Page 114 of Twice Tempted by a Rogue

“Sabotage,” Bellamy breathed. “Faraday was right. Someone’s out to kill me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe Faraday himself. Maybe he had someone working on this while you were enjoying your tea and shortbread.”

“Ormaybe,”Rhys said, “the traces just snapped and not everything is about you.” He scoffed at the idea of Faraday’s decrepit servant crawling under the carriage with a file or rasp. “Bad luck, plain and simple.”

His curiosity finally overcoming his dizziness, Rhys peered down over the cliff. The ground fell away steeply. Far below, the sea chewed on the twisted wreckage with jaws of rock and wave. The entire coach had splintered to pieces. No man could have survived that fall.

Feeling suddenly breathless, he gave his cravat a vicious tug. The magnitude of the past few minutes’ events began to sink in. “Good God,” he said wonderingly. “I almost died.”

“We all did,” Bellamy said.

“Yes, but … that never happens to me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve come close dozens of times, but never like that. I really,trulyalmost died. I could not have saved myself.”

“I’ll take that as my outpouring of gratitude,” said Bellamy. “Are you always this churlish when someone saves your life?”

Rhys winced, thinking of Meredith. “Apparently.”

Cora indicated her own temple. “You’re bleeding, my lord.”

He touched a hand to his brow. His fingers came away wet with blood. Still huffing for breath as he straightened, Rhys reached for the handkerchief in his breast pocket.

Instead, his fingers closed over two odd-shaped coins.

He pulled one of them out and squinted at it. A thin disc of brass, stamped with a horse’s head on one side and its tail on the other. Leo Chatwick’s Stud Club token.

“Bellamy,” he said. “Heads or tails?”

“What are you on about?”

“It’s an experiment. Just call heads or tails.”

The man shrugged. “Tails.”

Rhys tossed the coin and caught it, slapping it flat against his wrist. When he removed his hand, the horse’s arse shining up at him seemed like the funniest goddamned thing he’d ever seen. Laughter rumbled from his chest. Leo always did love a good joke.

“Here. This one was Leo’s.” He tossed the token at a befuddled Bellamy, who caught it handily. “Now it’s yours. I lost.”

Who would have guessed it? By all things holy and profane, he’d lost. It would seem his cursed good luck had finally run out. He’d have to learn some new tricks—like the practice of caution. No longer would he stumble through the world, flipping that coin with “Life” on one side and “Death” on the other. He’d make his own fate now.

And Rhys knew just where—and with whom—he wanted to make it.

Chapter Twenty-seven

It was nearing noon when they returned to Buckleigh-in-the-Moor the next day, riding single file on the four draft horses. They must have been quite a sight. Villagers swarmed out of their houses to watch as, one by one, Rhys, Bellamy, Cora, and their much-abused driver clopped down the road and into the courtyard of the Three Hounds.

Rhys had hated stopping the night yesterday. Everything in him had wanted to return to Meredith as soon as possible. Fall on his knees, pledge his love, beg her forgiveness for everything. What words he’d employ in that effort, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Well, three particular words were a given. Beyond that, he just hoped for inspiration in the moment.

But Cora’s ankle had needed a doctor’s attention, and they’d each had small injuries to tend. There were other basic needs, too: rest, food, proper saddles. He’d forced himself to be patient, wait.

Now they were here, and he wasn’t waiting a second longer. The moment he slowed his horse, he dismounted and hurried toward the inn’s door.

He was intercepted by Gideon Myles. The man came tearing out from the entrance. His face was one big bruise, and his steps were hobbled, and his mien was determined. He was a man with a destination in mind.

And Rhys wasn’t it.

He brushed straight past Rhys and Bellamy both, rushing to help Cora down from her horse.

“Cora.” He tugged the girl into his arms, burying his face in her hair. “Cora, thank the Lord you’re back. I woke up and you were gone, and I didn’t have the strength to go after you …” He hugged her close. “I would have never let you leave. You’re not getting out of my sight again.”

Rhys harrumphed loudly.

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