Page 93 of Foolish Bride
Hooves thundered into the yard outside the inn as Michael handed Elinor into the carriage. The horses brought with them a cloud of dust, obscuring the view of the riders.
He secured Elinor inside the carriage and stepped forward. The hair on his neck stood in anticipation of news he wouldn’t like.
Markus had taken the priest in a separate carriage and headed to London at first light. Thomas, Daniel, and Middleton waited for the dust to settle from the hasty arrival of James and his two men.
Breathless and grim-faced, Hardwig dismounted. “Your grace, I came as soon as I could to tell you Roxton escaped.”
“Escaped. You had ten men watching a fat pig of a man, and you couldn’t manage to keep hold of him for the trip to London?”
James’s face colored brightly. “I am sorry, your grace. He stabbed one of my men with his own sword, then ran into the woods with the weapon before anyone knew what had happened.”
“Your man, was he killed?” Preston asked.
Inspector Hardwig shook his head. “No but it will be some time before he’s fit for duty. That ridiculous man cut him and left him for dead.”
Thomas said, “I assume you are searching the area.”
“We’ve been searching all night. I brought in twice as many men. We have checked every farm house and stable, but have not found a trace of him beyond one hundred feet from where we lost him. I came to tell you to be alert.”
“I should think the man would get as far away from here as he can, while he can,” Preston said. “He’s probably headed for the coast.”
Michael knew that wasn’t the case. Roxton had a grudge, and losing Elinor only added to it. “No. James is right. He’ll come for me. He’s mad, and he thinks that I am the cause of his ruination. He won’t stop until he destroys me, and he will hurt anyone who is close to me to do it.”
From the carriage window, Elinor watched and listened. Her face had turned sheet-white and filled with fear. Hell, he too was afraid for her safety.
Hardwig remounted easily. In spite of his protruding belly, he was an accomplished rider. “I have to get back to the search, but you may want to hold up here until Roxton is found. The open road might offer him more opportunity.”
“I wish we could, James, but my brother’s injuries force me back to Marlton with haste. I cannot wait. Perhaps we can lead this horse to water on the road.”
James nodded. “I thought you might say that. I will leave these two men with you for extra protection. Have them scout ahead on the road.”
“Thank you. Any additional men can be useful. Hopefully, we won’t have need of them. I would not mind if Middleton were correct, and Roxton did the prudent thing and made for the coast.”
“I think we both know that is unlikely, given his state of mind,” James said.
Surveying the horses and carriage, Michael sent the two guards ahead to scout. He looked from Thomas to Daniel, and they nodded. Preston took his place behind the carriage with them, while Michael climbed into the vehicle and took the seat across from Elinor.
Sighing, she looked out the window and watched as the inn disappeared and the woods obscured any view.
The road was dangerous at the best of times. Highwaymen were lurking in the shadows. A party of their size was normally quite safe, but not today.
Elinor sighed again as she pushed her stubborn hair from her face. “I feel as though I am a child again, with monsters lurking in the wardrobe.”
Michael took her hand. He forced a smile, but it was a struggle to hold it, and he let it fade.
Wariness clouded her eyes.
The forest rolled by as they took the road to London.
* * * *
At midday, the rain began. The light drizzle tapping on the carriage roof lulled her to sleep. They galloped down the road, but the rain slowed them.
Her sleep was fitful, and her dreams of crumbling castle walls and red-haired madmen disturbing.
The carriage shifted, and Michael pulled her close. He warmed her and chased away the visions. Her sleep deepened, and she snuggled in closer, breathing in his warm male scent.
The carriage jerked to a stop, waking her. The rain was rapping on the roof harder. “Is something wrong, Michael?”
