feel the warmth radiating from his body, but he didn’t touch her.
Her affianced husband. The thought was not quite as bizarre as it had been the night before. Voice low so as not to disturb the dawn peace, she asked, “Any sign of Crockett and his men?”
“I heard a pair of horses riding west along the road a little earlier. It might have been them. If the carriage harness was unrepairable, they might have split up and be heading in both directions.”
She shivered at the thought. “A good thing we’re traveling cross-country.”
“With luck, they’ll think you ran off into the hills and that you’ll die of exposure, being a helpless female on her own.”
“People do die like that in this wild country,” she agreed. “But surely Crockett will know I must have had help to escape?”
“Not necessarily. The fellow I hit on the head probably won’t remember exactly what happened. They might assume that you clipped him with a rock and cut the horses’ harness before you ran.”
“Would that I was so intrepid!” She bit her lip. “I hope Crockett didn’t hurt Haggerty for letting me escape.”
“There are better objects for compassion than Haggerty,” Randall said dryly. “Time we had a bite to eat and got started.”
Hoping Crockett would eventually decide she’d gone to her doom in the hills, Julia returned to the hut. They each had a couple of bites of bread and cheese and a swallow of cider. After Randall saddled and loaded the horse, he turned to help her into the saddle. “You’ll have to ride astride.”
She frowned, thinking of his bad leg. “Aren’t you going to ride?”
“Turk had a hard day yesterday,” he replied. “I don’t want to ruin him by riding double today. It’s only about ten miles to Carlisle. We should be there by early afternoon.”
Knowing better than to argue, she let him help her into the saddle. When she was settled, she tugged at her skirts, but they barely covered her knees. Randall’s gaze slid away from her indecent display of leg, for which she was grateful. Taking the horse’s reins, he headed into the hills away from the road.
They soon picked up a sheep track that led in the right direction. Mists pooled eerily over lower ground, gradually dissipating as the rising sun brought warmth and light to the wild landscape. She thought wryly that the ride would be pleasant if she wasn’t fleeing for her life, hungry, cold, and in dire need of a wash.
Major Randall was an easy companion, and he always knew exactly where he wanted to go. Sometimes they had to vary their course when a hillside became too steep, but he never hesitated in choosing a direction. After an hour or so of riding, she asked, “Do you have a compass?”
“The one in my head suffices. I never get lost.”
“That must have made you popular for leading patrols in the Peninsula.”
“It did. We always made it back to camp.” He gestured at the green hills. “It’s a pleasure to travel overland without having to worry about French cavalry.”
“I think I’d prefer the French to Crockett.” His limp was worsening. Guessing he would rather die than admit weakness, she said, “Hold up for a minute. I want to walk.”
He halted, but said, “You can stay in the saddle. You weigh so little that Grand Turk hardly notices.”
“I like walking. Especially since I spent yesterday cramped in a carriage with criminals.” She swung her right leg over the saddle and slid off. Turk was a tall horse, and she stumbled when she reached the ground. Randall caught her arm to steady her, letting go before a suffocating moment of discomfort could flair into something worse.
Glad she had been wearing sturdy half boots when she was abducted, she fell into step beside him as they resumed their trek. It felt good to stretch her legs. And very odd to be traveling toward her wedding to a near stranger.
This close, she saw the lines of pain in his face, and the limp was noticeably worse. “Grand
Her affianced husband. The thought was not quite as bizarre as it had been the night before. Voice low so as not to disturb the dawn peace, she asked, “Any sign of Crockett and his men?”
“I heard a pair of horses riding west along the road a little earlier. It might have been them. If the carriage harness was unrepairable, they might have split up and be heading in both directions.”
She shivered at the thought. “A good thing we’re traveling cross-country.”
“With luck, they’ll think you ran off into the hills and that you’ll die of exposure, being a helpless female on her own.”
“People do die like that in this wild country,” she agreed. “But surely Crockett will know I must have had help to escape?”
“Not necessarily. The fellow I hit on the head probably won’t remember exactly what happened. They might assume that you clipped him with a rock and cut the horses’ harness before you ran.”
“Would that I was so intrepid!” She bit her lip. “I hope Crockett didn’t hurt Haggerty for letting me escape.”
“There are better objects for compassion than Haggerty,” Randall said dryly. “Time we had a bite to eat and got started.”
Hoping Crockett would eventually decide she’d gone to her doom in the hills, Julia returned to the hut. They each had a couple of bites of bread and cheese and a swallow of cider. After Randall saddled and loaded the horse, he turned to help her into the saddle. “You’ll have to ride astride.”
She frowned, thinking of his bad leg. “Aren’t you going to ride?”
“Turk had a hard day yesterday,” he replied. “I don’t want to ruin him by riding double today. It’s only about ten miles to Carlisle. We should be there by early afternoon.”
Knowing better than to argue, she let him help her into the saddle. When she was settled, she tugged at her skirts, but they barely covered her knees. Randall’s gaze slid away from her indecent display of leg, for which she was grateful. Taking the horse’s reins, he headed into the hills away from the road.
They soon picked up a sheep track that led in the right direction. Mists pooled eerily over lower ground, gradually dissipating as the rising sun brought warmth and light to the wild landscape. She thought wryly that the ride would be pleasant if she wasn’t fleeing for her life, hungry, cold, and in dire need of a wash.
Major Randall was an easy companion, and he always knew exactly where he wanted to go. Sometimes they had to vary their course when a hillside became too steep, but he never hesitated in choosing a direction. After an hour or so of riding, she asked, “Do you have a compass?”
“The one in my head suffices. I never get lost.”
“That must have made you popular for leading patrols in the Peninsula.”
“It did. We always made it back to camp.” He gestured at the green hills. “It’s a pleasure to travel overland without having to worry about French cavalry.”
“I think I’d prefer the French to Crockett.” His limp was worsening. Guessing he would rather die than admit weakness, she said, “Hold up for a minute. I want to walk.”
He halted, but said, “You can stay in the saddle. You weigh so little that Grand Turk hardly notices.”
“I like walking. Especially since I spent yesterday cramped in a carriage with criminals.” She swung her right leg over the saddle and slid off. Turk was a tall horse, and she stumbled when she reached the ground. Randall caught her arm to steady her, letting go before a suffocating moment of discomfort could flair into something worse.
Glad she had been wearing sturdy half boots when she was abducted, she fell into step beside him as they resumed their trek. It felt good to stretch her legs. And very odd to be traveling toward her wedding to a near stranger.
This close, she saw the lines of pain in his face, and the limp was noticeably worse. “Grand
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