Page 106

James laughed. “Heel, boy.” Then he looked behind him and shouted, “Sarolt! Come here!”

Grace and Garrick sprang at the same moment.

Grace went for James’s arm; Garrick took out his sword.

But James reacted quickly, grabbing Grace’s arm and twisting it behind her back. She hissed at the pain. Her training kicked in and she stepped to the side, intending to unwind her arm and twist James’s wrist at the same time, but she stilled instantly when she felt the chill of a pointed blade on her neck.

“I said heel.” His voice had dropped a full octave and rumbled in Grace’s ear. The heat of his breath evoked images of Sheriff Clairmont.

Garrick froze with his sword in his hand. “Let her go.”

“Sarolt!”

The patrolman skittered past James and Grace, the movement sending the blade into Grace’s skin. It pricked her, but only barely. She cried out, in fear more than pain.

Garrick dropped the sword and the patrolman hurried behind him, restraining his arms.

“Walk!” James yanked Grace’s restrained arm, eliciting a hiss as her elbow and shoulder stretched beyond their natural range. She longed to slip her way free, but James kept the blade tight against her throat, so she followed, trying to move as smoothly as she could with head tilted back and arm screaming at every movement.

Once out the door, the night air stung the open slit on her neck and chilled the metal of the sword.

Garrick came less quietly. “Let her go. Take me. I’m the one you want.”

Stubborn, selfless man. She adored him. But even if she thought James would lose the chance to present her to the mayor for hanging, she wasn’t going to let Garrick sacrifice himself. She’d just have to find a way to free them both.

On the road near the abandoned farm sat a wagon, which James seemed to be dragging her toward.

Grace tried to slow her steps, eyes scanning for something to use as a distraction. If she could shift the blade away from herself, she knew Garrick would act. He was stronger than the man restraining him, judging by the sword work she’d seen at the mayor’s competition.

“Hurry up!”

Begrudgingly, Grace complied.

When they reached the wagon, James pulled the knife tighter to her neck. “Climb up onto the driver’s seat, and don’t give me any trouble. Understand?”

“Yes,” Grace said, eyeing the reins. If Garrick climbed on, she’d urge the horses to run them away from their attackers. But James must have heard the defiance in her tone, because he yanked her twisted arm higher, shooting pain through it. While she was distracted, he passed the knife to the patrolman, who held it at Garrick’s neck.

The sight sent a shock wave through her so strong she thought she might collapse.

“Say that again,” James said.

“I won’t cause trouble,” Grace ground out.

“Good.” He grabbed the leather strap, draping it over one of the horses’ backs,, then released her arm. She climbed up.

While she climbed, Garrick swung his head back, into the nose of the patrolman and away from the blade. The man cried out and let go of Garrick, but he seemed dazed by his own attack. James easily took the blade from the patrolman and put it at Garrick’s back.

“I am going to enjoy seeing you hang.”

Without prompting, Grace finished her climb and found her seat, but she watched over her shoulder. James didn’t seem to mind.

Garrick stood stiff but kept his face firmly directed away from James, expression hard.

Splay your hands, arms back, and turn!Grace willed her thoughts into Garrick’s mind vainly. If only she’d stopped arguing with him sooner. She could have taught him how to escape this.

“Get up there, you idiot. Deal with that later.” “That” was Mr. Sarolt’s steadily bleeding nose, but the patrolman, clearly scared, scrambled into the wagon as James instructed.

“Up!”