“Let me in.”
Was she insisting on reverting back to talk of his mother’s family? How much had he told her before? He could no longer remember. He was silent too long.
“If you don’t understand, never mind.” She began to walk on again and he followed suit. “What will you do if Piers does not make contact?”
The change of subject threw him, though he’d not wanted to talk of the other. “I don’t know. I’m pretty certain he’ll show if he can’t find means to snatch me away or otherwise dispose of me.”
“And you’re willing to just wait for any of those things to happen?”
“What else can I do?”
“Try to find someone who can support your claim. And the best place to start is with family, if you weren’t so pig-headed about it!”
In a cooler frame of mind, Giff had to concede the point. Whether he could swallow his pride was another matter. He said nothing, reluctant to reopen the argument.
After a moment, Delia spoke again, her tone stiff and constricted. “Very well, I see how it is. I must just steel myself to watching you make a sitting duck of yourself while Piers plans an attack.”
Hardly were the words out of her mouth than two men came running from inside the ruins, clubs raised to strike.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sheer terror held Delia frozen as she watched the ruffians approach. Then Giff let out a piercing whistle. She cried out and heard his urgent command close to her ear.
“Run! Back towards the others!”
He gave her a push as he spoke. Without will, Delia began to move, then stopped as she saw him start towards the men.
“Giff, no!”
“Get back, Delia!”
Her legs felt like lead and she could barely put one foot in front of the other. Her eyes were on the running men. They were close. Too close.
In seconds they were on Giff. The impact caused all three to stagger. It seemed to Delia a mêlée of grunts and grips that shifted one way and then another. Her gaze found the clubs she’d seen raised, still clutched though neither had found a mark. The scrawny Barney’s club hand dropped as a well-aimed kick to the shin caused him to yelp and hop.
The bigger man — Sam, it must be — was grappling to raise his club even as his other hand held fast to Giff’s coat. Delia saw him shift back a step. Fear coursed through her as the club went up. It did not fall.
Instead, Giff’s fist connected with the man’s jaw. His head went back and he released his clutch on the coat.
But Barney, recovering, bored in again. Somehow Giff’s leg got behind his and next instant the man was on the ground. Delia could have cheered. Except that Sam, shaking his head as if to clear it, charged in again.
The two grappled. Giff seized Sam’s wrist. Was he trying to keep him from using the club?
She could see Barney struggling to his feet. Scrambling for his own club, which he’d dropped. Giff could never hold both! Frantic, she looked back along the building. No one in sight. Where were they all?
Taking in a breath, she yelled for help at the top of her lungs.
Barney, just rising, turned to look at her. Delia backed a few steps, afraid he would come after her. Without thought, she yelled again.
He made a threatening move. She turned and ran, screaming as she went.
An answering shout sounded from a distance. In the background of her mind she heard Sam call out.
“Get over here and help me!”
Delia staggered to a stop, looking back. Barney was turning towards the two men still caught in a staggering bear hug. The other ran at them and the impact threw both to the ground.
To her horror, Delia realised Giff was underneath. All thought of escape left her. She began instead to cast about the ground. She needed something. A weapon! Anything would do.