Page 92 of Outrageous

The boy—and that’s what he was, for all that he was as big as a bloody house—scuttled back, shying away from Godric as if he didn’t outweigh him by at least five stone.

“It’s all right, Anthony. This is Godric—remember I told you about him?”

The boy hesitated before giving a frightened nod.

“He won’t hurt you, will you, Godric?” Andrew gave him a pointed look.

“No, of course not. I beg your pardon, Anthony, thank you for freeing Andrew.” The big, simple boy smiled tentatively. “We need two horses—do you know where we might find any nearby?”

He shook his head sadly.

“Goddammit,” Godric cursed, making the boy jump. “Er, sorry about that, Anthony.” He turned to Andrew. “You say she was going north?”

“Yes.”

He glanced at Anthony. “Did your father go to get the magistrate?” he asked, not holding out much hope for a sensible answer.

But the boy nodded vigorously.

“I think his father told him to hide, didn’t he, Andrew?”

Again the boy nodded.

Godric checked the pistol Andrew had handed him, peering through bleary eyes. “Well,” he said, once he’d assured himself it was loaded. “It will be better to go on foot than sit here. Indeed, a walk shall help clear my head.” He fixed Andrew with a speculative look. “You should go hide with Anthony and wait for Mr. Norton.”

Andrew drew himself up in a manner very reminiscent of the battle stance he usually took with Eva. “I don’t think I can do that, my lord.”

Godric sighed; nothing could ever be easy, could it?

Chapter 18

Eva found herself back in familiar territory, sitting in the heavy chair with a gun in her face. Luckily, Mrs. Crosby and Flynn hadn’t yet gotten around to tying her up or killing her or whatever it was they’d planned. Indeed, they’d been over in the corner arguing furiously while the woman kept the gun trained on her.

Mrs. Crosby was looking increasingly agitated, her hand shaking, which Eva felt could not be good for her health. It had taken her a good five minutes to convince the woman that she’d escaped without Paul’s help. Lord knew what the unhinged cook would do if she learned she’d been betrayed by her own henchman.

Their voices suddenly went from a whisper to a shout.

Or at least Mrs. Crosby’s did. “No!” She spun around, the gun now trained on Flynn. “I won’t do it—I don’t care what stupid promise you made. I want him here—I want him to watch while I kill somebody he loves.”

“Dora, this is a turrible big mistake—this kind o’ madness will bring the might o’ the government down on us.”

“I. Don’t. Care!”

“Yours is not the only opinion that matters,” Flynn bellowed back, finally losing his cool, spittle flying from his mouth. “Will you kill all o’ us for your own revenge?”

Her entire body shook, and even holding the gun with two hands, she could not keep it straight.

“Put down the gun, Dora. Let the girl go.”

Her arm began to sag and Eva had just begun to exhale the breath that was threatening to burst her lungs when Crosby’s arm swung around in a blur. Flynn, for all his bulk, tackled her just as her finger squeezed the trigger. The report was deafening in the small confines of the solid stone cottage. Eva saw chips of stone fly from at least three places as the bullet ricocheted, pulverizing whatever it impacted but thankfully stopping before it reached Eva’s skull.

Her head rang and she moved her jaw from side to side, as if that would clear her ears. Flynn was sitting on Crosby, who’d stopped fighting him, but was weeping so hard Eva could hear it despite her freshly traumatized ears.

Flynn looked over at Eva, his expression one of infinite sadness. Just then the door flew open and four or five men ran to their leader.

Eva could see that Flynn was shouting; clearly she wasn’t the only one deafened by the shot.

He ordered them to take Mrs. Crosby back to their camp. Not until they’d carried the still weeping woman from the room did the big highwayman turn back to Eva.