fact that Lord Dalton might also take a late-night walk to the bridge. She would not put it past him to assume she was a local wench who would also be on the lookout for him. But she felt secure in the knowledge that she would be back long before he retired for the night. Even should he claim fatigue after the drawing room and not join Sir John privately for brandy and billiards, she had at least an hour.
The thought cheered her as none had that day. She would allow herself this one extra hour of complete freedom before she subjected herself to the next fortnight of frustration and the knowledge that had she not allowed Lord Salford to whisk her away, she might even belong to Lord Dalton today.
Kathryn slipped her dark cloak over her shoulders, pulled the hood loosely up over her head and left her room. She looked both ways and took the hallway to the servant’s staircase to the kitchen, where she could slip out unnoticed.
* * *
His Bible was doing him little good this night. He could not concentrate on the words for all of the noise in his head.
He could not sit still any longer; he had to get out of this room. He would walk to the bridge again. He knew it was far too early to expect his late-night visitor, if indeed she intended to visit at all. That was not his purpose in going. He only wanted some air.
So he took up his position at last night’s tree, listening to the gurgling water and taking in deep breaths of the country breezes. He could not resume his search for his fairy, but if there was any chance of seeing her or finding out her identity, he would take it.
Dalton’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scream, cut off hastily, on the other side of the bridge. As he pushed away from the solid trunk and stepped quietly onto the ancient structure, the sight that met his eyes stopped his heart.
Chapter Five
D alton froze. It was her, the woman he had met last night, but in no way situated as he had imagined. There on the other end of the span, less than one hundred feet from him, she stood with her head held tightly against the bridge’s stone pillar with a hand covering her mouth. Dalton could only be thankful that the hood that covered her head might provide a small cushion as her attacker held her so tightly against the stones.
She was imprisoned by the weight of a man’s body, and her neck arched to avoid the knife pressed dangerously close to her skin. He could tangibly feel her terror.
He pulled up short, his heart no longer stopped, but beating very fast. Dear Lord, You are more than capable of protecting this woman, but if Your way of protecting her involves me, show me the way. He had hoped to surprise her attacker by stealth, but the woman saw him from under the folds of her hood. That single glance in his direction gave his presence away.
The man wielding the knife had complete control over the woman, but he turned his lecherous gaze to Lord Dalton. “Stay where ye are or I’ll slit ’er throat, don’t think I won’t. Even in the dark, it looks too purty to scar.”
The cur’s voice was raspy and common, and Dalton heard the girl’s slight whimpers as he pushed the point of his dagger just a little farther into her skin.
“Let her go,” Dalton said, his command in deadly earnest. Anyone who knew him would have followed those orders instantly. His opponent, however, though now more hesitant, did not know enough to recognize the menace in his words.
Instead, the assailant laughed and seemed to wedge his knee tighter against the woman’s fragile frame, effectively pinning her closer and, no doubt, making breathing even more difficult for her. “It don’t seem to me you be the one in the position to be hagglin’ now does it? Looks like this be my lucky night. I found me a purty wench with a rich cove to pay for ’er life!”
“There will be no bargaining. You will let her go or I will kill you.” Evil was evil, whether in wartime or not.
Dalton thought the woman
The thought cheered her as none had that day. She would allow herself this one extra hour of complete freedom before she subjected herself to the next fortnight of frustration and the knowledge that had she not allowed Lord Salford to whisk her away, she might even belong to Lord Dalton today.
Kathryn slipped her dark cloak over her shoulders, pulled the hood loosely up over her head and left her room. She looked both ways and took the hallway to the servant’s staircase to the kitchen, where she could slip out unnoticed.
* * *
His Bible was doing him little good this night. He could not concentrate on the words for all of the noise in his head.
He could not sit still any longer; he had to get out of this room. He would walk to the bridge again. He knew it was far too early to expect his late-night visitor, if indeed she intended to visit at all. That was not his purpose in going. He only wanted some air.
So he took up his position at last night’s tree, listening to the gurgling water and taking in deep breaths of the country breezes. He could not resume his search for his fairy, but if there was any chance of seeing her or finding out her identity, he would take it.
Dalton’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scream, cut off hastily, on the other side of the bridge. As he pushed away from the solid trunk and stepped quietly onto the ancient structure, the sight that met his eyes stopped his heart.
Chapter Five
D alton froze. It was her, the woman he had met last night, but in no way situated as he had imagined. There on the other end of the span, less than one hundred feet from him, she stood with her head held tightly against the bridge’s stone pillar with a hand covering her mouth. Dalton could only be thankful that the hood that covered her head might provide a small cushion as her attacker held her so tightly against the stones.
She was imprisoned by the weight of a man’s body, and her neck arched to avoid the knife pressed dangerously close to her skin. He could tangibly feel her terror.
He pulled up short, his heart no longer stopped, but beating very fast. Dear Lord, You are more than capable of protecting this woman, but if Your way of protecting her involves me, show me the way. He had hoped to surprise her attacker by stealth, but the woman saw him from under the folds of her hood. That single glance in his direction gave his presence away.
The man wielding the knife had complete control over the woman, but he turned his lecherous gaze to Lord Dalton. “Stay where ye are or I’ll slit ’er throat, don’t think I won’t. Even in the dark, it looks too purty to scar.”
The cur’s voice was raspy and common, and Dalton heard the girl’s slight whimpers as he pushed the point of his dagger just a little farther into her skin.
“Let her go,” Dalton said, his command in deadly earnest. Anyone who knew him would have followed those orders instantly. His opponent, however, though now more hesitant, did not know enough to recognize the menace in his words.
Instead, the assailant laughed and seemed to wedge his knee tighter against the woman’s fragile frame, effectively pinning her closer and, no doubt, making breathing even more difficult for her. “It don’t seem to me you be the one in the position to be hagglin’ now does it? Looks like this be my lucky night. I found me a purty wench with a rich cove to pay for ’er life!”
“There will be no bargaining. You will let her go or I will kill you.” Evil was evil, whether in wartime or not.
Dalton thought the woman
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