Page 15 of The Gift of Patience
As she kneeled down to inspect her hooves for stones, she was assailed by the eerie feeling she had felt there before. At least this time she was not alone. She looked around from her vantage point below the horse and saw a pair of black eyes staring back at her. She opened her mouth to scream, but he took his hand and swiped it across his throat, warning her, and her throat seemed to freeze.
She turned to see if Westwood or Major Stuart had noticed, but they were too busy talking to each other. She turned back, and the man was gone.
“There! Over there, he’s getting away!” she yelled, finally finding her voice.
Westwood and Stuart rushed to her side. “Who is there?”
“A man with black eyes. He was just there in a brown coat with a brown hat, standing behind that tree!”
“Return to the stables at once and tell the others!” Westwood ordered as they took off after him, but her feet did not want to move. Some adventuress she was turning out to be! She’d waited too late to alert them, and could only hope they caught the man.
She was afraid to stay and afraid to leave. But she had to go for help.
The fearof what could have happened to Miss Whitford thrust him into action. It was the anger that kept him in hot pursuit.
If he’d been close enough for her to describe his clothes and the colour of his eyes…
He knew there had to be more to this than mere vagrancy. No one would risk being caught on a lord’s land twice unless there was a very good reason.
This was not Ashley’s first pursuit, and when one was in a hurry, they made mistakes. Westwood, while not having Ashley’s experience soldiering and spying, instinctively knew to go the other direction, that one of them was bound to cut him off before they reached the river. They had the advantage of spending a great deal of time there in their youth.
Ashley could see where the man had run. When he was not being careful, he left broken branches and footprints in his wake. He was a dead man.
Ashley had a fairly good idea of where the man was headed, and he veered right to cut him off. It was a gamble, but with Dom on the other side, it was a good one. Brushing low branches and wet leaves from his path, it was a challenge to move quickly whilst looking ahead.
He heard him before he saw him. Exertions from the chase caused the man to breathe heavy—much like Ashley himself was doing. He pulled his pistol from his waistband, hoping it would not be needed. The man was of much more use to them alive than dead—but was likely armed himself if he was guarding the cargo they suspected him of doing.
Ashley took a deep breath and pushed harder, knowing that he was close, tasting victory.
He caught a flash of brown and knew he would catch the man. His sides burned and ached, but he would not lose. The man turned to see how far his pursuers were and that was a fatal mistake.
Ashley lunged and caught the man’s foot, causing him to go down into the mud. Immediately, Ashley was upon him, knee in his back and forcing his hands behind him. After that chase, he did not relish any hand-to-hand combat or fisticuffs. This man would fight to the death. Dominic was upon them in a matter of seconds. He loosened his neckcloth and took it off, binding the man’s hands while he fought and thrashed at his captors.
Ashley paused to catch his breath. From past experience, it would be some time before the deep inhalations did not hurt. Dominic looked over the man’s head in question, but Ashley shook his head.
He would not bother to question the man now, anyway. He’d rather leave him wondering when the axe would fall. And fall it would, under the expert interrogation of his troop. He prayed they arrived soon.
Ashley spared no more breath than to order the man up to his feet. Westwood found the man’s pistol that had flown a few feet away when he’d gone down. Ashley could sense that he thought about arguing, but one sensation of the pistol shoved into his back made him cooperate quickly enough.
They trudged slowly back through the woods until they reached the clearing. Dominic unhitched their horses and began to lead them back. The mile-long path that had never felt long before seemed to stretch on endlessly, but Ashley did have time to catch his breath.
When they reached the stables, a more welcome sight he could not imagine as he saw Colonel Renforth and the others of his troop speaking with Miss Whitford.
“Major!” his commander called. “We were just about to set forth to search. I assume this is what you were after?”
The prisoner looked down and did not make eye contact. Ashley nodded. “Indeed.” He turned to his brother. “Where may we take him?”
“Part of me wants to suggest the dovecote,” Westwood returned.
“Not a bad suggestion, but the guards would perhaps not be so comfortable standing watch in the weather. There are plenty of rooms within the stables, and he would be well-guarded there.”
“I will take a turn with him,” Baines remarked with relish.
“We will join you shortly,” Renforth agreed with a nod.
Baines took the prisoner into the stable block, the head groom leading the way.
Ashley could not say that he was sad to be relieved. He noticed that Miss Whitford looked pale and shaken. Perhaps her taste for meddling would lessen after this, though being face-to-face with a criminal was no small matter. She had been brave enough to call out, after all.
