Page 27 of A Stormy Season

Luke peeked out the door, then opened it wide and ran. He held her hand so tightly she had no choice but to keep up with him.

They emerged into the sunlight. A carriage was sitting outside the door. The driver glanced down as Luke approached.

“Hey, who are—” the driver began, then let out a yelp as Luke shoved him hard and sent him disappearing on the other side of the carriage.

Luke yanked the door open. “Get in,” he said, as he leapt onto the driver’s seat.

Jane didn’t have to be told twice. She jumped into the carriage as it lurched forward. A moment later, a gunshot rang out.

“God, please don’t let Luke get shot,” she whispered, remembering how fierce and capable he had looked moments before. She’d never experienced anything before like the power of his presence when he was attacking the guard and leading her away from their kidnappers.

The contrast of his masculinity and strength against his usual gentlemanliness left her breathless in a way she’d never experienced before. Blood pumped through her veins as she realized she hadn’t done so badly herself, attacking Lenoir and felling him like a tree.

It was a thrill she’d never imagined she would feel.

She and Luke Watley made a great team. If they didn’t get killed.

Chapter Nine

Luke slapped the reins across the horses’ shoulders, urging them forward. And then he heard the gun go off behind him.

A quick glance over his shoulder showed a red-faced guard aiming a pistol at them and getting ready to fire again.

He urged the horses to go faster, but the street was too crowded. The horses couldn’t go very fast without injuring someone. Luke only hoped the gunfire would alert the authorities, though he knew Lenoir had probably bribed the constable to look the other way.

He just kept the horses moving closer to home and to safety.

Jane had attacked Lenoir quite successfully, leaving him writhing on the floor. And he had managed to put his guard down with the brick with only a bit of a struggle. It had happened so fast, and yet time had seemed to move slowly in those moments. He’d forced himself to feel nothing for the guard, telling himself the man would gladly kill him at a single word from Lenoir.

He and Jane had freed themselves. That was all that mattered. He’d contemplate the possibility that he had killed a man later. Now he had to get Jane to safety.

He drove as quickly as he dared, drawing a raised fist or two and a shouted, “Slow your horses!” from an elderly man who had to jump back onto the sidewalk to get out of the way.

They drew near to where Jane lived. The street was quiet and empty, as it was still a bit early for callers. But it gave him an unsettled feeling to see everything looking at peace, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened the night before—as if he hadn’t prayed all night for God to spare Jane’s life as well as his own.

But now he was angry. If Lenoir wanted a fight, Luke would fight him and kill him, if necessary. In fact, he regretted he had not attempted to kill him while he had the chance.

God, forgive me if that’s wrong.

He stopped the horses at the front door of the Gilchrist townhouse, jumped down, and helped Jane from the carriage.

Even after being kidnapped and all she had gone through, Jane still looked beautiful. In fact, the unkempt condition of her hair made her even prettier, the natural way it hung by her cheeks—the imperfections making her more endearing, somehow.

But the bloody condition of her dress made him cringe.

He took her by the elbow and hurried her up the steps. Unfortunately, two women had already seen them, stopping short on their walk several feet away, their eyes wide as they covered their mouths with gloved hands.

The door swung wide as soon as they reached it and Henry motioned them inside.

“Thank God you are alive and safe,” he said, embracing his sister with one hand and shaking Luke’s hand with the other. “What happened? I was just about to pay Jane’s ransom.”

“We escaped.” Jane’s voice had an edge of triumph, and there was a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, my dear!” Mrs. Gilchrist exclaimed as she hurried down the hall and threw her arms around Jane’s shoulders. “You are safe! Thank God you are safe!” The usually mild-mannered and quiet woman’s voice was choked with emotion.

“It is powerfully good to see you both,” Henry said.

“Let us go,” Luke said, remaining near the front door while the ladies moved down the hall, undoubtedly to let Jane change out of her soiled dress and freshen up.