Page 70 of Unmasked By a Captivating Lady
He didn’t think. He sprinted after the man, hurtling towards him, fury blackening his heart.
The man was quick, and he wasn’t, with the fever upon him. Desperately, he tried to keep up with him. The world started to tilt dangerously. Twice, he stumbled.
He lunged, trying to grab him, but he remained tantalisingly out of reach. In one last ditch effort he hurled himself, managing to catch the hem of the man’s black cape, tripping him up.
Edward Stalk kicked out desperately. He felt a searing pain as the man’s black boot connected with his jaw. For a moment, he saw stars circling in his vision. But stubbornly, he clung to his cape, crawling upon the man, subduing him.
He had him. Edward Stalk’s face was almost purple with rage beneath him. He struggled, kicking and punching. It took all of the little strength that he had, to keep him pinioned beneath him. His vision started to blacken with the effort.
Just when he thought he couldn’t hang on to him for a second longer, he heard footsteps behind him. The other men had caught up. They pounced on the subdued prisoner, pressing him into the ground with all their might.
The backup had come not a moment too soon. Miles felt his strength suddenly ebb away, and he collapsed, clawing at the ground as the fever consumed him.
***
His eyelids fluttered open. He saw a blue sky, and overhanging tree branches. For a moment, he was utterly confused. Where on earth was he?
He could feel the fever still coursing slightly through his veins, but the wound on his arm was strangely cool. With difficulty, he stared at it.
His arm was exposed, and a poultice of thick green leaves was covering it. Wonderingly, he reached out a hand, touching it. The leaves were damp. He saw that the redness and swelling were still there, but they had diminished significantly.
“You are awake,” said a man’s voice, close by. “Thank the Lord. We thought that we were going to lose you for a while there…”
He turned his head, with difficulty. Bryson was sitting beside him, staring down at him.
“What happened?” he whispered, trying to sit up.
The man grinned. “You passed out, that’s what happened,” he said slowly. “You keeled over, from the fever, and the effort of struggling with the prisoner…”
Miles grimaced, trying to sit up. He was no longer dizzy. Tentatively, he touched his forehead. It wasn’t burning, like it had been. It seemed that against the odds, the plant poultice that Bryson had applied to his wound was actually working.
Abruptly, he swivelled around, staring. He couldn’t see the other men, or Edward Stalk.
“Did he escape?” he cried, his voice hoarse. He struggled to his feet. “We must pursue him…”
Bryson had got to his feet too but laid a restraining hand on his arm.
“He did not escape, my Lord,” he said slowly. “All is well. I instructed the others to keep going and get the prisoner to the Watch, while I stayed behind with you.” He paused. “They should be back any time now. It has been over two hours since they left.”
Miles swallowed his frustration with difficulty. He had promised Ara’s father that he would deliver the man to the Watch himself. And now, because of his wound, he had been unable to do it.
“I know that you wanted to deliver him yourself,” continued Bryson. “But in the circumstances, this was the best we could do. You simply were not capable of it, my Lord.” He hesitated. “And if I may be so bold to say it, I think you pushed yourself beyond your limits.”
Miles stared at the man. “I promised that I would do it…”
“Yes, you did,” said Bryson. “But you are in a weak condition. The fact that you rescued Miss Nott, and then accompanied us on this journey, was probably more than you were capable of anyway. You should not feel like you have failed. You stopped the prisoner escaping, when you were practically dead on your feet. That takes great strength of will, my Lord, and tells me all I need to know about what kind of man you are.”
Miles blinked rapidly. His guilt about not completing his task faded just a little, with the man’s words. It was true. He had been shot, and the wound was not healing well. He had pushed himself to his very limit, but his body had a mind of its own in the end.
He glanced around, anxiously. The other men had taken Stalk to the Watch, but anything might have happened in transit. Stalk had tried to escape once; what was to stop him trying again, and succeeding? Had they managed to get the prisoner to the destination?
But at that moment, he heard horses’ hooves, thundering down the track towards them. His heart started to hammer as he watched the riders descend. Bryson was already striding towards them. He took a deep breath, following.
The riders pulled up. He gazed at them, his heart hammering harder. There was no sign of Edward Stalk.
“Tell me,” he said slowly. “Tell me now. Is he in custody?”
One of the men nodded. “He is, my Lord. We delivered him safe and sound to the Watch. He is dealt with…”
