admit that now she felt closer to him, and their conversation did help to pass the time. Dawn was just beginning to press against the horizon and she yawned, tired beyond words.
“You need to rest,” he said again. “Come here. No sense in both of us being uncomfortable.”
Beatrice scooted closer and he pulled her into his arms. She rested there and was surprised at how natural it felt, how warm and safe. Odd, how she’d never doubted Michael. He was a steadfast, steady friend.
Of course, if anyone of the upper crust saw them together like that, they would cry out scandal and she’d be ostracized for certain.
Bea bit down on that thought. She was lucky enough to have escaped public humiliation once already. No need to dwell on it.
“I know I’ve not been the best friend to you over the years,” she told him, “but I want to thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m happy to help you. And I owe Ash my life a dozen times over. The extra bonus of spending a few days with so dear a friend as you, Beatrice, is always welcome.”
Bea let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding in. “Still, you’re very good for doing it.”
That was the very last thing she remembered as she drifted off to sleep, secure in Michael’s arms. It was a cozy place, one that she thought she might have been meant to be in all along.
It was in that state, safe, protected in the small world of the carriage, that her life turned upside down. Despite Ash’s and Michael’s warnings, deep down, she hadn’t thought that the threats against her were real. It was absurd to think that a man she barely knew—a danger that others had warned her of but that she never truly believed in—was real. That was, until the very next moment…
A loud explosion shattered her slumber. An intrusive, bone-rattling sound engulfed them. Bea suddenly came awake to the sound of her own screaming.
In the next instant, the carriage, which had been going at a fast pace, suddenly tipped sideways, and before she knew what was happening, they were rolling, one, two, three times over before the barouche landed with a mind-numbing crunch on one side.
When they’d begun the roll, she and Michael had become a tangle of limbs. Her head hit sharp against his elbow, rapping her smartly and leaving her dazed.
The motion stopped and she awoke with Michael lying on top of her. She started to struggle, but Michael put his hand over her mouth.
“Shhh,” he said, and she relaxed under him. Without a word, he moved over her and crept to the side of the carriage, placing his ear against what was the top of the cab. Waving her over, he waited until she righted herself and crawled to kneel beside him.
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his pistol and primed it. Then, reaching into his boot, he pulled out a small blade and handed it to her.
“If anyone tries to come in here besides me, protect yourself.” He pointed to the juncture between his leg and his groin. “Cut him there and stand back because the blood will be everywhere, but he won’t last more than ten minutes.”
“Oh.” Bea covered her mouth. “I hope I won’t have to do that.”
“But if you have to, could you?”
Her life or some highwayman’s? “I’ll do as I must,” she answered. She looked around. “Wait.” She scrambled around her until she found her maid, crumpled on the other side of the wagon. “Something’s wrong with her…”
Michael bent down beside her and checked the maid. He let out a breath and then turned to Bea.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “She’s gone.”
Bea’s heart sank. “Oh, no. I cannot believe all this.”
Michael held up his hand. “I need to check the others. Will you be all right?”
“Yes.”
He nodded to her and then, slowly standing, he reached upward to grasp the handle and then twisted it sideways. Securing one foot on the bench, he pushed open the door and climbed out of the carriage.
“You need to rest,” he said again. “Come here. No sense in both of us being uncomfortable.”
Beatrice scooted closer and he pulled her into his arms. She rested there and was surprised at how natural it felt, how warm and safe. Odd, how she’d never doubted Michael. He was a steadfast, steady friend.
Of course, if anyone of the upper crust saw them together like that, they would cry out scandal and she’d be ostracized for certain.
Bea bit down on that thought. She was lucky enough to have escaped public humiliation once already. No need to dwell on it.
“I know I’ve not been the best friend to you over the years,” she told him, “but I want to thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m happy to help you. And I owe Ash my life a dozen times over. The extra bonus of spending a few days with so dear a friend as you, Beatrice, is always welcome.”
Bea let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding in. “Still, you’re very good for doing it.”
That was the very last thing she remembered as she drifted off to sleep, secure in Michael’s arms. It was a cozy place, one that she thought she might have been meant to be in all along.
It was in that state, safe, protected in the small world of the carriage, that her life turned upside down. Despite Ash’s and Michael’s warnings, deep down, she hadn’t thought that the threats against her were real. It was absurd to think that a man she barely knew—a danger that others had warned her of but that she never truly believed in—was real. That was, until the very next moment…
A loud explosion shattered her slumber. An intrusive, bone-rattling sound engulfed them. Bea suddenly came awake to the sound of her own screaming.
In the next instant, the carriage, which had been going at a fast pace, suddenly tipped sideways, and before she knew what was happening, they were rolling, one, two, three times over before the barouche landed with a mind-numbing crunch on one side.
When they’d begun the roll, she and Michael had become a tangle of limbs. Her head hit sharp against his elbow, rapping her smartly and leaving her dazed.
The motion stopped and she awoke with Michael lying on top of her. She started to struggle, but Michael put his hand over her mouth.
“Shhh,” he said, and she relaxed under him. Without a word, he moved over her and crept to the side of the carriage, placing his ear against what was the top of the cab. Waving her over, he waited until she righted herself and crawled to kneel beside him.
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his pistol and primed it. Then, reaching into his boot, he pulled out a small blade and handed it to her.
“If anyone tries to come in here besides me, protect yourself.” He pointed to the juncture between his leg and his groin. “Cut him there and stand back because the blood will be everywhere, but he won’t last more than ten minutes.”
“Oh.” Bea covered her mouth. “I hope I won’t have to do that.”
“But if you have to, could you?”
Her life or some highwayman’s? “I’ll do as I must,” she answered. She looked around. “Wait.” She scrambled around her until she found her maid, crumpled on the other side of the wagon. “Something’s wrong with her…”
Michael bent down beside her and checked the maid. He let out a breath and then turned to Bea.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “She’s gone.”
Bea’s heart sank. “Oh, no. I cannot believe all this.”
Michael held up his hand. “I need to check the others. Will you be all right?”
“Yes.”
He nodded to her and then, slowly standing, he reached upward to grasp the handle and then twisted it sideways. Securing one foot on the bench, he pushed open the door and climbed out of the carriage.
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