Page 18 of Escape of the Highwayman (Escape #3)

His visitor was clearly one of the grooms, surely not a day above twenty years old, and his expression was belligerent. “She says I’m to help you. But if you’ve hurt one hair on her head, I swear I’ll send you to the gallows myself.”

“Very proper,” Jon replied.

The young man took several pieces of wrapped food from the saddle bag he carried and placed them on the floor. “These are for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You leave tonight, as soon as it’s dark and the coast is clear.”

Jon did not reply. Instead he said, “Where is she?”

“With that damned horse who’s been trying to fight his way out of his hiding place all afternoon. One of us has to stay with him the whole time.”

Jon felt his lips twitch. “Sorry. Try to keep her away.”

“You can’t make Miss Chloe do anything.” The stable lad looked him up and down. “Can you manage the ladder?”

“Yes,” Jon said optimistically. “If you can stay with Cavalo until I get there.”

“Why’s he got a foreign name?”

“Because I bought him in Portugal.”

“What does it mean?”

Jon smiled. “Horse. In this case, the horse. He’s an amazing animal.”

The boy’s shoulders relaxed, as if up until that moment he hadn’t decided whether or not to thrash the man who was taking advantage of his mistress’s kindness. “He is that. Did he really follow you here?”

“Either that or it’s an astonishing co-incidence. Are you Joe?”

The groom nodded, blushing slightly, as though he was intrigued, even pleased, that his name had been mentioned.

“Then I don’t need to ask you to look after her,” Jon said steadily.

“No. No, you don’t.”

Jon was glad she had a friend to look out for her. It was some consolation for never seeing her again, and in spite of the fantasies in his head, he knew he never would.

***

J ON WAS PACKED AND ready with his coat on by the time darkness fell. Most of the stable staff had the evening off, leaving only Joe who had, apparently, volunteered to stay behind.

Jon told himself that he hoped Chloe would stay away, now that she had recruited Joe. Torn between longing to see her again and fear of her being discovered helping him, he knew a clean break with no complicating farewells was best for them both. Besides, he hated farewells and always had.

And yet, when the stable door opened to reveal not Joe but Chloe, bathed in the glow of the lantern she held, he felt only gladness.

“Jon?”

He limped into the light at the top of the ladder. “I’m here,” he said briskly. “Let me pass you these things down and then you had better stand back in case I fall on you.” One way or another he was coming down now.

She set down the lantern and climbed a couple of steps to take his walking stick and his saddle bags, which she deposited beside the lantern.

Then she moved to the side of the ladder as he began to lower himself, and when he rested his false foot gingerly on the step, she held it firmly in place.

Oddly, it was enough to steady him, to maintain his balance as he made the next step.

Even more oddly, he did not mind the help. He was grateful for it.

“Goodbye, cats,” he murmured to Molly and her sleeping kittens. She watched him with her wide, accusing stare.

When he stood at last on terra firma , he took a deep breath, then picked up the saddle bags and draped them over his good shoulder.

Chloe handed him his walking stick. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Freedom called. He had been cooped up here too long and the risks she was taking for him had become unbearable. He wanted and needed to be away, for both their sakes. And yet his excitement was tinged with sadness that he would not think about. “ Lay on, Macduff .”

She picked up the lantern and opened the door a crack, looking about her before opening it wide. He limped after her and closed the door quietly behind him.

It seemed strange and yet oddly wonderful to be walking by her side at last, the cool night breeze on his face.

Beyond the trees, the big house that was her home loomed.

Ahead, he could make out little except the path immediately in front of them.

Chloe’s step was sure, quick, and graceful, her manner watchful.

It seemed a long way after being able to pace only the length of the loft for so long, but he found he was in no hurry after all, not even to see Cavalo again.

There was a pleasing intimacy about this walk in the darkness, a sense of timelessness in which they had no past or future, just now. And now was sweet.

Bittersweet.

He heard Cavalo’s distinctive if muffled whinny before the lantern showed him the old stable building. The journey was over.

“Joe,” Chloe hissed, and the door swung open.

Cavalo snorted, pushing forward and Jon reached up to him. The horse lowered his head, blowing into Jon’s face.

“You are a fool, Cavalo,” Jon murmured, touching his forehead to the horse’s, patting his neck. And so am I .

