Owen waited until they reached a gravel road instead of the bumpy dirt drive they’d been on before he turned his head, catching just a hint of Camilla’s face under the blanket. “Think now would be an appropriate time to get back to what we were doing before Amos almost shot us?”
Warmth once again flooded over him when Camilla laughed.
“Not to disappoint you, but I don’t believe now, while we’re hiding out in the back of a wagon, under a blanket that smells like onions, is probably the best time to resume that type of business.”
“I suppose the onion smell does put a damper on things.”
“As does the idea we’re not out of danger yet.” She inched a little closer, surprising him when she took hold of his hand. “What’s your plan?”
“The only plan I have is to grab a few essentials before we head for the train station.”
“You don’t want to wait and see if Leopold, Charles, or any of the men who’ve been guarding me show up?”
“Unless they’re already there, no. We don’t have the luxury of that kind of time.”
“What about Bernadette and Mr. Timken?”
“I don’t think they’d be much use to us as guards, what with how Mr. Timken is pushing seventy at least, and Bernadette doesn’t strike me as a lady I should hand a gun to since she’s a little overly dramatic at the best of times.”
“I wasn’t thinking they’d be useful as guards but as chaperones.”
Owen frowned. “Forgive me, Camilla. I didn’t even consider needing a chaperone, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring them with us because we’ll be less conspicuous if it’s only the two of us.”
“Which makes sense. However, you must realize that if anyone spots us traveling alone together, that will mean we’ll have to make our feigned engagement official.”
His lips began curving on their own accord because it would not bother him in the least if they had no choice but to make that official, especially not after they’d almost shared a kiss again, and ... she’d seemed completely receptive to the idea of sharing that kiss.
Frankly, he’d been losing sleep ever since Lottie and Edwardhad interrupted them because Camilla hadn’t, up until tonight, given him any indication she wanted him to try kissing her again.
Considering she was a matchmaker—and there was no point thinking of her as a retired matchmaker since she’d certainly returned to her matchmaking endeavors with quite a bit of gusto—Owen knew full well that Camilla knew how to go about this business called romance, and . . .
“Should I take your silence to mean you’re currently thinking about how we should revise our plan so we aren’t forced to travel alone together?” she asked, pulling him straight out of his thoughts.
Given the slight trace of disgruntlement in her tone, it was clear he’d been allowing his thoughts to wander in the midst of what could be a life-changing conversation—and his life, at that.
“Forgive me yet again, Camilla. I fear I was lost in thought.”
“I knew you didn’t read that chapter in the last etiquette book that covered how important it was to always keep your thoughts, as well as attention, centered on the person you are engaged in conversation with.”
“I read that chapter, but you have to admit, we’ve been dealing with some extenuating circumstances over the past hour. I’m afraid all that decorum knowledge has gotten shuffled about in my mind.”
“I suppose that’s a legitimate excuse.”
“Indeed, but know that I wasn’t considering a way for us not to travel alone together. I was simply thinking that, if we were to be seen, I wouldn’t be—”
“We’re almost to your house,” Amos said, interrupting Owen mid-sentence as he leaned over the wagon seat and lifted the blanket to peer down at them. “I’m just letting Roscoe amble along a bit to make sure the coast is clear.” He dropped the blanket back into place as Camilla released a sigh.
“Why is it that when we’re getting right down to the good stuff, we’re always interrupted?” she whispered.
“Does that mean, when I was carrying you earlier, that you considered that getting down to some good stuff?”
“Perhaps,” she admitted as the wagon pulled to a stop and Amos lifted the blanket from them.
“Doesn’t seem to be anyone around,” Amos said quietly.
After climbing from the wagon, Owen helped Camilla do the same, sent Amos a nod of thanks after he got back on the seat and set the wagon into motion, then took Camilla’s arm and led her toward the front steps, the blood in his veins turning to ice when the sound of pounding boots erupted behind them.
“Run!” he yelled to Camilla before he turned and found himself confronted by at least five men.