Page 93 of A Perilous Passion

He rocked her in his arms, and soon she felt as if the world was empty but for the two of them, melded together like the strongest steel, one being, unbreakable.

When she finally found her voice, she asked, “Is it over?”

He kissed her hair. “Unfortunately, my love, it isn’t. I still have more battles to fight.”

Which meant he was going to leave her and risk his life again.

How was she going to bear it?

Chapter Forty-Two

An eternity passed before Rafe could bring himself to release his hold on Charlotte. He didn’t want the moment to end, but he needed to free her quickly and get her out of here. Who knew what other torments this night was liable to bring?

He eased back and kissed her gently. Her cheeks were wet—but from her tears, or his, he couldn’t say.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, struggling to keep the tremor from his voice. Moving behind her, he tugged at the cords that bound her hands, afraid to use Culverdale’s knife lest he cut her.

As he pulled at the knot he continued talking, in hopes of calming her. What she’d just been through was something no young woman should have to face, especially not his future wife.

For a brief moment, his fingers ceased their task.

She had agreed to marry him, hadn’t she?

“It’s coming,” he said, giving a final pull at the loop of cord. “There. Rest your hands on my shoulders while I release your feet. By God, you’re as cold as one of my Praxiteles statues. I’m so grateful I got here in time. Splendid—that’s you free.”

He stood and lifted her into his arms, and she struggled to drape her numb hands around his neck. When the blood came back it would be painful, and he’d need to chafe them for her. But not in this dreadful place.

He carried her through the door and pushed it shut before setting her on her feet. She wobbled, and he cursed the man who’d tied her up so cruelly.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to a fallen tree trunk. “Rub the blood back into your hands and feet while I deal with this piece of human cess.”

Kneeling by the limp form of the free trader he’d laid out upon arrival, he stripped off the man’s belt and kerchief and trussed him up so he couldn’t speak or move.

A small bunch of keys was attached to the man’s belt. “Good,” Rafe said, standing up and approaching the door. “One of these must be the icehouse.” He found the right key and locked the door. “This should keep his lordship out of trouble.”

“Are you sure he can’t escape?” Charlotte asked as he pocketed the keys.

“Not unless the fiend can climb concave walls, or happens to have a pick-lock about his person.”

“He had a knife.”

“He doesn’t now,” Rafe reassured her, patting his pocket. Correction. Jessop’s pocket. Soon he must head back to the coast, to find out how the ambush was going, though he wished with all his heart he didn’t have to leave her. The sight of Charlotte helpless in Culverdale’s hands had made him murderous. Only the fact that a living traitor was more use than a dead one had stayed his hand.

Charlotte looked horribly shaken.

Rafe said gently, “Don’t worry. His plan is collapsing even as we speak, making him less dangerous by the minute. Jessop’s at the beach in charge of the operation. I’ll make sure you get home safely, but then I must return to the fray. Here, take this. You’re shivering like mad.”

He shrugged out of Jessop’s uncomfortably tight jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

“Why are you wearing Justin’s jacket?” she asked, clearly puzzled. “And, if I’m not mistaken, his breeches and waistcoat?”

“A bit of subterfuge, to keep up the morale of the men. They don’t like their commanding officers disappearing off in the middle of a battle. Jessop is currently masquerading as me, with Goves to back him up. He’s managing well enough, I’m sure. We went over the plan a dozen times.”

“What plan? How on earth can Justin pretend to be you?”

“I’ll explain later. Do you think you could sit on a horse? I’ll lead it for you.”

“If you think it’s not going to send you into a sneezing fit.”