He worked quickly since there was no time to waste. But even so, he couldn’t help noticing her generous curves and the enticing flesh beneath his hands. His body leaped in response, though he tried to stifle his reaction. Much more of this, and she wouldn’t be the only one moving slowly.
“I believe, sir, that my muscles are quite relaxed now.” Her tone was both husky and tense, whether from the situation or his ministrations, he couldn’t tell.
Fielding reached into his boot and withdrew a dagger. He handed it to the woman. “If they come after you, do not hesitate to use this, do you understand?”
She looked down at the knife in her free hand and nodded, but he was uncertain as to whether or not she could actually follow through with such a task. There was no room for error at the moment, else he and the woman would both find themselves prisoners of the Raven.
“Do not bother slashing at their arms. Go straight for their bellies where you’ll do the most damage,” he instructed.
She shuddered but nodded.
He stepped away from her and aimed his pistol at the top of the chain.
“Are you mad?” she hissed.
He ignored her and took the shot. It did the trick and the chain broke free, but the ricochet rang throughout the room and Thatcher was on his feet in a matter of seconds. Fielding had already grabbed the girl, though, and they were making their way up the stairs.
“Where do you think you’re going, Grey?” Thatcher snarled. The man searched for his gun, but Fielding had already removed it. Just as he’d also disabled their carriage outside and sent their horses running.
“Thatcher, it’s not your style to abduct unsuspecting women.” He slid another bullet into his pistol and leveled it at the men.
Thatcher took a step toward them but stumbled in the darkness. “Grey, you and I both know you’re no different than us, despite that title of yours.”
Waters felt around the camp, crawling on his knees, searching under their bedding, no doubt also looking for a weapon.
“Ah,” Fielding said, “but there is one difference. I have the box and the girl.”
Thatcher snarled. “Give us the box.” He took another step forward. “We’ll split our share of the money with you.”
“Don’t make another move, or I will shoot you,” Fielding said as they backed their way up the stairs. “We’ll be leaving now.” And with that, they turned and ran.
Fielding dragged the woman behind him, knowing that her slippered feet were taking a beating against the cracked stone, but that wasn’t his concern. Carrying her would only slow them down, and he could already hear the men scrambling after them.
He and the woman reached the outside, and the chilled night air slapped at them. With one arm, he jumped onto his horse, then pulled the woman up in front of him. Facing him, actually, which proved a bit awkward, but there was no time to rectify it. He kicked his horse into action, and they rode off just as Thatcher and Waters appeared outside the ruins.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said breathlessly.
It was hard not to look at her face when she spoke to him, as she was sitting directly in front of him. And the moon hanging above illuminated her perfectly. She was close enough for him to see the freckles that splattered across her nose and her large, thickly lashed, river-green eyes. Her hair smelled of lilac, despite the mud covering her.
He merely nodded and returned his attention to the landscape before them.
“Won’t they come after us?” she asked.
“Probably.” Her legs brushed against his, and he looked down—milky white thighs straddled his own. He couldn’t help remembering how those thighs had felt beneath his hands. Firm yet pliant. His senses stirred as his body once again responded to hers. Damn it all.
He could only imagine her indignation if she happened to notice his growing erection. He’d heard more than enough of her prattling earlier to know she was a well-bred lady. A prim one at that, despite the fact that her body was obviously made for sin.
They couldn’t very well ride back to London this way. It was more than twelve hours away, and if she noticed his reaction, chatterer that she was, she’d no doubt preach to him the whole way about sins of the flesh or some such nonsense. The ride would be interminable even if his body didn’t have a mind of its own.
They needed to either take the train or find a coach. He eyed her mud-splattered nightgown. Clearly they couldn’t take the train and avoid being seen, even with a private car. He didn’t even know who this woman was. The last thing he needed was some angry papa coming after him demanding Fielding marry the girl. That left finding a carriage. He’d seen a sign for a carriage house on his way to the ruins.
As he turned his horse down the appropriate road, he detected the sound of pounding hooves behind them. He did his best to isolate the noise, to be certain of what he heard. Definitely horses coming their way.
“Hold on tight,” he told the woman. “Why?”
“Because we’re being followed.”
CHAPTER 5