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This was going to be one of the easiest rescues he’d ever done.
Gravel sputtered under his tires as he took off.
There was a car coming, one of those little compacts everyone in Europe seemed to drive. The driveway met the road about twenty yards downhill. She used the grade to her advantage, picking up speed, wincing when she hit an uneven bit of ground or a rock.
Right before she was getting ready to start waving her hands like a crazy person, the car—which was going way too fast on the little country road—skidded to a stop, gravel kicking up from under its tires.
The driver’s door opened and a handsome man jumped out. He raced around the front of the car and met her where the grass of the field gave way to dirt and gravel.
He looked at her bare feet, and without hesitation, stooped and put an arm under her knees, his other at her back. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the car.
Rose opened her mouth and then closed it. God bless good-hearted strangers.
When he got to the car, she reached down and pulled the handle. He pushed it open with his knee, then carefully set her in the passenger seat.
“Please put your seat belt on, ma’am.”
Rose blinked up at him, then fastened her seat belt. He closed her door. She watched him race around and jump into the driver’s seat.
Rose stared at the magnificent stranger, aghast in the best possible way. He was handsome, with vaguely Asian features. His hair was cut in a conservative side-part style and he wore clothes that looked pressed and fresh.
He put on his seat belt, checked his mirrors, and then gunned it, starting from second gear. The place where Weston’s drive met the road was in a small dip in the landscape. The house was up the hill on the right, and both in front of and behind them, the road rose up at a gentle incline.
For some insane reason, she started to giggle.
He shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye. “It’ll be okay, Ms. Hancock.”
Rose’s fingers clenched and she gasped. “What did you just say?”
“I was sent to rescue you.”
Gravel spat as the car gained speed. The man shifted gears with smooth grace.
“Rescue me?” There was a too-familiar sinking feeling in her stomach.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m glad I got here in time to aid you. Clearly you didn’t need rescuing since you escaped, but I’ll be able to help you from here.”
Rose’s dropped her right hand to the seat belt buckle. “Who sent you?” She hoped he didn’t hear the tension in her voice.
“A mutual friend,” he said carefully.
“Who?”
He didn’t reply. The little car crested the rise of the hill. The road turned gently to the right, keeping them within sight of the cottage.
“How do I know I can trust you?” she pushed.
“Our mutual friend wore an interesting piece of jewelry. A Celtic knot symbol with three points.” He paused, looking at her again, then added, “A triquetra.”
Rose slammed her fingers into the buckle, releasing the seat belt.
“Ms. Hancock!” He stomped on the brakes, reaching for her with his left hand. Rose dodged his hand and threw the door open. They were still moving fast, though the car was slowing. This was going to hurt.
She could handle pain.
Rose leapt from the moving car, aiming for the soft shoulder. She didn’t quite make it, hitting the gravel first. She skidded, then rolled off the gravel and onto dirt. Her momentum kept her going, and she rolled into a small ditch on the far side of the road.
She stared up at the blue sky and fat white clouds, opening and closing her mouth. The first impact had knocked the wind out of her and it took a moment for her body to remember how to breathe. She finally gulped in air. She was hurt, but didn’t have time to catalogue the pain.
