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Melissa’s smile widened. “This place is nice, too.”

William looked around the small and dark cottage with drafty windows and low ceilings. “Yes, well, the new one will be better.” William cleared his throat. “How is Neville?”

Melissa’s face instantly split into a smile. “He is better. The fever has finally broken this afternoon.”

“Wonderful news!”

“Yes, but he is sleeping now. Which is also good, I suppose. Now you don’t have to visit as often,” she added softly.

“I would visit more if I could,” William said awkwardly. “But I already feel as if I’ve put you in enough danger.”

“You didn’t,” she reassured. “Would you like to stay for supper?”

“I would love to,” he said, his tension suddenly dissipating and warmth enveloped his being. “However, I have… um… special plans for supper.”

“Really?” Melissa raised a brow. “How special?”

“The kind of special that leads to forever, I hope.”

Melissa’s mouth slackened, but her stunned expression quickly changed into one of concentration. “Is that blood on your face?”

William snorted. “Why would I have blood on my face?” Melissa raised her brow and he waved her implication away. “If anything, it is probably jam.”

Melissa took out her crisp white handkerchief and gently wiped at the spot on his chin. “There, now you don’t look as if you murdered someone.”

William chuckled. “Thank you. Now I better leave.”

“Of course.” Melissa deftly stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket. “In case there’s more… jam on your way home.”

William smiled and hugged her shoulders. “Tell Neville I stopped by.”

“Visit us for dinner next week?”

William nodded and headed for the door, the eerie feeling creeping over him again. Not wanting to worry Melissa further, he stepped outside and waited to hear the lock clicking behind him before slowly making his way toward his horse.

Wind blew into his face, bringing with it the foul stench of unwashed bodies. He winced and looked around. Everything was quiet, but he could feel something lurking in the darkness. He had a dagger in his boot, but he had left his sword cane hanging off the saddle. If he reached it quickly, he might have a chance against whatever foe was lying in wait.

William dashed for his horse, only to skid to a halt as the barrel of a pistol loomed before his eyes. William glanced past the cold, oiled metal to a man several inches taller and considerably heavier than William’s lean frame. The man’s unwashed odor wafted on the wind, mingling with the pungent scent of horse and damp earth.

William could drop to the ground, unsheathe the dagger, and stab his opponent in the gut before the man managed to pull the trigger. But just as he thought that, movement flashed in his periphery—three more figures emerging from the surrounding trees and brush.

William’s heart hammered as the men fanned out, encircling him with ominous purpose. The leader kept his pistol aimed unwaveringly at William’s face, a grim smile twisting his ragged features.

“How can I help you, gentlemen?” William asked with an easy smile and nonchalant attitude.

“You have a price on your head, Bastard,” the man with a pistol said in a hoarse, unpleasant voice. “And we are here to collect on the bounty.”

* * *

At first, it was anger that overtook Victoria. She’d waited hours for William to come home to a table laden with food, freshly baked bread she had worked meticulously on and stew that had burned a little and wasn’t at all perfect, but as well as she could manage. She’d even brought up a bottle of wine from the larder, only she could not open it on her own.

As time progressed, the anger only strengthened. If he didn’t want to talk to her about his past and present, to put their issues behind them, then why even agree to it? Why bring her here in the first place? She had worked so hard to accept everything he threw at her. The tiny tower with no servants? She made it her home. No cook? She went so far as to learn to make stew. No guests at the house? She made a little haven by the hearth where she spent her time reading and otherwise occupying her time.

And the only thing she’d asked in return was to be honest with her completely, to spend an evening opening up his soul to her, and he couldn’t even do that!

But once the stew cooled into a cold and sticky mix, so did her ire. After a few hours more, her anger dissolved into worry. It wasn’t unlike him to spend the night away from the house. However, he had promised he would come home for supper. And she didn’t remember a single instance when William had gone back on his promise.

But the worst part was that even if something did happen to him, Victoria would never find out. She didn’t even know where to look for him, where to even start. Where did he go?