Page 8 of The Spinster’s Secret Stake (Ladies of Opportunity #2)

EIGHT

Oxleas Wood

Near Shooters Hill

Several terrifying minutes later

As Shelby sprinted toward safety, he listened for the gunfire and waited for the scorching sting of a lead ball tearing into his flesh.

Neither came, thank God.

Sucking in a ragged breath, he dragged a gasping Roxina deeper into the woodland. Their survival depended upon hiding until nightfall.

After that?

Well, he hadn’t decided on his next move just yet.

As they fled from what had once likely been a smuggler’s tavern, he expected shouts of alarm to tear through the woodlands. Aside from Roxina’s heavy breathing and the crunch of leaves and snapping twigs beneath their boots, nothing more ominous than a crow’s occasional caw met his ears.

As the distance between them and their abductors increased, he allowed himself to hope they had escaped undetected. Nevertheless, Shelby knew better than to believe Desmond and his brutes would stop pursuing them.

For they would not.

“In here, Roxina.” Shelby urged her into an opening between tangled hawthorn and blackthorn shrubs growing near exposed tree roots, providing them with a perfect nook to hide in. The undergrowth acted as natural camouflage and would conceal them as long as they didn’t move.

“Take care that you don’t get scratched,” he whispered, yanking off his coat and extending it to Roxina. “Your gown is too bright. Put my coat on.”

After doing so, but wrinkling her nose in distaste at the stiff garment’s odor, she plopped down, tucking her legs up like a child.

Hunched over, she wrapped her arms around them.

Her bonnet had come loose and hung by its ribbons around her neck. Several strands of shiny hair had shaken free from her chignon, sable curls trailing along her neck and framing her face and shoulders. Pale, her cheeks flushed from exertion, she closed her eyes and laid her cheek on her knees, her shoulders rising and falling with heaving breaths.

Shelby sank to the ground beside her, scooting close and sitting tailor-fashion. For extra measure, he pulled some of the underbrush around them as cover.

The warmth of the early May afternoon wrapped around him like a comforting cloak, the scent of sun-warmed earth mingling with the crisp tang of hawthorn blossoms. In Oxleas Wood, insects hummed, and a woodpecker drummed in the distance, its rhythm disrupting the steady birdsong drifting through the canopy.

The air carried the sweet perfume of wild primroses and violets, their delicate petals vibrant against the greenery. Bluebells swayed gently under the dappled sunlight, their bell-shaped blooms adding a touch of ethereal beauty to the forest floor.

A faint breeze rustled through the branches of ancient oaks and beeches, their dense foliage creating a soothing whisper that almost masked the bubbling murmur of a nearby stream, its soft trickling blending with the melody of the woods. Somewhere in the distance, the eerie cry of a barn owl cut through the hush, adding an ominous note to the otherwise tranquil scene.

Ideal for a romantic picnic, but not so idyllic when fleeing for one’s life.

The unmistakable rustle of movement nearby made him stiffen, and his pulse spiked. It could be anything—a fox, a hare—a…

A slight movement caught his eye.

Too small for a full-grown deer, too still for a fox.

He scraped his practiced gaze over every inch of the surrounding wood.

Shelby’s breath caught.

Ten feet away, nestled between the exposed roots of an ancient oak, half-hidden beneath a tangle of ferns, lay a tiny fawn. Its dappled coat, a mixture of russet and white, blended seamlessly with the speckled light filtering through the leaves above. It remained motionless, except for the rapid, nervous flutter of its breath.

He leaned closer, but the fawn did not flee.

Its dark, liquid eyes blinked slowly, ears flicking at the sound of his movement. The young creature—probably a newborn—kept its legs tucked neatly beneath its body, as if trying to disappear into the earth itself.

A doe hid her fawn in deep brush, returning only when the forest fell silent. An instinct meant to keep the vulnerable creature safe.

Still, the fawn’s fragility unsettled him.

A twig snapped in the distance.

His pulse quickened, and he signaled Roxina to stay still, much like the fawn, not daring to risk exposure. For a long moment, he remained watchful, the distant rustle of leaves and birdsong the only sounds in the still air. Then he leaned back, leaving the fawn undisturbed in its sanctuary of moss and shadows.

As he turned, he caught Roxina watching him, her expression unreadable.

“I still do not understand how you came to be abducted too.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, regarding him expectantly.

She appeared remarkably stalwart after what she had just endured. But that didn’t surprise Shelby. Roxina had always been one of the bravest, most levelheaded women he had ever known.

She cocked her head, her chestnut-brown eyes direct and inquisitive.

Shelby rubbed his nose. “The man responsible for abducting us is Rufus Desmond. He also has a bounty on his head.”

“And you collect bounties,” she said.

Another little-known fact about him, although Roxina had learned about his clandestine thief-taker profession last December.

