A hysterical chuckle escaped her. The stranger looked round, a quick frown admonishing the sound. Contrite, Delia threw a hand to her mouth. But she could not keep from whispering around it.
“I just had the maddest thought.”
One eyebrow shot up over the blue gaze. “And?”
Delia dropped her hand, smiling. “I feel like I’ve strayed into the pages of a gothic novel.”
A grin dispelled his stern look. “You may be pardoned for thinking so.”
Mesmerised all over again by his presence, Delia could not take her eyes from his face. She tried for a neutral tone. “Have they gone, do you think?”
“What do you think?”
She sighed at the sceptical note. “I suppose it was too much to hope for. What now?”
The disconcerting gaze scanned her, dropping from her face to her clothing, to her feet and back again. “You’re hardly dressed for it, but I’ll have to take you up on Tiger.”
“Your horse? But you can’t take me all the way to Weymouth!”
“Is that where you were headed? It’s a pity you missed the coach.”
Lurking distress she’d thought she had suppressed threw Delia into irritation. “Thanks to your friends!”
“They’re no friends of mine. Come on.” He leapt lithely to his feet, holding his hand down to her.
Delia allowed him to help her up, but entered a caveat nonetheless. “But where will you take me?”
“Not to Weymouth, that’s certain.”
Apprehension swept through Delia. “But you must! I can’t just go off on your horse. How will they find me?”
“We’ll deal with that later. There’s no time now. And keep quiet!” Seizing her hand, he led her through a gap and began to thread a path in and out of the trees.
Delia dropped to an agitated whisper. “I can’t be quiet! We must settle this. If you can’t take me to Weymouth —”
“How far do you think we’d get along the road with those two still scouting the area?”
“Those men? But you can’t take me with you!”
“I don’t have a choice. I can’t leave you here alone, can I?”
The thought of him leaving her was anathema, but Delia was even less happy at the notion of him riding off with her to heaven knew where. She fell back on the only thing that came into her head. “I don’t even know your name!”
He did not break stride. “Nor I yours. You can call me Giff.”
“Just Giff? Is it really your name?”
“Good question. It’ll do for now.”
Oh, this was too much! Delia pulled back, wrenching her fingers from out of his hold and bringing them both to a halt. She addressed him in a furious whisper. “Listen, Giff — or whoever you really are — this simply won’t do! I’m going no further until you tell me what you intend.”
Giff’s brows were climbing his forehead. He gave a grunt. “There’s more to you than meets the eye. What’s your name?”
“Delia.” She snapped it out. She was not going to give him more than he’d given her.
His gaze swept her again, in an appraising look. “Nice. It sounds like a flower of some kind. Suits you.” Then he reached for her hand and moved on. “I’ll see you safely where you need to go, but for now we’ve got to get away from here. You can fuss later.”
Silenced, Delia followed in his wake, her mind humming with Giff’s pleasing allusion to a flower. She felt both flattered and doubtful. She would not even toy with the foolish notion he might admire her. No man had before. Certainly none as breathlessly attractive as Giff.