Page 64 of The Meriwell Legacy
From the first moment of meeting his eyes, she’d felt a connection, a link that had allowed her to be herself unrestrainedly, unreservedly.
Like now; she used her height and her weight and, for once, rejoiced in both. The combination made it impossible for Edward to easily manage her, not that any man ever had.
She doubted screaming now would do much good, so she didn’t care that Edward still had his hand clamped over her lips. Forcing him to leave it there meant she could keep him, if not off balance, then without the purchase and leverage he would otherwise have had.
Indeed, from his mutterings, he seemed to have realized that killing her was going to be significantly more difficult than killing Glynis and Rosa had been. Apparently, the risk that she might break free and escape had led him to conclude he needed to take her farther away than he’d first intended… She hoped that would work in her favor, allowing Alaric and the others time to catch up with them.
She continued to hold panic and even fear at bay by concentrating on slowing their progress along the woodland paths. Edward seemed to know where he was going, but as he turned onto less-frequented ways, the uneven surfaces made it even easier for her to gain traction with her feet and deny him the next step—and make him grunt and heave to force her on, just for one step.
He remained determined, but so was she.
At one point, a tiny niggle of doubt found a gap in her armor and slipped into her mind, raising the question of why Alaric would race to rescue her. Somewhat to her surprise—in reality, she had no call on Alaric’s protection—her inner self remained adamantly steadfast in believing that he would come. That he would follow them and seize her back. That he would rescue her from death at the hands of a madman—she who had never in her life needed rescuing by anyone, much less that anyone had offered.
Somewhere buried deep inside her lay the conviction that she could rely on Alaric Radleigh. That all the shared looks of complete comprehension and the apparently idle brushes of their hands over the past days had, indeed, meant something. Something both of them had set to one side to deal with Glynis’s and then Rosa’s murder.
Because ultimately, murder threatened them all, just as it threatened her now.
What she felt about Alaric burned strong and true inside her. She drew strength from the certainty, placed her trust in him, and continued to force Edward to fight for every foot of path.
She hoped she could keep him sufficiently busy wrestling with her that he didn’t glance back and notice the trail he and she were leaving.
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Chapter 11
Alaric and Percy raced along the woodland paths. In the deepening twilight, they slipped and slid, but didn’t slow. Courtesy of the scuffing left by both Constance’s and Edward’s shoes, the pair was easy to track.
Then the path veered onto rockier ground, and the trail became less certain.
His lungs working like bellows, Alaric forced himself to slow, to search for broken twigs and crushed leaves to make certain of the way. These woods were riddled with paths, intersecting and connecting in a complex web; he couldn’t afford—Constance couldn’t afford for him—to lose the trail.
Percy helped, wordlessly pointing the way if Alaric hadn’t already picked it out. They passed through countless intersections, leaving twigs and rocks as markers for those following as they pressed deeper and deeper into the old woods.
Alaric fought to block out the thought of how far Edward would go—how long he would wait—before closing his hands about Constance’s throat and choking the life from her. The image the thought conjured… If he allowed it to gain purchase in his mind, it would bring him to his knees.
How, exactly, he was going to seize Constance back, he didn’t know—he only knew that he would. He had no idea what the price might be; he only knew he was ready to pay it.
“He’s definitely heading somewhere,” Percy panted from behind Alaric.
“Yes, but where?” That was the question. If they could guess, they might be able to skirt around and get there first… Alaric’s jaw set. “He might know these woods, but he doesn’t know we’re in pursuit. He doesn’t even know we know he’s taken Constance.” He was speaking as much for himself as for Percy. “He’ll think he has time to stage Constance’s death and concoct some believable tale to cover his absence and allow him to drive away tomorrow.”
Twenty paces later, they came to a point where the path they were following split into three. The intersection lay on a rocky shelf worn smooth by the years; they searched in the waning light, but this time, they found nothing to say which way Edward and Constance had gone.
Alaric and Percy turned in slow circles, listening for all they were worth, but no sound—of birds startling into flight or annoyed by intruders—came to show them the way.
Eventually, with panic pricking beneath his skin, Alaric looked at Percy. They were on Mandeville land, and Percy knew it better than anyone. They were both breathing rapidly, both nursing stitches in their sides. Alaric bent over, bracing his hands on his knees. Percy dropped into a crouch opposite.
Alaric caught Percy’s gaze. “We have to think like Edward.” He paused, then went on, “He’s displayed remarkable sangfroid throughout—he hasn’t panicked prior to this, and I doubt he’s panicking now. Instead, he’s focused on his goal. He’s obviously got some place in mind, some place where no one lives and that no one normally visits. And possibly where no one will think to look for a missing lady’s body.”
Percy nodded. “Edward’s cold and calculating—he always has been.”
“All right. So he’s come this far.” Alaric waved a hand to indicate the woods around them. “Think. What hidden-away place is he making for, one where considerable time will elapse before Constance’s body is found?”
Alaric stared at Percy.
Percy looked back, then bit his lip. His expression said he’d thought of somewhere that fitted Edward’s bill, but was too frightened to say—to take the responsibility.
Between them, Alaric had always been the leader and Percy the follower. This time, Alaric had to make Percy understand that he trusted Percy’s judgment, that in this instance, Percy’s judgment was better than his own.