“Collecting bounties is how I have survived. These past few months, unlike in previous years, I’ve taken care to hunt less dangerous criminals with smaller bounties to maintain my secret identity.”

“It sounds dangerous.” Roxina gave a rueful shake of her head. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me and am sorry Mitchel put you in this horrid predicament.”

Shelby gave her a long look, part of him wanting to blurt his feelings, but another wiser part knowing this was not the time to declare himself.

Truth be told, that time might never come.

“None of this is your fault, Roxina.”

He shifted, flicking a small stone pressing into his bum into the brush. “As for your question… When I learned of Desmond’s interaction with Mitchel, I decided to bring Desmond in, after I questioned him about your brother. The bounty would have kept me funded for a few months as I continued to search for Mitchel.”

“You believe Mitchel is still in England?” Folding her hands in her lap, Roxina canted her head. “I’m not so certain.”

Shelby gave a sharp nod. “I do, but I don’t think he’ll remain here for long. His plan has always been to leave England and never return.” He crossed his ankles. “But my guess is he gambled away the thousand pounds he procured in my name and found himself without means to flee the country.”

“That sounds like my brother.” Roxina twisted her mouth into a wry smile. “Selfish to the core.”

Sighing, Shelby closed his eyes for a moment.

“I rather think I’ll have to reevaluate my tactics now,” he murmured, keeping his tone low.

Sound traveled great distances outdoors.

A red squirrel chattered angrily, and somewhere in the woods, the rhythmic drumming of a great spotted woodpecker echoed among the trees.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but notice Roxina’s pensive expression as she gazed into the woodland.

“I suppose this means I cannot return to my cottage?” She gave him a sad, sideways look. “I have been happy there. Village life suits me.”

“I’m glad.” It very well might suit him too. “But until Mitchel has been apprehended, and Desmond is no longer a threat—as well as the moneylender satisfied—we must change our plans. I think we must travel to London.”

Shoulders slumping, a defeated sigh escaped her.

Suddenly, she lifted her head. “Dash!”

“What’s wrong?” Tensing, Shelby cast a swift, alert glance around and reached for the blade in his boot.

She chuckled, a low, throaty, lyrical sound.

Had he ever heard her laugh before?

“No—Dash is my dog. He tried to protect me and got kicked soundly.” She chewed her lower lip. “I hope he’s not injured too badly. I only recently rescued him from the streets. I’m sure he’ll return to the cottage.”

Shelby considered that for a moment. “I expect Desmond’s men to be watching the cottage as well. It would be dangerous to return there.”

“I shan’t leave my dog.” She jutted out her chin mulishly. “He’s been abandoned once already.”

Ah, there was the Roxina Shelby knew so well.

Then to the cottage, they would go.

It was perilous.

Foolish. Plain stupid, in fact, but Shelby couldn’t tell her no.

“If we wait until dark and stealthily return to Blackheath, your dog may be waiting.” Shelby cupped his chin. “Perhaps I can cause a distraction.” God alone knows what that will be . “Giving you enough time to collect a few possessions and your dog. Do you have a neighbor where you could wait for me?”

“I’ve become friendly with an elderly lady.” Roxina crinkled her nose. “I’m not sure she would want to get involved.”

“Come.” Shelby wrapped an arm around Roxina’s back, urging her to lay her head on his shoulder. “Don’t get disheartened, Roxina. We have friends that will help us.” Getting to them would be challenging, and traveling with a dog would draw attention. “Rest now. It will be several hours before we can leave.”

To Shelby’s astonishment, she didn’t argue.

Once she removed her bonnet, she snuggled into his side.

He struggled to adjust to this amiable Roxina.

“I don’t wish to impose upon our friends or endanger them,” she murmured against his shirt.

That he well understood, hence his disappearance into England’s unsavory underbelly. “I don’t either, but we don’t have a choice at this juncture.”

The urge to kiss the crown of her head overwhelmed him, and Shelby fisted his other hand into his thigh.

She smelled like clean linen and lavender, with a hint of warm spices–cinnamon and nutmeg–clinging to her skin, as if she had just pulled a fresh batch of cakes from the oven. They mingled with her soft warmth.

Soon, her even breathing revealed she had fallen asleep.

Closing his eyes, Shelby indulged in another kiss. He gently pressed his mouth to her silky hair. Just for an instant lest he wake her.

A vice tightened his chest.

How long had he wanted to hold her like this?

Too bloody long.

And he may never have the chance to do so again.

He swallowed hard, his breath uneven as she sighed against him, soft and trusting.

The moment slipped by too quickly, too fragile to hold.

He must protect her—not just from Desmond but from himself. No fool, he recognized the extreme danger surrounding them. And the truth gnawed at him.

Shelby did not know how to keep Roxina safe.