The thought of Lily bound in chains for the rest of her life and forced to do Ashton’s bidding made him ill. Writing science articles for that madman was the least of it. Lily was a beautiful girl. He refused to think of what else the bastard had planned for her. “I don’t know, lass.”
Though she was now huddled in his jacket, he doubted it was enough to keep her warm. He had to get her back to London as soon as possible, but she needed food and a change of clothes first. The air was an unappealing mix of cold and damp. He’d noticed a cozy inn about an hour’s ride north of here, a good place to stop and allow Lily some time to rest. “The Bow Street men will question him when he awakens.”
She nodded, and then her gaze fell upon the sleeve of his shirt. “Oh, Ewan! You’re hurt.”
He’d forgotten about the blood seeping down his arm, purposely ignored the burning pain. “It’s just a flesh wound. I’m fine, lass. More important, you’re safe, and I mean to keep you that way. I’ll get you out of this bloody place as soon as I can.”
“I’m not scared any more. Not with you beside me.”
He let out a soft laugh. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. You came out of your hiding spot to save me, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “He had the pistol aimed at your back. I didn’t think about it, just shoved at him with all my might. He still struck you, though.”
“As I said, a mere flesh wound. Thank you, lass. You saved my life.”
She burrowed more deeply against him, rested her cheek against his chest. “As you saved mine. And I didn’t even need my hat pin.” Her fingers fumbled into the stained sash of her gown and drew out the long, thin metal for his inspection. “Look, it’s right here.”
“Hold on to it. You may still need it. I’m not sure if the Bow Street runners have secured his accomplices.”
He needn’t have worried. Homer and his men did their jobs, capturing all five accomplices, two of whom were shot and seriously injured. The other three were trussed up like Christmas geese about to be roasted over a fire. Homer had moved their prisoners into the house and George was working on the two wounded culprits as Ewan marched in. “Jasper’s guarding Ashton. He’s in the woods.”
Mick, a burly man with a leathery face that reflected the wear and tear of a hard life, moved to the door. “I’ll take care of that fancy cove.”
For a moment, Ewan wasn’t quite certain what Mick meant to do, but these were trained Bow Street runners and not heartless killers. “Here, take this rope,” Homer said. “Tie him up like the others. We’ll haul his dismal arse to London along with them other knaves. Don’t want to be dealin’ with no Maidstone magistrate beholden to the Mortimer family.”
Ewan told Mick where to find him, silently praying that Jasper hadn’t let the bastard slip away. The dog was a playful beast used to herding harmless sheep, not deranged blackguards.
George shot Lily a smile filled with relief.
Ewan could see that George wanted to drop his medical instruments and swallow his niece in his arms, but he had blood all over his hands and was still working on one of those injured men. “Lily, are you hurt?”
“No, Uncle George. I’m fine. Just a little cold and hungry, that’s all.”
He nodded. “Can you stand on your own?”
She wrapped her arms securely around Ewan’s neck. “Yes, but I’m quite comfortable just where I am.”
Ewan laughed. “Good, because I’m not putting you down until I have you safely back with your family.”
And he didn’t. He held her while Homer and Mick prepared to ride off with Ashton and his knaves, and while he made arrangements for George and Bert to remain behind with the injured men. Holding Lily felt so right, as though she’d become a part of him... as though something important would be missing in his life without her. The feeling went beyond mere physical pleasure, though her body perfectly molded to the planes of his body. It was as though they were two pieces of a puzzle perfectly fitting together to complete it.
Within hours, Homer would report to the Farthingale family and bring reinforcements to assist George and Bert with those injured men. Within hours, he’d be facing the Farthingale family as well. That left him little time to figure out what to do about Lily. She was a forever sort of girl. He wasn’t thinking beyond the next two months. She felt perfect and right just now. Would he feel this way forever?
He gazed at Lily. Though she put on a brave face for her uncle, he knew she was still scared and shivering, not to mention exhausted and hungry. She’d never make it to London in her present state even if the weather turned warm and sunny, which it wasn’t going to if the red sky at dawn was any indication. Noticing her frown, he told Lily of the inn they’d passed about an hour’s ride north of Maidstone.