Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
‘I will be back for you, I swear it,’ I say, hauling myself up onto the horse’s naked back and yelling, breaking out at a hair-raising speed across the barren planes of land. I keep myself low, squinting to see ahead. I cannot see the horses, but I can see the dissipating clouds of dust they’re leaving in their wake. ‘Come on,’ I yell, kicking the horse’s rump as best I can. He responds beautifully, as if he senses my urgency, and I am soon gaining on the highwaymen. I see one of them look back, seeing me coming up behind. There is no way my horse will keep up this pace for much longer, and I am without all the tack I require to ride far. I have to end this chase.
Chase?
I laugh to myself. Has there ever been a member of high society turn the tables on any highwaymen? What is this madness I find myself in?
I draw closer, my stomach muscles aching somewhat terribly, and when my horse’s nose is level with my target’s thigh, I am about to start yelling, but his horse loses its footing momentarily. It is just a moment, but at this speed, a moment is all it takes. The rider yelps and is tossed from the back. ‘No,’ I roar, yanking at the reins to slow. I jump down and run back, breathless, worry overcoming me. The body – the dainty, fragile body – is in the dirt, sprawled and without a hint of life. ‘My God,’ I breathe, falling to my knees, my hands extending and retracting, not knowing what to do, to touch, move.
She is in Paris!
I must be going mad. I reach for the scarf hiding the rider and pull it down, praying I am mistaken. ‘No,’ I whisper when her beautiful face is revealed. ‘No, no, no!’ Her eyes are closed, her body still, but, thank God, I can see her chest rising. She is breathing. ‘Taya,’ I say, feeling at her face, patting and dabbing everywhere. ‘Taya, open your eyes. Open!’
She does not.
My heart begins to slow, my damn eyes prickling with tears, as I watch her chest begin to slow, her breathing getting shallower by the second. ‘You must not die!’ I yell. ‘Do you hear me? You must not, or, I swear it, I will never speak to you again.’ I take her shoulders and shake her. ‘Wake up!’
I look up and around, as though the empty land surrounding me for miles might be able to offer me some help. I see the other horseman approaching slowly, and though I cannot see his face in its entirety, I know it to be grave. ‘Is she breathing?’ he asks, his voice rough.
‘Hardly.’
‘You must get her to a doctor.’
‘How?’ I yell. ‘It will take me days to get us back to London.’
He jumps down from his horse and whistles, and Taya’s horse trots to us. ‘I will ride with you,’ he says, coming to us. ‘With two of us, we can share the weight so the horses get respite from the weight of two. It will cut our journey time considerably.’
I watch him as he dips and strokes Taya’s cheek, pulling his scarf down as he does. It is the same handsome man. Ruggedly so. It is no wonder Lady Rose was mesmerised. But who he is or where the other highway man is, for they always worked in a threesome, is not a priority. Taya’s life is. I have not broken laws and framed men, albeit unscrupulous men, to save her, just for her to die on me now.
Chapter 28
It took twelve hours to get back to London, the unnamed highwayman and I taking it in turns to carry Taya’s lifeless body draped over the horse. I am truly thankful she is unconscious, for I know not how she would have sustained the wretched journey otherwise. I barely have myself, worry overcoming me, my heart relentlessly pounding with fear.
On the edge of town, we come to a stop, as I assess the best route to the stables without being seen. To be seen would be to blow apart the story I manufactured to save Taya and our names.
It is dawn, the streets quiet, but we cannot risk it. ‘We need a hackney carriage,’ I say, motioning to one not too far away, stationary on the cobbles, the jarvey probably taking a nap.
He nods and kicks his horse, leaving me to go and hire the coach. I frown. ‘We’re hiring it, remember.’ I hear a gruff chuckle, and I look down at the back of my horse where Taya is draped. Guilt squeezes me. Why did I make chase? God damn me, why? Because I was scared that I would never see her again, but better not to see her than lose her to death. I clench my eyes closed and inhale. If I lose her, I will never survive it.