Page 177 of A Perilous Passion

Though the effort seemed to drain him, she could sense his urgency. He wasn’t safe yet. Throwing wide the stable door to give herself more light, she dragged at his boots, and as they slid off, something fell to the floor with a clink. A small bottle she recognized as the one she’d given him for his horse affliction.

She held it out and he managed to take it from her, but croaked, “Other…boot.”

She shook the other one, and something else fell out with a metallic ring. Thank heaven. A knife!

After a brief struggle, she cut the bonds that held his feet, then his wrists. As soon as he was free, he put the bottle to his mouth and drank some of the liquid. After a shake of his head, he seized the knife, heaved himself upright, and staggered to the doorway.

“Shall I go for help?” she asked, hurrying to support him.

Hushing her with a gesture, he gasped out, “Ssh! They could still be nearby. They mustn’t know you’re alone.”

He took a step forward, but she grasped the back of his shirt. “Don’t go out there. You can hardly breathe and your hands are shaking. You’re in no fit state to fight anyone.”

“Damn it. The brutes tied the knots too tight. I just need a moment for the blood to flow back.”

She was frantic. There was danger on Rafe’s very doorstep, and she felt powerless. She had no weapon, no experience, and Rafe could hardly be expected to protect them when he could hardly stand.

Suddenly, a blast of anger flashed through her. How dare they? How dare the traitors or the smugglers or whoever the perpetrators were truss Rafe up so cruelly? If the reaction he had to horses were any more severe, he’d have suffocated by now. Thank goodness for the nostrum. Already he was breathing a bit easier.

The men who’d done this were obviously not simple free traders who provided goods to those who couldn’t afford them otherwise. They were decidedly not dashing heroes, defying the money-grasping edicts of the king and his corrupt customs officials.

They were merciless brutes who would have tortured and killed a good, courageous man.

A man she loved.

Suddenly, help was at hand. Paynter, one hand on the back of his head and a grim look on his face, came lumbering up. “Sorry, sir,” he croaked. “Half cracked my skull open, they did. You’re soaked, sir—and you, too, Miss. What happened? Where’s Hamblett?”

Rafe sucked down another choking breath. “I sent him on an errand.”

“Where’s the new recruit?”

“Young hot-blood stormed off.”

Her heart sank, and her anger heightened. This was all Justin’s fault. If he’d stayed where he was supposed to, Rafe might not nearly have died.

Rafe was right. She should never have brought Justin here. By doing so, she’d inadvertently put Rafe’s life at risk.

“You’d better get dry, the pair of you,” Paynter advised. “It gets cold quick this time of year, soon as the sun goes down.”

“I want to look around first,” Rafe said. He turned and ran his gaze over her damp clothing. “Paynter, scour the house for villains, then get a fire lit for Miss Allston to dry herself by. I’ll not have her mama tear me apart because I’ve let her catch a chill.” He gave her a weary smile.

“You are not chasing after those men with just a knife,” she said crisply. He’d been so close to death. How could he think to risk himself again?

He pursed his lips. “Paynter, may I avail myself of one of your pistols?”

The man handed Rafe a gun from his pocket, tipped his battered cocked hat, and marched off toward the house.

“Oh dear,” she said, seeing the man’s blood-soaked collar. “Do you think I should go and patch him up?”

Rafe slid a hand down her soggy hip and pulled her to his side, curling an arm about her waist. “Maybe later. Nothing really oversets you, does it? I’ve not yet seen you faint, or scream and cry, or ask for the smelling salts, despite all the trials you’ve been through. You really are a remarkable young woman, Charlotte Allston.”

She gave him a shaky smile. “I was wondering how long it would take you to recognize that,” she replied.

“I am rather dense, aren’t I?” he agreed. “I wouldn’t willingly accept your help, but it seems I’ve never stopped needing it. You are always there for me, at exactly the right time.”

Warmth stole through her veins at his praise. This was a precious moment, one she’d awaited for far too long.

Unfortunately, there was no time to savor it. Paynter emerged from the farmhouse to say it was free of felons, and that he’d laid out some kindling in the master’s bedchamber.