Page 150 of A Perilous Passion

His groan of pain made her wince, but she said crisply, “Be ruled by me, just this once, sir. I’m sure my plan will work.”

“You read too many Gothic novels, Miss Allston, as I said before,” he muttered. “But perhaps, just this once, you are right.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been dreadful staying here in the cold and the damp, waiting for nightfall, and knowing with every minute Rafe was losing more blood, growing weaker and less able to walk.

“Well, we do smell of wine, thanks to Jenny’s quick thinking with that bottle,” she said. “Anyone who gets close enough will easily believe we’re all in our cups. Jenny and I will let our hair down and carry our bonnets. Jenny, could you loosen your lacing at the front?”

There was a gasp from the girl, followed by a throaty chuckle from Rafe—which made her feel a lot better. If he could still laugh, he wasn’t dying.

“Your maid is scandalized by your suggestion,” he said. “Evidently, she values her modesty more than you do your own.”

Possibly true. Concerning him, admittedly, she had very little modesty left—especially after that kiss the other day. But the less anyone knew about that, the better.

“If you’re ready, we’ll get moving,” she said quickly. “I’ll go first.”

It was good to feel the chill of the rain on her burning cheeks. How could she possibly be thinking about Rafe’s touch, his lips on her face and her breasts, at such a desperate time? Shaking her head to clear it, she gazed about, trying to get her bearings.

“There’s an old sheep path just through there,” Jenny said, and pointed toward the edge of the wood. “I’ve been through Fox Wood in late summer looking for blackberries and cobs. The best can be found along that path.”

The track was barely wide enough for three, but they made their way as best they could, shielding Rafe from brambles and twigs with their bodies. Charlotte, now missing her stockings, came off worst—her ankles stung from the vicious swipe of bramble thorns, and she regularly had to tear her skirts free. Both she and her gown would need serious attention when they arrived back home.

As the outskirts of the village came within view, she paused and listened for any sign of alarm or unusual activity. When all seemed still, she staggered boldly out onto the road, pulling Rafe and Jenny with her, and struck out for home, praying they would reach it unseen.

Because if they were caught by Culverdale’s men, there would be no mercy.

For any of them.

Chapter Twenty-One

Rafe struggled to keep his weight off the shoulders of the women who held him upright, but balancing on one leg when dizzy from blood loss made him nauseous. He was cold, exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest by a leaping fire.

It was a difficult discovery that he was not unbreakable, and he cursed his body’s weakness, praying for a swift recovery. Regardless of Charlotte’s family history, he would not risk bringing the wrath of Culverdale and his cronies upon her. She’d saved his life tonight, for which he was eternally grateful.

Mrs. Allston and her sister responded quickly to the women’s frantic knocking.

“My dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Allston as Charlotte and Jenny struggled to get him through the door. “What’s befallen you all? Great heavens, it’s Lord Beckport! I thought I’d made my opinions about your—”

“Mr. Seabourne,” Charlotte corrected.

Before her mother could finish her tirade, Charlotte’s aunt said, “You’re all soaked to the skin. Come in quickly, out of the rain.”

Charlotte gestured to her mother to close and bolt the door. “We’re in very great trouble. Mr. Seabourne is injured. But no one must know that he’s here. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“Heavens. Why didn’t you say so at once? Jenny, stop panting and light the fire in the parlor. No, wait, you’re soaked to the skin. Run up and change. Flora will light it. Have you been in an accident?”

Rafe lifted his head to speak, but Charlotte cut in, saying, “No, Mama, we’re unharmed. But the gentleman has been shot in the thigh by Lord Culverdale.”

He screwed up his eyes with a silent groan. Had Charlotte learned nothing, after all his warnings? What further secrets of his was she going to expose?

Mrs. Allston flung up her hands. “What in the name of mercy has been going on? I’ll send Adam for a surgeon straight away.”

He finally found his voice. “No surgeon, I beg you, Mrs. Allston,” he rasped. “The fewer people who know of my presence here, the better. Please, send your daughter to get out of her wet clothes. I don’t want anyone else to suffer from this night’s misadventures.”

She looked him directly in the eye and pressed her lips together. “I know very well what you’ve been up to.”

He sincerely hoped not. He scowled at Charlotte.

She gave a quick shake of the head and put a finger to her lips.