The woman pressed against him, her tense body going rigid. Her chest pumped as if she prepared to scream.
Henry clapped a hand to her mouth and tightened his grip around her quaking shoulders. “Stay silent and I promise they will not see us behind these branches.”
A soldier stomped in their direction, and Henry held his breath at the same moment her chest stopped its movement. The man called to his companion. “Baker?”
“Aye?”
“Do you see anything?”
“Nay. You?”
“Eh.” The soldier grunted and came closer, his boots only inches from their eyes.
Henry willed his blood to stop, fearing the sound of it running wild through his veins would reach the soldier’s ears. Move away. Move away now. He prayed the soldier was not a skilled tracker, for Henry’s footprints littered the ground.
The other soldier called from afar. “I see nothing. They’ve gone, whoever they were.”
“Aye,” said the man closest to them. “Let’s get on with it.” He turned and made his way back to the carriage.
The woman dropped her head against Henry’s shoulder and he relaxed his arm. Thank you, Lord.
The group of soldiers huddled around the man who claimed to be her father, speaking in low tones. If it weren’t for the jangle of swords and muffled stomp of horses’ hooves, he might have been able to make out their conversation. The first soldier offered his hand and helped the man to his feet.
“Follow us,” the soldier said.
The man, still bleeding, dotted his arm against the side of his head. “At your heels.”
The soldiers mounted and raced from the scene in a blur of color. Seconds later the carriage jolted and with a sharp “Yaw!” the attacker followed.
Soon, all but the sounds of birdsong and the rustle of trees met Henry’s ears. He could finally breathe, but still kept his volume minimal. “Are you all right, miss?” He scooted back and sat upright. “Did he harm you?”
The woman pushed up and propped herself against her arm. “Nay.”
He scooted from their spot and offered his hand. She took it and fumbled with her skirts as she rose to her feet.
“I thank you.” ’Twas then she looked at him, her large eyes wide and brimmed with emotion as her words seemed to yearn for a way to relate the depth of what she felt but couldn’t quite express. “I am forever indebted to you, sir.”
Henry’s tongue welded to the top of his mouth. He stared, blinking, unable to answer. Her large eyes, full mouth, and raven hair made her appear more like a heroine from a painting than a stranger in the wood. Giving his head a shake, he found his voice. “Not at all.”
The small smile she’d borne faded, and she turned her pale blue gaze away from him. “How could I not have known? How foolish I was.”
“The man?”
She looked at him, brow creased. Her mouth opened but she snapped it shut again. She darted a quick look to the road then toward the trees. A scowl darkened her face seconds before her voice met his ears once more. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
’Twas then his earlier fears resurfaced, but this time without the threat of veracity. It was no trap. Or so it would seem. This woman had indeed needed him just as he’d feared. What a blessing, then, that he’d been able to come to her aid.
He offered a polite bow, scrambling to locate a name he could use in place of his own. “They…they call me William Fredericks.” Studying her expression, he paused, praying the way he spoke the name he’d appointed slipped from his tongue as if he’d said it for the full twenty-eight years of his life. The accepting smile she offered buoyed his confidence, and he determined to take that as a boon.
William Fredericks. He grinned on the inside and it grew until the smile painted itself on his face. His boyhood friend—taken by smallpox during the same epidemic that took William’s father—had carried the name Henry had always envied. Why not christen himself with it in honor of such a good soul? His friend would be happy to have shared it, that much was certain.
From this moment he must think, feel, breathe William. Henry must stay in the past.
The woman turned away, her hands clasping her bag against her middle, eyes scanning the road as if she believed any moment her attacker would return and snatch her away.
He shuffled his stance. He must pry from her some information, to know better how he may help her from this point on. Such familiarity was hardly proper, but there was nothing else to be done. “May I be so bold as to inquire after your name?”
She flashed a glance over his shoulder and the clear color of her eyes made his heart trip, but he squashed the sensation before it had a chance to feel through him.