Slipping the reins over her arm, she unscrewed the lid and handed it across. Giff took it, raised the open neck to his mouth and drank. Delia watched in fascination as his throat shifted as he swallowed. It had the oddest effect, as if the blood sang in her veins.
He lowered the flask, shook his head and handed it back with a grin. “That’s better. I’ll do now.”
In proof of which, he sat up straighter as Delia screwed the top back on. She was about to slip it back into the saddlebag when she changed her mind. Reaching to Giff’s coat, she found one of his pockets and slipped it in, aware of his eyes following her movements.
The blue gaze met hers and his mouth twitched. “Canny wench, aren’t you?”
Delia had to laugh. “It’s just you might need it if you feel faint again.”
He nodded. “My thanks. Onward!”
She settled the reins and set Tiger in motion again. “Do you think they’ve given up?”
“What, abandoned the chase? Not for long, if they have. The wretches have been after me for days. I’ve managed to avoid them for the most part. Sheer bad luck they caught up with me today.”
“Why are they chasing you?”
“Set on by my cousin. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s it. I can’t see who else would hire ruffians to get me out of the way.”
A riffle of fear swept through Delia. “But they won’t kill you! I thought they just meant to capture you.”
“And then kill me.” His matter-of-fact tone chilled Delia. “Silly to go leaving the evidence about. My cousin wouldn’t want the justices on his tail.”
Horrified, and not a little indignant, Delia found herself unconsciously urging Tiger to go faster. “But why does he want you dead?”
“I’m in the way. According to my great-uncle, Piers claimed I was already dead.”
“Who is your great-uncle?”
“You’ll find out. That’s where we’re headed.”
“Where?”
“Stepleton. He has the rectory living.” Giff broke off. “There’s a bridge!”
Delia followed his pointing finger. “I see it! Come up!”
The stallion lengthened his stride to a canter. Delia pulled him up as they reached the bridge, regarding it with disfavour. “It looks rickety to me.”
“Give me the reins!”
She relinquished them with alacrity, having no desire to attempt to negotiate the narrow wooden slats leading across, along with the aged and broken railing. Just as Giff guided Tiger’s steps onto the precarious structure, a familiar sound reached Delia’s ears.
Hoofbeats. More than one set. And crackling twigs along with the swish of shifting leaves.
“Oh, dear heaven, I think they’re coming!”
“Damn them to hell!”
Delia’s heart leapt into her mouth as the horse took the bridge at a pace that threatened to upturn the lot of them into the river below. The clatter of Tiger’s hooves on the wooden surface sent her senses flying into apprehension.
“They’ll hear that for sure!” Forgetting to be afraid of the crossing, she trained her eyes on the thickets behind and caught movement in the trees. “I can see them! Giff, hurry, for heaven’s sake!”
The horse’s hooves hit terra firma again and Tiger shot into the forest, going straight through a gap in the trees. Delia looked back, trying to see if their pursuers were on the trail and saw instead the worn path winding away behind them. Oh, help! If those ruffians were able to cross the bridge, they could follow just as easily.
Impatience claimed her as Tiger’s pace slowed. “He’s tiring!”
She saw Giff glance up through the canopy of leaves. Was he finding the sun to guide them west again? “Not far now.”