bonnet and cloak were sodden. She could just see the lights of Wycherley Hall, dimly shining through the mist and rain.
The Earl.
Lucas
. She suddenly stopped and pressed her palm to her forehead.
Why
had Lucas come here today of all days? Had he come to gloat? To satisfy himself that he could still reduce her to a quivering, needy mess, by just being near her?
And—her face burned anew—she had let him think she might accept Martin Bryant’s proposal! Oh, what a foolish, stupid lie! Well, soon he would be going back to his London parties, to join his friends of the Prince’s set, with his loose-living companion Alec Stewart. She would never see Lucas again, and nothing could give her greater pleasure than his complete
absence
from her life!
That was a lie, too. The terrible ache in her heart told her so.
The danger erupted so suddenly. One moment she was quite alone. The next, three heavily cloaked men were crashing through the thicket beside the path towards her, with pistols gleaming in the lantern light. Something like a blanket was thrown over her face, so she could not see, could not breathe. The lantern was snatched from her. Hands were grabbing at her roughly, hurting her.
She remembered in those brief, terrifying moments the sensation of so often being followed, remembered the break-in at Wycherley Hall. Fight as she might, they were pulling her, hustling her towards the trees. Smugglers? But why attack
her?
And she thought she heard them muttering,
‘C’est elle. C’est la fille’.
Her blood froze.
Then she heard a man’s voice roaring, ‘Verena!’
She heard the sound of a gun exploding within a few feet of her and realised the restraining hands were gone. Pulling the blanket from her face, gasping for air, she sawthe three cloaked men running off, heads low, into the dark woods.
‘Verena!’
The same desperate male voice, close now.
Turning, she saw Lucas, his long coat and hair glistening with the rain, standing there with a gun in his hand. At first she did not understand. At first she thought he was the one who had fired.
Then she realised that Lucas was sinking very slowly to his knees, and where he clutched his left hand to his arm, bright blood was welling through his fingers.
Chapter Six
L ucas was kneeling on the ground. She ran to crouch beside him, her heart hammering.
‘Lucas
. Oh, we must get your coat off’. Her voice shook with emotion. ‘We must tie something around your injury, I must get help!’
‘They told me you’d gone down to the beach—alone!’ he grated out. ‘How could you have been so—so
foolish?’
‘Foolish?’ she cried. She felt faint with fear. ‘Some militia men were threatening our villagers—was it
foolish
to try to protect them?’ She was striving, with trembling fingers, to ease his coat from his shoulder, but she could see the perspiration pouring from his forehead, indicating his pain.
He is your enemy
, she reminded herself,
your family’s enemy.
‘Who were your attackers?’ he rasped.
‘I’ve no idea. Not smugglers, definitely not—’ she was thinking of the danger Billy and his friends might be in ‘—so they must have been robbers, and it was my misfortune to be in their way’.
‘I never thought they were smugglers,’ Lucas said bluntly.‘Smugglers don’t attack innocent girls. And they were not robbers either. Verena, they were trying to drag you away. Did you hear them speak?’
Swiftly she tore aside the fabric of his shirt and pressed her clean folded handkerchief to the wound, remembering Colonel Harrap’s warning:
If I should find proof that some French villains have indeed landed, there’ll be the devil to pay!
‘They sounded like Portsmouth men,’ she lied. ‘I heard a few words I wouldn’t care to repeat, I’m afraid—’ Then she realised that his blood was still welling through her handkerchief.
Oh, no
. ‘Have you got anything else I can bind it with?’ she asked rather faintly.
‘There’s
The Earl.
Lucas
. She suddenly stopped and pressed her palm to her forehead.
Why
had Lucas come here today of all days? Had he come to gloat? To satisfy himself that he could still reduce her to a quivering, needy mess, by just being near her?
And—her face burned anew—she had let him think she might accept Martin Bryant’s proposal! Oh, what a foolish, stupid lie! Well, soon he would be going back to his London parties, to join his friends of the Prince’s set, with his loose-living companion Alec Stewart. She would never see Lucas again, and nothing could give her greater pleasure than his complete
absence
from her life!
That was a lie, too. The terrible ache in her heart told her so.
The danger erupted so suddenly. One moment she was quite alone. The next, three heavily cloaked men were crashing through the thicket beside the path towards her, with pistols gleaming in the lantern light. Something like a blanket was thrown over her face, so she could not see, could not breathe. The lantern was snatched from her. Hands were grabbing at her roughly, hurting her.
She remembered in those brief, terrifying moments the sensation of so often being followed, remembered the break-in at Wycherley Hall. Fight as she might, they were pulling her, hustling her towards the trees. Smugglers? But why attack
her?
And she thought she heard them muttering,
‘C’est elle. C’est la fille’.
Her blood froze.
Then she heard a man’s voice roaring, ‘Verena!’
She heard the sound of a gun exploding within a few feet of her and realised the restraining hands were gone. Pulling the blanket from her face, gasping for air, she sawthe three cloaked men running off, heads low, into the dark woods.
‘Verena!’
The same desperate male voice, close now.
Turning, she saw Lucas, his long coat and hair glistening with the rain, standing there with a gun in his hand. At first she did not understand. At first she thought he was the one who had fired.
Then she realised that Lucas was sinking very slowly to his knees, and where he clutched his left hand to his arm, bright blood was welling through his fingers.
Chapter Six
L ucas was kneeling on the ground. She ran to crouch beside him, her heart hammering.
‘Lucas
. Oh, we must get your coat off’. Her voice shook with emotion. ‘We must tie something around your injury, I must get help!’
‘They told me you’d gone down to the beach—alone!’ he grated out. ‘How could you have been so—so
foolish?’
‘Foolish?’ she cried. She felt faint with fear. ‘Some militia men were threatening our villagers—was it
foolish
to try to protect them?’ She was striving, with trembling fingers, to ease his coat from his shoulder, but she could see the perspiration pouring from his forehead, indicating his pain.
He is your enemy
, she reminded herself,
your family’s enemy.
‘Who were your attackers?’ he rasped.
‘I’ve no idea. Not smugglers, definitely not—’ she was thinking of the danger Billy and his friends might be in ‘—so they must have been robbers, and it was my misfortune to be in their way’.
‘I never thought they were smugglers,’ Lucas said bluntly.‘Smugglers don’t attack innocent girls. And they were not robbers either. Verena, they were trying to drag you away. Did you hear them speak?’
Swiftly she tore aside the fabric of his shirt and pressed her clean folded handkerchief to the wound, remembering Colonel Harrap’s warning:
If I should find proof that some French villains have indeed landed, there’ll be the devil to pay!
‘They sounded like Portsmouth men,’ she lied. ‘I heard a few words I wouldn’t care to repeat, I’m afraid—’ Then she realised that his blood was still welling through her handkerchief.
Oh, no
. ‘Have you got anything else I can bind it with?’ she asked rather faintly.
‘There’s
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