Page 73 of What A Rogue Wants
Madelaine’s breast swelled with a silent protest. She couldn’t see Grey’s face and how the man’s words affected him, but the muscles of his back tensed under her grasping fingertips. To their left a horse came charging out of the woods without a rider. A distraction. Her mind registered the fact. She turned to the right, Grey did the same. But it was too late. The hesitation had cost them. The stranger stood on the path directly in front of them. She smelled his sweat and the gunpowder that had discharged from his pistols. He stepped closer, his face blanketed by the dark. “Hand over Lady Madelaine,” the man growled.
Grey stood and moved out from behind the tree with his pistol aimed at the man.
“I wouldn’t shoot if I were you, Lord Grey. I’ve two pistols. Even if you manage to hit me, I could still shoot her. I don’t want to. But to save myself, I will. Don’t make me.”
Though she thought the tree would protect her, Madelaine shrank further behind the oak and away from the man. Something about his voice struck greater fear in her than the two pistols he aimed at them. Frantically, she searched the ground for a stick to use to throw at the man to distract him and give Grey a fighting chance.
“Move and you’re dead,” Grey snarled.
“An impasse?” the man taunted.
Madelaine closed her fingers over dirt, twigs and leaves. None of that could help her. Her throat constricted with despair. She couldn’t just let Grey die. She pushed herself off the ground to charge at the man. A strong arm clamped around her waist and a rough hand over her mouth.
She was propelled backward through the air by whoever had her. Not more than ten feet away, her feet touched the ground, and she was jerked roughly around. Lord Gravenhurst glared at her. “Don’t move a goddamn inch.” He withdrew a pistol and crawled silently back toward the oak tree and Grey. Relief threatened to buckle her knees, but there was no time for respite or indecision. Grey would be fine now.
This was her chance to flee. She waivered for a second, caught by wanting to make sure Grey emerged alive and knowing if she didn’t go she might not get another chance. A stick broke beside her, and her heart jumped and then plunged as a figure emerged from the woods.
“It’s Abby,” Abby whispered.
Madelaine released a rush of breath, all her nerves tingling. “We need to escape.”
Abby didn’t hesitate or question. She yanked Madelaine toward her and pulled her up an incline. As they climbed the small slope and deeper into the dark woods, branches scratched Madelaine’s arms and face and tore at her clothing. Sharp pains pricked her sides as she ran and her breath came in short gasps. At the top of the hill, they stopped by a large tree.
“One minute,” she choked out, doubling over. She put her hand out to keep from falling, but her legs gave way. With a thump, she sagged to her knees, her hands splayed atop gnarled roots meandering in all directions.
Abby fell beside her with a huff. They sat for a moment, their ragged breathing the only noise Madelaine could hear until a bang rent the night. She jerked and shoved at the leafy ground to gain purchase. Her heartbeat roared in her ears. Was Grey wounded? Should she go back or forward? Another pistol fired into the silent night. Her heart pumped furiously, indecision making her sick. If she went back, she could be killed or captured. If she went forward, she’d save her father.
“Let’s go,” she said, her voice raw with pain and sorrow. “We’ve got to get to Kew and the prince.” They barreled through the woods away from the stranger and Grey. The muscles in her legs burned as she climbed the hill, but she pushed herself to keep going. Through the thinning trees, a steep drop opened to her right.
Tears burned her eyes, and her throat ached with the need to cry. She shoved branches out of her path as she ran, the tears breaking through her determination and blurring her vision. Unable to see properly, she wiped furiously at her eyes. A branch caught her in the chest. It knocked the wind out of her and she stumbled on a root.
She teetered at the edge of the cliff, her arms flailing for purchase through the air. Abby’s scream of horror followed Madelaine over the side. Jutting trees jabbed into her sensitive flesh as she fell. Her body rolled and bounced off the brush, tumbling until she hit the bottom and struck her head with a thud. Streaks of pain shot through her skull and blackness swept across her vision.
Twenty-Six
“Wake up, Madelaine.”
Madelaine batted the noise away and tried to turn from the hot breath tickling her face. Her neck ached and her legs would not move to turn her body. Dear God, she was crippled. Her eyes flew open. The fog of sleep lifted and Grey’s concerned face loomed in front of her. Bright stars and moonlight twinkled behind him making him look for a moment like her personal angel. “How do you feel?” His voice shook.
How did she feel? Her body throbbed. Her head pounded, stars danced in her vision, and her throat was so dry she might choke. “Water,” she croaked.
Grey pressed a leather pouch to her mouth, his movements stiff and awkward.
Her eyes widened at the bloody bandage wrapped around his arm. “You were shot.”
He nodded. “Surface wound. The bullet scraped my arm.”
“The stranger?”
All the concern that had filled Grey’s eyes drained away. He stared at her with contempt. “Your accomplice escaped.”
“My what?” She struggled to sit up, but her hands… her hands were bound. Her gaze flew to her feet. Bound as well. At least she wasn’t crippled. She rolled onto her side and awkwardly made her way up.
Grey watched her with raised eyebrows.
Her head swam and bile threatened to make her lose what little food was in her belly. She started to fall back over, but Grey yanked her all the way into a sitting position and leaned her against a tree. For a moment, she closed her eyes and concentrated on not being sick.
“Leave her alone,” Abby demanded from somewhere nearby.
