Delia did not wait to find out if these were the same villains who had knocked her aunt senseless. Lifting her skirts, she fled into the trees, uncaring where she went as long as she was well off the road before they reached her.
Brambles caught at her petticoats, slowing her progress. She wrenched free and ran on, stumbling against bushes and trees that scratched at her arms and face. Behind, she could hear the galloping hooves coming nearer.
The crashing of branches threw her pulses into disarray and she glanced behind. The lead horseman had turned into the forest! He’d slowed of necessity, but was he following her?
Delia ran as for her life, crushing twigs and fallen leaves. A broken branch lying on the ground ahead loomed. She picked up her skirts, heedless of showing her legs, and leapt over it, praying the rider would not follow. She saw a gap leading into what looked like a copse and made for it, hoping it would provide a hiding place.
As she reached it, the hoofbeats ceased. Turning, she looked for the horse and rider and could not see them. Where had he gone?
At a distance, she could hear the clip-clop of more horses, together with a good deal of thrashing. But the near one had vanished. A sudden impossible hope leapt into Delia’s bosom. Could it be? If it was the stranger, he’d hidden himself as well as he had before, even on horseback.
She slid between the trees she’d noted and found she was indeed in a small space, enclosed within a clump of leafy vegetation. Her heart was chittering like a mouse in a cheese, half fearful, half in undisguised anticipation. She peeped out of the makeshift entrance, but could see no one. She heard voices. Rough voices they were too. A sliver of recognition filtered into Delia’s mind and her veins froze.
Those same men! She was sure of it. Then her stranger prince was indeed here. Had he seen her? Did he know she’d been left behind? She’d left the road so swiftly, it was all too possible he’d not been following her. Perhaps he had merely sought to conceal himself.
“Come away from there! You’ll be seen.”
Delia’s heart leapt. She swung about and found the stranger had entered the little enclosure. She gasped out the first thought in her head. “You did see me!”
He took her arm and drew her right into the small space, pulling her down to the ground. “Sit! And stay quiet!”
Delia obeyed without even thinking about it, her whole mind concentrated on his presence, her bosom alive with elation, her eyes devouring him as he settled by her side. She dropped into a whisper. “Where is your horse?”
“Safely hidden. Hush!”
She didn’t want to hush. She wanted to gabble incoherently. To tell him how happy she was to see him, to know that he’d spotted her and come after her. She could not doubt he meant to help her, even if he was paying her scant attention at this moment.
He was sitting cross-legged, elbows on his knees, his chin in his hand, his eyes searching beyond the close bank of brush and trees in which they sat concealed. Delia found herself listening with him, her gaze hunting as his did, trying to see through the intervening leaves.
Voices sounded without and now she could indeed catch glimpses of figures scouting around the environs.
The stranger dropped his hands and sat up, craning his neck. One hand seized Delia’s wrist and she looked round. She received a warning look as his grip tightened and his free finger went to his lips. Delia nodded and he let her go.
As well he’d warned her, for the rough voice she remembered abruptly rose in anger.
“Ain’t no use squeaking, Barney. If we loses ’im we don’t get no blunt.”
The other voice protested. “’E’s too leery, Sam. Led us a merry dance again, and we ain’t had nothing to eat in hours. I’m for the boozing ken.”
A thump and a yell. Did it signify a blow? Straining to see, Delia caught a glimpse of motion.
“What yer do that for?”
“Hold yer whining. When we got him, his nibs’ll pay ’andsome.”
“Aye, and we sleeps in Rumbo fer kidnapping.”
“Nah, we doesn’t. Remember, he ain’t shown hisself. No one don’t know he’s in the country even, that’s what his nibs said.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“Yer don’t have ter like it. We just does it. He can’t double us forever. We’ll get ’im.”
Footsteps stamped through the undergrowth, making no attempt to be quiet as the stranger had done. The voices retreated, fading away.
The implications lingered in Delia’s head and she looked round at the stranger’s still intent features. A riffle disturbed her pulses. Questions tumbled in her mind.
Why were they seeking to kidnap him? Who wanted him captured? Where had he come from if no one knew he was in England? Though someone did. The villain who had sent those men after him. Then how did he know? Heavens, but into what bumble-broth had she intruded? It felt unreal, like a dream or an adventurous tale borrowed from the circulating library.