Page 9 of A Wicked Earl's Widow
“I won’t give it up. You won’t pinch my pocket, you jackanapes.” She screeched at them as one kicked her in the ribs.
“Devil take it, keep the blasted weeds. We saw the farmer give you a purse, now hand it over.”
“Bloody hell, leave that poor woman alone,” yelled the driver.
“Let’s get out of here. We don’t need no more trouble for a few shillings,” said one man.
“When we’re about to be flush in the pocket?” Then he cursed as his partner escaped into the woods.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and the ruffian pulled out a flintlock pistol and pointed it at the driver. “Tell your passengers to remove themselves. And bring their purses and jewelry.”
Watching the old woman curled around her burlap sack, something inside Eliza snapped like a twig. She handed Althea to Mrs. Watkins. “Don’t move until I call for you.” She opened the door and stepped out. Rage burned deep in her soul, and heat spread up her neck. With clenched fists trembling, she locked eyes with the footpad. He would not strike that poor thing again. She’d had enough of overbearing, malicious men.
“My lady, no, you mustn’t,” the governess cried, peeking out of the window.
“Do as I say.” Eliza didn’t recognize her own voice, the deadly control in it.
“Well, well, ain’t this a honey-fall.” The footpad grinned, showing blackened teeth. He swiped at his scruffy beard and spit off to the side. “Where is your purse,my lady?”
Eliza stopped next to the coachman’s step and then everything happened in a blur. The driver spoke and bent toward her, the pistol fired and hit him in the shoulder. He howled in pain, clutching at his injury and dropping the whip.
Eliza’s heart pounded as blood seeped between the coachman’s fingers. She looked back at the ruffian. No longer concerned with the driver, the thief turned and walked back to the elderly woman. His hulking form, the sound of his voice, the fist clutched at his side…
“NO!” She grabbed the whip at her feet and charged the man. “Leave her be. The devil take you or I will!”
The whip cracked and slashed the man’s back. He howled and froze as if in disbelief. Eliza watched the slow spread of red seep through his torn coat. Deliberately he turned, his arms out and face contorted. “You bitch, you’ll pay for that.”
She slashed out again before he could advance. And again. And again. She gained more strength with each blow, counting off the sins of her father.
Snap!“For Mama.”
Snap!“For my childhood.”
Snap!“For the kittens you drowned before my eyes.”
Snap!“For my horse Thunder you rode to death.”
Eliza heard a muffled cackle, a disjointed odd laughter as the man crouched low and covered his face with hands. The moment seemed suspended, and nothing mattered but making this fiend pay. All motion slowed and sound was distorted as if she were under water. But her focus remained. Stop the evil before her.
“Don’t. Give. Up.”
The whip cracked. A scream of pain.
“Promise me.”
“I p-promise”—the snap of leather, a hoarse male voice—“I promise w-whatever it is. P-please stop.” Somewhere in the distance a child cried, hoofbeats hammered the ground.
Something caught her wrist, and she twisted, her other hand slapping and scratching at the force blocking her.
“Mama,” called a small voice from far away. “Mamaaa.”
Eliza blinked.Althea.Cheeks wet, chest heaving, a tremor racked her entire body. She looked into a strong face with a square jaw and soft brown eyes before the world went black.
Nathaniel yanked backon the reins and hit the ground before the horse slid to a stop. The woman stood panting, her feet wide apart, chest heaving, yelling with each flick of her wrist. He had caught only a word here or there on the wind, but her vehement tone had made him pause.
Kittens. Thunder. Promise.Damnation, the gel must be mad. He’d never seen a female fly into the boughs like this.
For a moment, she cast her attention on him as he strode toward her. Gideon had been correct. An avenging angel—with reddened eyes, a hauntingly beautiful tear-streaked face, and a determined set to her jaw. She’d lost her bonnet, and a thick straight mane of golden hair tumbled around her waist, swaying as she raised an arm to strike again.
