Turning away, she answered to the ground. “I am…I am Miss Whitehead.”
William refused to allow the scowl on his forehead to grow as deep as it wished. She lied. But why?
He shrugged off his question when a strong wind pushed against them, allowing his mind to focus on matters much more pressing. “Where will you be safe? Is there anywhere I may take you?”
The woman who called herself Miss Whitehead shifted toward him. Her mouth tightened and her hands smoothed across her bag. She stared into the forest, shaking her head as if she were lost in a vast field, unsure which direction to go.
His eyes went to her busy fingers as they played with the tie of her small reticule. He allowed the scowl a slight release. Was that all she had? ’Twas then he took note of her dress, how it frayed at the bottom and was so threadbare in places he could nearly see her white petticoat beneath the pale gray.
Her face reddened when she caught his gaze upon her. She brushed a hand over her skirt then clutched the bag to her chest. “Forgive me…I believe, I mean I fear…to be honest, sir, I do not know what I am to do.” The way her voice changed in the few words she spoke, beginning with inflated courage and trailing away to fragile breaths as she stared across the road, wound strings of compassion through his chest.
She carried secrets. And wounds. As did Henry. He was no stranger to the weight of a bu
rdened soul.
“Well, perhaps you can—” The rough clomp, clomp of a horse’s hoof beat drummed against the ground, and his hands reached for his weapon. Another soldier? Paul? The attacker returned to find her?
The woman paled, and he grabbed her arm. “Run.”
~~~
Anna held tight to her rescuer’s firm hand, gripping her skirts with the other as they charged through the trees. At the middle of the wood she flung a glance over her shoulder just long enough to see the one from whom they fled. Black tricorne, blue jacket whipping behind him, eyes on the road. A root caught her toe and she stumbled, but her rescuer caught her before she fell flat against the ground. The halt in speed must have allowed the man at her side a look at the rider as he helped her stand, for the urgency in his eyes dulled.
He remained unmoving, his vision pointed like a weapon to the rider that raced past. His muscled chest pumped, pressing against the fabric of his shirt. His broad shoulders refused to shed their tension and his arms remained flexed. Anna lowered her attention to her feet, trying to loosen her mind from its focus on the gentle, protective touch of his hand against her arm.
“He’s passed,” the man breathed. “We are safe. For now.”
She inhaled deeply and released a pained breath, praying with the rush of air from her lungs. Lord, I thank thee for sending this man to me.
He cupped her elbow and urged her onward. “I should like to help you to a place of safety. Where is your family?”
His words jolted Anna, forcing her to meet his gaze. Strong, and yet, behind the courage that first gave her pause, his blue eyes seemed to twine through her spirit.
She stared and toiled against her tied tongue. Where is your family? Such a question.
Anna licked her lips and flung him a look before studying the path, grateful for the steady wind that beat upon her back and cooled the fears that burned beneath her skin. Suddenly she stopped. The man from the carriage—the one who’d attacked her—knew who she was. He would not stop looking for her, not when Father had sent him. So why must she keep her identity a secret from this man? Would such a thing bring her greater safety or greater peril? Braving a look at her rescuer, Anna tried to untangle the knot of confusion that coiled within her when the thread of thought lay straight. No matter how her secret strained to be revealed, no one must know her true identity.
The man…William…spoke before she could form a single thought. “If it…” He stopped and glanced skyward. “I fear a storm will be upon us. There will be no traveling tonight. If…if you are comfortable, there is a cabin just beyond this small wood where we may take shelter and in the morning I will see what can be done about taking you to your family. Or wherever it is you wish to go.”
A rumble thundered high above them. He was right. It would not be long before the heavens gave up their tears. She glanced at his hand still upon her elbow, allowing her vision to travel up his muscled forearm until she halted, startled by the tear in his shirt and the blood-stained bandage that circled his bicep.
“You’re hurt.”
He stalled, quirking his head as if he hadn’t understood what she’d said before following her gaze to his arm. “An old wound that is healing, ’tis all.”
He gestured forward and Anna began walking again, watching every footfall so she would not need his assistance a second time.
She glanced up from her footing. There before her, waiting like a lost child begging for notice, a little cabin rested at the far side of a clearing. Small, but not as run-down as she’d thought on first hearing the word “cabin.” The rustic nature of the dwelling stirred the youthful cravings for adventure that had always lured her heart. Peaceful, inviting. A sense of wilderness. A far cry from the spacious estate she’d resided in these past years, but far more real.
William’s fingers brushed against her elbow as he walked past. He stopped a few paces ahead and turned back. “This will suffice, I hope. Just for the night, of course. I will stay in the barn.”
“Nay.” She answered on top of his words. The man was a stranger and yet the fear of being left alone was greater than the fear of sheltering with him.
He tipped his head to the side, his expression peaked in polite questioning. She met him at the edge of the wood and stared at the small home just as heavy drops of rain began to fall. “I would be most grateful if you would…that is to say I do not wish to be—” Thunder rumbled in the clouds above them, and she put her lip between her teeth, looking away.
“Not to worry,” he said.
Anna flung him a glance, her tension softening as the gentle smile in his face widened.