Page 64 of Road Trip With a Rogue
Jem leapt to his feet and pointed toward the horizon. “No need. The bastard’s found us!”
The others turned in alarm, and Daisy’s heart skipped a beat as she saw two horsemen galloping toward them at speed. Vaughan’s unmistakable silhouette was in the lead, with Finch close by his side. They were riding as if hell itself was after them.
“You stupid bastard!” Alan swore at Connor. “You’ve led ’em straight to us!”
“I never saw ’em!” Connor countered, equally incensed. “Someone must’ve told ’im. Or he’s got the luck o’ the devil.”
He strode over to the cart and pulled a rifle from beneath the hay, which he proceeded to prime with a measure of powder from a copper flask on his belt. Alan pulled Daisy’s knife from where he’d tucked it in the back of his belt and held it ready, while Jem caught up her other knife from a stone by the fire.
Daisy cursed at the horrible irony of two of her own blades being used against her rescuers. God, if either of them hurt Vaughan or Finch, she’d go mad.
They were still advancing, and although it was getting harder to see them as the darkness increased, they still had a good half mile to cover. The barren location had given them no chance of a surprise attack, and they were easy targets for Connor’s rifle.
Daisy sprang forward just as he shouldered the weapon. She sprinted the few yards from the cottage and flung herself against his back, barreling into him with her shoulder, using all her weight and momentum. His finger tightened on the trigger and the rifle fired with an ear-splitting roar, but he stumbled forward with a furious oath as his shot went wide, snapping a branch of a nearby evergreen.
Daisy staggered and went down on one knee, then rolled to the side as he swung around to wallop her.
“Little bitch!” he roared.
She rolled again, trying to get clear of him, then flung the rock at his head, forcing him to duck, but Alan had already raced across the clearing. He caught the collar of her shirt, yanked her roughly to her feet, and gave her a backhanded slap across the face that made her ears ring and her knees buckle.
Behind her, she heard Vaughan roar with fury, and she sank down, letting Alan take all of her weight as she reached blindly for the knife in her boot.
A pistol shot cracked the air behind her. Alan jolted, and she didn’t think; she pulled the blade from her boot and thrust it upward. There was a sickening give as it embedded itself in his arm, then a jarring resistance as it hit bone. She tugged it free and slashed again, but he’d already released her and was staggering backward, toward the cottage, blood pouring from both her handiwork and a fresh bullet wound in his shoulder.
He’d dropped her second blade in the dirt, and she snatched it up, her lungs heaving with exertion, ready to go at him again, but he sagged against the doorframe, then collapsed.
Satisfied that he was no longer a threat, she swung back around to see Vaughan’s horse clearing the low stone wall in a graceful arc. He fired a second pistol as soon as he landed, and Connor staggered back as he was hit at almost point-blank range. Vaughan flung himself from his mount, taking Connor to the ground, and they grappled for possession of the rifle.
Vaughan wrenched it from Connor’s grip and smashed him in the face with the butt. The dreadful crunch of bone and cartilage breaking turned Daisy’s stomach, butshe felt a rush of savage satisfaction as Connor slumped down onto the grass.
Still-mounted Finch had cornered Jem against the far wall. Jem took a wild swing with Daisy’s last knife, barely missing the horse’s nose, but Finch kicked him in the face with his boot still in the stirrup, and Jem’s chin snapped up as he crumpled to the ground.
Daisy glanced back at Vaughan. His face was harsh in the firelight, savage fury glimmering in his eyes. This wasn’t the cool, cynical duke familiar to theton. This was the seasoned soldier, a man who’d faced death a hundred times. His chest was heaving with exertion as he pushed himself off Connor’s lax body, but the darkness in his eyes faded, replaced by a desperate urgency and concern as he rose and started toward her.
“Daisy. God, where are you hurt?”
Chapter Thirty
Daisy’s knees threatened to buckle as Lucien came toward her. Her hands were shaking in reaction, and she took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart.
“Where are you hurt?” he commanded again. His gloved hand came up to cradle her jaw before she could answer, his thumb sliding over her cheek, and his eyes darkened as he catalogued her split lip and the bruising to her jaw.
“Bastards,” he growled. “They hit you.” His eyes narrowed even more. “Did they do worse?”
Daisy shook her head. “Only tied me up. I’m fine. Truly.”
He glanced back over his shoulder, as if debating whether to go back and inflict more damage. “I should kill the bloody lot of them.”
She caught his wrist and shook her head. “No. No more killing. Not for me.”
A lump formed in her throat as she looked up at his profile and a thousand conflicting emotions tangled in her chest. “It’s good to see you. I didn’t think you’d—”
“Come for you?” he finished. A muscle ticked in hisjaw as he glared down at her, as if mortally offended. “I’llalwayscome for you, Daisy.”
His gaze burned into hers for an instant before he looked away, as if realizing what he’d just said. How it could be construed. He cleared his throat. “We never leave a man behind.”
He removed his hand from her cheek and stepped back, and her stomach swooped in disappointment. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her for comfort. To forget the panic in the safety of his embrace.