“Blast it! What now?” Nathaniel swung round and instantly his brow plunged to his nose as worry slapped him. “Eliza, what are you doing here?”
Brown eyes wide, Eliza clutched her hands at her waist. Wet hair stuck to her face, and the cloak around her shoulders hung to her like a dark cloud. But it was the quivering of her chin that made his stomach turn.
Nathaniel motioned her forward, looking up toward where Thomas had gone. “Are you all right?”
“I can’t find Ki—what’s happened?” Eliza stared at the two strangers then at the man on the table.
Nathaniel gestured to the good Samaritans. “These gentlemen found this wounded man in the woods. We believe he may have been a patriot courier, but we can’t be sure.” He paused to glance again at the motionless figure on the table. “They say he was bumbling about the British taking his satchel, but there’s no way of knowing—”
“Eliza, what are you doing here?” Thomas tromped down the stairs and tossed the sheet and quilt to Nathaniel before taking his wife by the elbow. “What are you doing out in this storm? You should never have left the house.”
Nathaniel focused on his patient but stiffened when Eliza’s trembling voice met his ears.
“Kitty’s missing.”
Missing? Nathaniel yanked a piece of cloth from the sheet and quickly wrapped the man’s head before going to Eliza.
Thomas’s tone remained tranquil but the fervor behind his words matched Nathaniel’s inner question. “What do you mean she’s missing?”
Tears ran down her cheeks, getting lost in the remnants of rain still dripping down her face. “I thought she was still upstairs after...” she looked at Nathaniel, “after what happened, but when I went to check on her I couldn’t find her. I’ve looked everywhere.”
Nathaniel took her arm, straining to keep his touch light as his blood thickened. “Where do you think she’s gone?” The guilt that had pricked moments ago now assailed him. If Cyprian had done anything to her...
“I don’t know,” Eliza answered, gripping Thomas’s hands. “Please come with me.”
With a strong nod, Thomas snatched his hat from the peg and flung his cloak around his shoulder before clutching his wife’s hand and leading her into the rain. Another flash and rumble rattled Nathaniel’s conscience.
“Thomas, wait.” Nathaniel looked at the two strangers. “I have to go.”
“What?” The oldest one protested. “We can’t stay here, we need to make it to Boston.”
Nathaniel swung his arms into his greatcoat. “You won’t make it far in this weather.” He nodded toward the unconscious man. “There’s nothing more I can do for him. His wound is bound. We simply must wait.” He tossed the large quilt at the man. “Put this over him and stay here until I get back.”
He pressed his hat to his head and dashed into the rain, damning his earlier foolishness as he slammed the door shut.
Large drops flicked him in the face, castigating him with every step. His impetuous outburst—his rage—had led Kitty into unmentionable grief. And now, for reasons unknown, she’d disappeared and likely at the hands of an enemy.
The enemy.
“Thomas, Eliza!”
They turned in unison.
He rushed forward. “Continue your search in town. I’ve another place to look.”
Thomas scowled. “Where?”
Nathaniel turned and ran, answering over his shoulder. “Newcomb!”
Chapter Thirty-three
Kitty brushed her hand over her face, flicking the rain from her eyes. She leaned into her mount as it galloped across the rain-soaked ground and prayed this speed would take her to Plymouth within the hour. Without the fitful flashes that brought occasional light to her path, she could never have navigated the road in such blackness. Still, anxiety scratched in her chest but she ignored it, gripping harder to the reins of Thomas’s mare.
Another enormous explosion rocked the skies like a mythical creature roaring down from the heavens. The deluge of rain fell harder, drenching the courage Kitty clung to as the insecurities drove deeper. If she made it to Plymouth, who would she tell? And would they believe her?
She shoved the thought from her mind at the next clap of thunder. Where was her faith? Leaning forward she focused on the strong, heaving breath of the horse as it ran. God would see her safely there.
Another flash lit the road and Kitty’s stomach hurled to her throat at the illuminated silhouettes of two approaching riders. The glint of their weapons shined in the blackness.