Page 105 of A Rogue to Ruin
“I feel sorry for Deborah,” Anne said, putting her hands on either side of her head and exhaling. “I can only imagine what sort of negativity and malice you’ve fed into her mind.”
“Don’t pity her. She’ll come out all right, just as I have. Just as Iwill.”
“You won’t,” Anne promised, fixing him with a dark stare. “You won’t retain the title, and you will hang.” She simply couldn’t reiterate that enough. “I will expend every ounce of energy I possess to ensure both come to pass.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then you’ll give me no choice. That saddens me, dear.”
He sat forward in the seat and lifted his arm. Anne braced herself, uncertain what he meant to do. The sound of a gunshot rent the air, and the coach veered to the side. Ludlow fell back, and again Anne wished for a weapon so she could leap upon him and attack him.
Another pistol shot cracked, and this time, the coach careened wildly. For a terrifying moment, Anne feared they were going to topple over as they left the road.
The vehicle slowed, but only slightly. The ground was rough, and they bounced mercilessly. The ache in Anne’s head intensified, and she pressed her hands more tightly to her skull as if she could relieve the pain by holding her head more still.
Suddenly, Ludlow lunged from his seat to the door and threw it open. He leapt from the coach, and the door swung wildly.
Anne fell, gasping, from the cushion as the coach hit a large bump. A horseman rode by the open door, and Anne prayed whoever it was could get the coach to stop.
For several agonizing minutes, Anne suffered the punishing bouncing of the coach over the uneven terrain. But the vehicle was slowing, thank God. Finally, it came to a stop. She fell back onto the floor, her head spinning, and closed her eyes.
“Anne!”
Rafe’s voice seeped into her aching brain. He scooped her up from the floor and carried her from the coach. The soft night breeze soothed her pain. She opened her eyes, but knew who held her.
He stared down at her, his eyes wide with fear, his face drawn with lines of distress. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and realized her error. “Ow, that hurts.”
“It’s all right now, my love.” He carried her away from the coach. “You’re safe now.”
“Where is Ludlow?” She tried to lift her head to look around. “He jumped from the coach.”
“I saw that.” Rafe turned. “Harry’s got him. And North.”
Anthony rode up, leading a second horse. He dismounted and strode toward them. “All right, Anne?”
“Yes, just a nasty headache.”
“Thank God.” Anthony gazed at Rafe with admiration. “That was a hell of a leap.”
Anne turned her head to look up at Rafe. “What is he talking about?”
“I had to jump from the horse to the coach. I shot the brigand who was sitting on the coach box. When he fell, he took the coachman with him. Someone had to stop the vehicle.”
She couldn’t help but smile. Capable didn’t begin to describe this man. “How dashing.”
Another gunshot sounded, and Anne flinched. “What happened?”
Rafe started toward where Harry and North had been dealing with Ludlow.
“I can walk,” Anne said.
“But you aren’t going to.” Rafe quickened his pace.
“How is she?” Harry asked.
“Fine,” Anne answered. “Just a headache. What happened?” She craned her neck to see, but was having difficulty. “Would you please put me down?” she pleaded. “I’ll hold on to you, I promise.”
Rafe set her down, but held her tight against him. She gasped at the sight of her godfather sprawled on his back, blood spreading in a thick stain over his chest between the lapels of his coat.
