laugh, but didn’t. Maybe later. “Come, we’ve got to get away from here, and now.” He picked up her valise.

He lifted her over his shoulder once again. She trusts me, he thought as he walked as quietly as he could toward his stallion. It was a surprising realization, given the way he’d always treated her. No, she’d trusted him before, when she’d come to him that rainy night. He managed somehow to climb on his stallion’s back, holding both her and the valise.

He wanted to know why the hell her husband would want to hurt her. If indeed he had been trying to hurt her. Probably, his thinking continued, because she was going to leave him. The jealous, possessive sort. Maybe Ira was furious because she was taking their child with her. But she’d said nothing about the child, expressed no concern, nothing. He frowned, thinking that the puzzle pieces simply didn’t fit cleanly together. He didn’t understand her or this bizarre situation. And now he was in the middle of it. Irrevocably.

Brent pulled his horse to a halt in the alley behind the saloon. To his complete surprise, Saint came out of the shadows.

“Good evening, Brent,” he said. “I was expecting you a bit sooner, but I guess rescues take a goodly amount of time these days.”

“You sneaky bastard,” Brent said as he carefully dismounted, Byrony in his arms. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew what I was going to do.”

“Sometimes you’re about as transparent as a window-pane. Take her upstairs and put her to bed. I’ll take a look at her while you take your horse back to the stables. I trust no one saw you.”

“No.”

Brent handed Saint the valise, then shifted Byrony into his arms. She leaned her face against his shoulder.

Once she was lying on Brent’s bed, Saint said over his shoulder, “Get out for a while, Brent. Let me examine my patient.”

“Saint? Did I dream it or did you come to see me?”