Pricks of anger heated Rush’s back. He curled his fingers and relaxed his grip, glancing up the stairs where Anna had gone then back again at Warren. Pressing out a bitter breath as he accepted the irony, he sneered. Why was it that this man was the only one he could trust—and at the same time, the only one he couldn’t?

Warren tilted his head, impatience oozing from his eyes and arrogance from the breadth of his shoulders. Rush’s eye twitched. Of what did a simple gamekeeper have to be so proud?

“You feel yourself equal to me.” Rush glared, keeping his voice void of the hatred that surged.

“Nay.” The man stood straighter, the knife in his voice stabbing Rush clear through. “I feel myself above you.”

Warren turned to go, but Rush gripped his arm. “You will not leave until I have said my piece.”

Arms bent, fists round, Warren sneered.

Rush pushed him inside the study and slammed the door. “She plans to run again. I see it in her eyes.”

“Can you blame her?” Warren stood still, expressionless. “What would you have me do about it? That is why you have called me here is it not?” He paused, the muscles in his face hardening. “How can you be sure I will do your bidding? Might I not as easily steal her away from you?”

A cloud moved in front of the sun, darkening the room and Rush’s soul as well. Unable to stand his enemy’s presence without the abiding desire to strangle him, Rush made his purpose impossible to misunderstand. “Do not think me ignorant of the vow you made to my wife.” Still Warren stared, unmoving. Rush continued. “You may not wish to follow my orders, but I know you would not wish to break your tender promise to Catanna, even after her departure from this life.”

A vein in Warren’s neck bulged.

Seething, Rush spoke through his teeth leaning near enough to feel Warren’s breath on his skin. “I want only what is best for her.”

“You want money.”

“I want the Martin name not to be sullied as it has been since the day I married Catanna Bello.”

Warren lunged, snatching Rush’s throat, his nostrils flaring, spit flying as he spoke. “Do not speak of her that way.”

Air refused to enter, but Rush cooled his straining lungs. Warren wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing his grip was so strong. He spoke, though strained. “I speak only the truth, as well you know it.”

Warren’s face twitched as if he wished he could kill with his eyes alone. He released his grip with a shove. “I know more than you ever will.”

Gasping, Rush corrected his cravat. Jaw twitching, he straightened. “You owe me everything, Warren Fox. Without me you could never have lived such a life, and now I require something in return. If you decline, I will find another, more willing party. And…I venture to guess you would not be pleased with my choice.”

That produced the desired effect, even if it was only in the slight pinch of Warren’s mouth. “Go on.”

Rush stepped closer, his voice low enough to rumble the earth. “Wherever she goes, follow her. And bring her back to me.”

~~~

The angry throbbing in Henry’s arm pulled a groan from his throat as he tore across the clearing. Running nearly blind from the consuming pain, he fixed his gaze on a grove of trees twenty yards ahead. His salvation. Breath surging, heartbeat drumming loud in his ears, all other sounds seemed merely an echo. They shall not have me.

Yanking the red coat from his shoulders, he growled at the burning in his flesh as he wrenched free from the one thing that would most easily identify him to his pursuers. He left it where it fell and pushed harder toward the wood, daring a glance across the field at the wagon from whence he’d escaped. ’Twas only a spec on the horizon now, but the yells and barks of his hunters made it seem they were but inches from his heels.

He could almost taste the sweetness of freedom when at last the trees encircled him. He stopped, gasping. Scouring the unfamiliar wood, he gripped his arm and ground his teeth, a warm stream of blood oozing between his fingers. To the left, a cabin, barn, and water-well rested

like weatherworn gravestones, crumbling and forgotten. The sounds behind him grew louder, and he dashed to the shelter only to stop seconds later. Those dogs would find his scent no matter where he went.

Henry’s muscles cramped. They shall not have me.

The barking intensified and he raced for the well, the only place he might remain hidden from sight—and smell. Clinging to the rope with his one good arm, he carefully lowered himself to the water below. Before long the hollow sounds of his boots scraping against the wall bounced off the standing liquid. Pushing against one side with his back and one foot against the other, he tested the depth of the water before releasing his position. Only inches deep. One small blessing in this tangle of misfortunes.

“Brown, check the shack! You, Ward, look inside the barn.”

Henry’s breath died at the sound of Paul Stockton’s deep tone. Blood seeped stronger through Henry’s fingers while his pulse charged with hate. Nay. Hate was too kind a word.

“You’re sympathetic with their cause, Donaldson,” Paul continued. His volume grew as he drew nearer. “You helped that woman escape. I know it. Otherwise, you would not have run.”

The wound on Henry’s arm throbbed, slandering the bullet that had left the seeping gash. Memories of that night surged to the front of his mind. Kitty running. Nathaniel whirling to shoot the enemy. The crack of gun shots and clouds of white smoke. Blinding pain. Shackles. And now, the bottom of a well.

Tags: Amber Lynn Perry Daughters of His Kingdom Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net