He pointed at the ground. “’Twould seem your ring would not wish to be far from you.”
She sighed and glanced heavenward, the unspoken prayer read easily in her eyes. Then she faced him. “I cannot thank you enough, sir.”
With a smile of acknowledgement he motioned behind him. “We best hurry if we are to reach Sandwich before tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Within seconds she’d secured the chain around her neck. She glanced toward the trees. “Shall we leave straightaway?”
He nodded, praying the few bites she’d eaten last night would sustain her through the day’s journey ahead.
They began walking side by side, leaving behind the house that had shielded both of them from capture. Surely God had led him there. He turned to glance behind, offering a prayer of thanks, and a prayer of need. For without a doubt, danger was at their heels.
The trees were thick, their robust foliage just as dense, and ever ready to abet the enemy. Nature didn’t take sides in matters of war. Though the yellow sunlight lit the world around them with exuberant rays, the shadows at their feet whispered ill-will. His senses were at their height, his fingers twitching, ready to grab for the weapon at his side. If only he’d had his sword or even a dagger, any additional weapon. But his fists and one round in the chamber of his gun would have to be enough to protect himself and the woman.
He glanced over his shoulder at his companion. Her arms were around her middle, her eyes at the ground then at the trees. He raised his head and considered the silence. The sounds of nature were pleasant, but the lack of conversation could not continue for the entire trip, could it?
He flung another look at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Should he say something? There were plenty of things he could inquire of her, but—
“The foliage is such a lovely shade of green.”
Her voice chimed in the quiet wood like a bell on a hill. William looked across his shoulder to her. “Different from England?”
Her dainty brows folded down. “How did you—”
“Your accent. Most colonists have a different sound.”
A small smile toyed with one side of her mouth. “Do they sound like you?”
He grinned, shrugging a single shoulder. “I suppose.” Had he lost his accent after only three years?
The momentary relief from silence was quickly washed again in awkward quiet. He cleared his throat, hoping he could organize a thought—any thought into words, but she rescued him by speaking again.
“How did you come by that injury?”
He exhaled the emotions that breached the bounds of their hiding place within his chest. “A hazard of farming.”
Would she buy it? He darted a gaze toward her, gauging her acceptance of his impetuous answer. He breathed again when she nodded, ready to continue his story but once more she questioned him.
“Will you be in…in…this place you are going to…”
“Sandwich?”
“Aye, will you be in Sandwich long before returning to your farm?”
The sudden realization hit him square in the gut. “Nay, that was not my farm, only an abandoned place to take refuge. I am…I am returning…” He swallowed, squirming at the sound of his stuttering. Lying had never come easily to him, though ’twould seem that would have to change if he wished to keep his head attached to the rest of him. “I have no farm of my own at present. I was traveling from New York to Sandwich when I happened upon you.”
“I see.” Myriad questions dashed through her eyes before a veil of sorrow draped her features. “I don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t been traveling through.”
“You haven’t any idea who that man was?”
“Nay.” She gripped harder around her middle. “But my father sent him. That much I do know.” She stopped, her mouth pinched. “That is all I really need to know.”
Her answer begged for more questions, but William bit his tongue and nodded.
“I cannot go with him. I cannot be found. I do not care what happens so long as—”
With a yelp she tripped and fell to the ground. William lunged for her, but was a moment too late.
Instantly, he crouched beside her, then helped her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”