Joe took the bags from him, and he realized there was already a saddle on the horse.

“It’s old,” Chloe said. “But it should do.”

She set down the lantern and handed him a bridle from a nail in the wall. Jon slipped it over Cavalo’s nose and fastened it.

“Do you want a leg up?” Joe asked, almost aggressively.

“No, I can do that part. Thank you.”

Joe nodded curtly and glanced at Chloe. Whatever passed between them, Joe turned and walked out.

And so the parting stretched ahead of him after all. He refused to think of more than the immediate, and he owed her a little grace.

“You will need someone to take the stitches out of your wound,” she said worriedly.

“I’ll manage,” he assured her. He took her hand, and her fingers clung to his.

“Thanks are not enough, but I offer them anyway. And I wish you all the happiness in the world.” Foolish, inadequate words.

He bent and pressed his lips to her hand, lingering too long because her skin was soft and fragrant, and he wanted to remember.

“It was a good adventure,” she said bravely, her voice not quite steady.

“The best,” he said, smiling because it truly was, eclipsing all that had gone before. “You are wonderful, Chloe Barclay. You deserve your dreams, and I hope they come true.” On impulse, he turned her hand, pressed a kiss into her palm and closed her fingers.

Then he let her go and swung away from the pain with massive relief.

It didn’t make him feel better. Leaning heavily on his stick, he reached up to grip Cavalo’s saddle, and hauled himself upward until his good foot found the stirrup, then swung his bad leg over the horse’s back.

The mounting method had taken him a long time to perfect.

He slid his stick into the loop sewn in his saddle bag and gathered the reins.

Chloe stood at his knee, gazing up at him mutely. For once, it seemed, she had nothing to say, but her eyes were full and glistening and that broke his heart. As though she could bear no more, she turned blindly to the door, opening it wide for him to pass through.

It seemed neither of them could speak.

He urged Cavalo forward and ducked his head to clear the lintel. Only then he made the mistake of one last look, and there was a tear on her cheek. All his noble intentions crumbled into instinct.

He swooped further, catching her in his arm and hauling her close enough for his mouth to find hers.

Too hard, too urgent for a first kiss, and yet its desperation came from the heart, and she yielded at once, kissing him back fiercely.

Her fingers fluttered across his face, caressing with need and wonder.

He wanted to haul her up before him and ride off with her, never let her go.

Forcing himself, he gentled his mouth and released her. He didn’t remember telling the horse to walk on but he did, and then they were outside and alone, and he rode away at a canter without looking back. He couldn’t.

***

C HLOE’S WHOLE BEING was a jumble as she stood at the stable door, gazing after Jon and Cavalo until the darkness swallowed them. Even then, she could hear the hoofbeats on the soft ground, imagine she saw glimpses of the bobbing lantern tied to the saddle.

Did he even know where he was going? She had meant to discuss all that with him, yet when it was time to speak, her throat had closed up, and all she could think was that she would never see him again. Even when his name was cleared, he had no real reason to come back.

Until he had kissed her. Her stomach, her very bones, still melted from that kiss which somehow was all the sweeter because she knew he hadn’t intended it.

It was as if he could not help it, and that made her smile.

She touched her tingling lips, closed her eyes, and listened until the silence of the night told her he had gone.

She swallowed and wiped her sleeve across her damp face. No words had been necessary in the end, and perhaps that was best.

Forcing herself, she emptied Cavalo’s water bucket outside and retrieved her drawstring bag. Joe had said he would muck out the straw. She would just look over the main stable loft before she went to bed.

But when she got there, it looked as if he had never been.

She dragged her feet back to the dark house and found her way back to her bedchamber in the dark.

***

A FTER A POOR NIGHT’S sleep, she rose and went through the motions of washing and dressing and eating a solitary breakfast. No need to steal food for Jon or Cavalo. For want of anything better to do, she went to the kitchen to collect some scraps for Molly.

“Have you heard, miss?” Cook said, wide-eyed. “Sir Denbeigh Miles was held up on the Brighton road last night! Not ten miles from Greater Lessing.”

Blood sang in Chloe’s ears. She almost dropped the saucer of scraps.

Truly? He broke his every promise to me the same night he left?

I am a fool, and I didn’t know him at all...

Oh no. I won’t believe that. There is another explanation. There has to be.