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“I am so sorry.” Her tongue slurred the words, but she could not remain silent any longer. “If not for me, you would have captured Payne.”
“Do not say that. Do not even think that.” His hand came up to cup her face. “I did not race up this hill to capture Payne; I came to find you.”
“But you have been chasing him for years.” Tears filled her eyes. “And look at what he has done to your orchard.”
His thumb gently wiped away the first trickle of moisture on her cheek. “If it is all the same to you, I would rather not look.” He tilted her head so she could see his face. His features were indistinct, but she knew he was looking at her. “You, of all people, know how much those apple trees mean to me, so have you stopped to consider why I am not now in the orchard fighting the fire?”
She had not; she was still coming to terms with the miracle of his arrival on the hill.
“Why?” she asked.
“It is because the moment I arrived in the orchard and learned you were missing, my heart let me in on a secret it has been keeping from me for weeks. As much as I want to see Payne pay for what he did to my father and as much as I need those apple trees to secure my family’s finances, you, sweet Phoebe, are more important to me.”
Her tears were falling freely now. “But the reason I so desperately want to save the orchard and have Payne securely locked behind bars is because you are most important to me.”
His lips brushed hers. No matter the taste of dust and smoke, her heart leapt.
“Later.” His voice was low. “Later, we shall revisit this conversation.” And then his hands moved to her wrists. “We may have to wait a little longer for Payne, but, thanks to your father’s timely assistance, I think there is a good chance we can douse the fire before everything is lost.” He tugged on the kerchief, and pain radiated from her wrists to her fingertips. She stifled a moan and shut her mind to the throbbing. Seconds later, her hands were free.
Adam scrambled to his feet. His hand reached for hers. “Can you stand?”
Every part of her body hurt, but she rose straightway.
“How well do you know this path?” she asked, her grip on his hand tightening as the memories of her recent attempt to escape assailed her.
“Well enough to walk it blindfolded.”
“Then I shall not let go of you.”
He squeezed her fingers gently. “I am glad to hear it.”
Adam reclaimed his pistol from the base of the scrub oak, grateful that he’d thought to set it down at an easily identified spot. He slipped it into his pocket. There was no way of knowing where Payne was now. Adam could only pray that wherever he had gone, he would never return.
Forcing all thoughts of the villain behind him, Adam split his attention between following the footpath and what was happening in the orchard. The fire had spread. His chest ached as he viewed the inferno from the hillside. Almost a quarter of the orchard was now in flames. Shadows flitted back and forth between the trees and the river. Shouts carried on the breeze, punctuating the constant roar of the fire and emphasizing the sense of urgency hovering over the men and women fighting the blaze.
Reaching the last bend in the footpath before the ground leveled and entered Dunsbourne land, Adam increased his pace. At his side, Phoebe kept up. Not once had she complained about the speed at which they’d descended the hill. She had not uttered a word about the pain she must be feeling, even though he had felt the scratches on her face and the blood on her wrists with his own fingers. His admiration of her loyalty and courage swelled. He could not fathom what he had done to earn her affection, but he was determined to do all in his power to be worthy of it.
The number of those fighting the fires at the edge of the orchard had multiplied fourfold. People were passing buckets of water to each other from several spots in the river. The darkness made it almost impossible to identify anyone, but Adam searched the faces of those they rushed by, hunting for Emily or his housekeeper.
“Mrs. Foster will have taken care of Oliver by now. We must have her see to your injuries.”
Phoebe was breathing heavily. “I need no special attention, Adam. I—”
The distinctive sound of a gunshot coming from the direction of the house cut her words off. All those around them froze.
“Payne!” Adam released Phoebe’s hand and withdrew his pistol. “Stay here. He must not come near you or Emily.” Before she could respond, he took off, weaving through the stunned workers and their buckets, away from the fire and toward the manor.
The second gunshot sounded as he passed the stable. He slowed, approaching the corner of the house cautiously, working to regulate his ragged breathing. Leaning against the wall, he strained to hear anything over the crackling of the fire and the neighing of nervous horses.
“It’s over, Payne! Walk away.”
Toole. After working with the man for five years, Adam would know his voice anywhere.
“The life of Mr. Hadford in exchange for his carriage,” Payne said. “I daresay the gentleman’s wife and daughter value him over his conveyance.”
Adam tensed. Somehow, Payne had taken Hadford hostage. Based on the gunshots, he would guess the felon had also appropriated the gentleman’s gun. Toole was an excellent marksman. If he had taken a shot, Adam doubted Payne would still be standing.
Counting on the darkness to hide him, Adam inched around the corner of the building and crouched behind the rosebushes that lined the front of the house. From this vantage point, he could see two carriages parked in the drive. Both carried lanterns that illuminated the scene at the foot of the manor’s front steps. Payne stood directly behind Mr. Hadford and held a gun to the gentleman’s head. Mr. Hadford’s carriage was across from them, the driver sitting statuesque on the box, reins still in his hands.
