Was Gideon even his real name?
“Getting out,” she muttered.
She tensed, waiting for him to grab her, but he only straightened against the worn upholstery. She sucked a shaky breath through her teeth and continued her panicked search for the latch.
“I gave you my word I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said quietly.
“I know what a man’s word is worth.”
Ah, at last!
The door banged open, and she tumbled forward. Only to land smack against her kidnapper’s accomplice. A choked scream erupted as hard hands closed around her upper arms through the voluminous coat. A scream of pain as much as fear.
“Let me go!” She struggled against his firm hold. Her abused flesh protested the violent movements, but she fought on.
“Your pardon, Miss Watson.”
To her astonishment, Akash carefully placed her on her feet and moved back. Behind her, she heard the carriage creak as Sir Gideon emerged into the night. He stood at her side, tall, urbane, his expression quizzical in the bright moonlight.
Tulliver came up, holding a lantern. “What’s all this to-do?”
He stared at her as if she’d escaped Bedlam. Her hysteria ebbed on a sick tide, leaving behind humiliated awareness that she’d made a fool of herself.
“Miss Watson was under the impression we brought her here to have our wicked way.”
Both the irony in Sir Gideon’s voice and the irritated look Tulliver cast her made her more than ever certain she’d jumped to false conclusions. Fading panic bubbled through her blood and left her tottering with reaction. She pulled the thick greatcoat around her shivering body and suddenly realized her rescuer wore only a jacket over his shirt.
“You must be freezing.” She plucked at the coat with her good hand.
“No,” he said sharply, gesturing for her to stop, although he didn’t touch her. Then more calmly, “I don’t feel the cold.”
“Miss Watson, we’ve stopped so I can examine your injuries,” Akash said.
Her eyes went automatically to Sir Gideon. “You have medical knowledge?”
The carriage lamps glanced a sheen of gold across his glossy hair as he shook his head. “Akash and Tulliver between them make up a fair doctor. And we have supplies. Bandages. Ointments. Laudanum to dull the pain.”
“I won’t be drugged.” On unsteady legs, she retreated until she bumped into the carriage.
Bad as the beating had been, it was Felix’s threat to drug her and hand her over for Lord Desaye’s rape that had finally made her flee Holcombe Hall. When her ordeal started, she’d considered escape, then decided to cling to the dubious security of life at Holcombe. It was only for a couple of weeks. She could endure whatever her stepbrothers did as long as she had the ultimate promise of freedom. On the road, she’d be at the mercy of anyone she met. Defenseless. Destitute. Helpless.
But when her stepbrothers threatened unspeakable degradation, the dangers of the road had paled in comparison.
How she loathed the Farrells. Her two stepbrothers provided a contrast in menace. Hubert, all bullying brute strength, and Felix, spite and intellect. Whatever damage Hubert inflicted, it was Felix she really feared.
In response to her vehement refusal, Akash shrugged, the movement subtly foreign. “Let me at least see what the damage is. If you’ll permit?”
“Be careful. She’s hurt her arm,” Sir Gideon said urgently.
“My friend, you know you can trust me with her.”
Reluctantly, Charis stepped forward. Akash carefully lifted the coat away from her shoulders and laid it inside the coach.
She stood before them in her wreck of a gown. The night was freezing. The needle-sharp wind carried a promise of snow. Her good hand rose shaking to close her bodice while she angled her chin with a pathetic attempt at pride. She was decent. Barely. But she knew she looked dirty and hurt and helpless. With moonlight, the carriage lamps and the lantern, her bruises and abrasions must show with humiliating clarity.
“Please sit down, Miss Watson.” Sir Gideon slid a folding stool from the back of the carriage and set it behind her. He also passed her the pug-scented shawl.
She subsided with gratitude—her knees felt like rubber—and draped the shawl over her shoulders. Hesitantly, she extended her arm toward Akash. He frowned as he gently manipulated her wrist. Although his hold was skilled and sure, she winced.