Page 95 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
“Get down!” Gerard’s hoarse shout confirmed her horrifying conclusion. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Had they happened upon bandits?
Or worse?
Another sharp report rang out. The carriage shuddered to a halt. The roar of Gerard’s long gun thundered against her ears. Snatching her revolver from her traveling bag, she dropped to the floor, pulled in a breath, and prepared to pull the trigger.
A peculiar silence fell over the coach. The hammering of her own pulse nearly deafened her. She peered over the side of the carriage.
Dear God!Gerard lay crumpled several feet beyond the front wheel of the carriage. She saw no blood, but the sight of his still body threatened to gut her fragile courage.
A hulk of a man moved into view.Munro.How had he known their path?
Ross trailed his movements, his steps more cautious than his burly conspirator. “She’s in the coach. Who the hell is this bloke?”
Munro nudged Gerard with the toe of his boot. “Damned if I know. Some unlucky bastard she hired t’drive her, I suspect.” He stared down at the unconscious man. Shadows from the trees concealed Gerard’s features—his youth—as waning sunlight flickered through the leaves and over the gray strands of his hair.
Ross confiscated the long gun. “She must’ve paid well. He came prepared.”
“No sign of that son of a bitch, MacMasters.”
Raking a hand through a greasy mop of hair, Munro turned from Gerard. She saw the blood then, trickling from Gerard’s forehead. Nauseous bile rose to her throat. She choked it back.
No!
The word played in her thoughts, over and over, a litany of horror. Gerard could not be dead. It wasn’t possible. He’d put his own neck on the block to rescue Laurel, even after he and his brother had the family’s damned precious stone. And now, he’d paid the price.
She pressed her knuckles to her mouth. Perhaps he still breathed. Perhaps—
Munro approached the carriage. Johanna lowered her pistol and slipped it into her traveling bag. As much as she despised the leering face that met her gaze, she could not turn her weapon on him. The bastard would be no help to her dead. She needed him to take her to Cranston.
His filthy hand tore open the door. Summoning what remained of her strength, Johanna prayed for the ability to lie to these despicable souls without flinching.
“Well, well, if it ain’t the esteemed Miss Templeton.” The sneer on Munro’s face made his mouth slant crookedly, exaggerating the unevenness of his blunt features.
She steadied her breath. “Attacking my driver was quite unnecessary. He was only a hired man, conveying me to your employer.”
Munro shrugged. “That old mon’s the least of yer concerns now. We’ve been lookin’ fer ye. Cranston has not been pleased by the delay.” He pointed to a fresh cut on his cheek, a vicious slice over the bone. If the oaf lived long enough, he’d have quite an ugly scar. “Next time, he’ll take my ear. I cannae part with it. Ye’re coming with us.”
“If you had not assaulted my driver, I would be on my way at this very moment. Where, precisely, did the two of you believe I was going in this godforsaken patch of wilderness?”
“I dinnae give a bluidy damn if ye were heading t’a picnic with the Duke of Clarence.”
He attempted to take her elbow, as if to pretend he was a gentleman assisting a lady, but she evaded his touch.
“I assure you, I need no help from the likes of you,” she spoke crisply. A miracle, that, given how her pulse raced with desperation.
She stepped from the coach. Her gaze shot to Gerard, careful not to linger lest she betray any feeling beyond the most basic compassion. She could make out the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
He was still alive!
Relief cascaded over her, but she tamped it down to resemble nothing beyond human decency. Composing her features into a bland mask, she moved closer, but Ross blocked her with an outstretched arm.
She stared at the obstruction as if he’d dangled refuse beneath her nose. “I will need to assist my driver before we depart.”
Ross shook his head. “The bloke’s still breathing. If you want him to stay that way, you’ll come with us now.”
“Very well.” She decided not to press the matter. Anything that drew attention to Gerard would endanger his chances for survival far more than her unskilled attention might enhance his odds.
She turned to the carriage. “The coach appears serviceable enough. Perhaps your associate might drive us.”
