Tarnished, Tempted and Tamed. Mary Brendan

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       Chapter Five

      If he’d not been a military man Luke might have mistaken the muffled boom of the blunderbuss for the bark of a deer. As it was he reined in sharp with an oath exploding between his teeth. Another bullet was let loose far in the distance and this time he recognised the retort of a pistol.

      The stallion had also heard the sounds and, attuned to his master’s need for speed at such signals, required little prodding in turning and flying back the way they’d come over black, muddy fields.

      When thirty minutes later Luke reined in his mount its flanks were foamy with sweat. He approached the road cautiously, then, slipping from the saddle, covered the last hundred yards on foot, guided by the stationary coach lamps. Immediately he feared the worst as he heard the sound of groaning and women weeping being carried on the still night air.

      His fingers tightened on the duck-foot pistols and his jaw clenched as he glimpsed through the undergrowth the spectacle before him. Having ascertained that the thieves had left the vicinity, he loped onwards, calling out to announce his presence in case a bullet was fired at him.

      The Misses Beresford were the first to spot Luke. They scrambled from the coach where they’d been sheltering and rushed to cling to his arms, garbling a version of events.

      Peter Jackson was sitting on the ground, a hand pressed to a crust of blood on the back of his head. His wife continued dabbing frantically at his throbbing brow with a rain-dampened hanky and howled curses at the vile cowards who’d caused this mayhem.

      But it was the unmoving boy sprawled on the mud with his uncle fussing over him who drew Luke’s concerned gaze, but only momentarily. He suddenly realised that the person he most wanted to see was absent. Freeing himself from the spinsters’ clutches, he strode to the coach and looked inside.

      ‘Where’s Miss Chapman?’ Luke demanded, a surge of furious emotion suddenly overtaking him.

      ‘They’ve taken her.’ Peter Jackson shook his head, tears rolling down his face. ‘I couldn’t stop them, sir—they knocked me down when I tried to...’

      ‘Who was it?’ Luke snapped, coming closer, restraining an urge to grab the man’s lapels to hurry his answer.

      Peter raised his eyes to a flinty black stare. ‘There were two of them. They wore masks, but I’m sure that Collins is behind it. The evil blackguard!’

      Luke spun towards the driver; Williams was, after all, in charge of his customers’ safety, yet he’d offered no explanation or apology for Miss Chapman’s kidnap. But the man was distraught and Luke bit back the ferocious accusation he’d been about to let fly.

      ‘I think he’s dying,’ Toby gurgled, patting Bert’s face with increasing strength in an attempt to bring the youth round.

      ‘Get in the coach...all of you...apart from you!’ he ordered Toby. ‘Help me lift the lad—we’ll lay him on a seat and the others will have to squash together on the opposite side. Come, quickly now!’ he snapped at Toby in the hope of penetrating the man’s shock and galvanising him into action. ‘The Pig and Whistle is a few miles away and you can get help for your nephew there. Pray to God we’re in time for him...’

      The ladies tottered aboard the coach once more, followed by Mr Jackson. Luke and Toby gently lifted the invalid, then settled Bert on the worn upholstery. Although Toby winced on hearing the lad moaning, Luke was gladdened by the sound.

      ‘He has not fallen too far into unconsciousness,’ he reassured the driver. Pulling Toby away from fussing over the boy, he slammed shut the door. Once up on the driver’s perch Luke took the reins firmly; he didn’t want Toby Williams turning them over in a ditch in his agitated state.

      ‘Should you not tie your horse to the back of the coach, Mr Wolfson?’ Toby attempted to calm himself and be of assistance.

      ‘No need to worry about him—Star will follow.’ Following his concise reply about his finely trained stallion, Luke set the team to a trot. They’d soon cleared the woods and he put the horses to a faster pace, his eyes narrowed and straining to see through the darkness for hazardous obstacles littering the terrain in order to avoid them in good time.

      But as much as he was occupied by the job at hand an image of a woman with fawn hair and golden eyes was in his mind, too. Luke knew that if Collins had harmed a hair on Fiona Chapman’s head the dragoons on the smuggler’s trail wouldn’t be needed after today; Luke would find the lawless bastard and kill him himself.

      * * *

      Fiona felt scarcely able to breathe with a silencing gag wedged between her lips. As she’d been carried off she’d kicked, scratched and yelled so much that the two men had reined in after a short gallop to secure her hands and ankles СКАЧАТЬ