How could they have known of their quarry’s presence?

He rose and held his hand down to her. “The sooner you’re got to safety, the better,” he said. “We don’t know what they have planned.”

Serena strode toward Samson once she was on her feet “Well?” she said impatiently. “Will you help me up?” Annoyance surged through him, replacing his concern. “It would be my pleasure, princess,” he said sarcastically.

She raised her chin and somehow managed to look down her nose at him, a remarkable feat, since he was nearly a head taller than she. “You needn’t speak in such a way. Shall we be on our way, or not?”

He glared at her and then stalked toward Samson. His bad arm ached like the devil from pulling her on behind him earlier, but he reached down to do so again.

“And how am I to ride?” she demanded, again appearing to look down her nose at him, though he was so much farther above her.

He held back the choice words he longed to hurl at her. She could at least show some gratitude to him. He had just saved her from danger, from being abducted again, or perhaps something worse. Much worse.

His anger faded. She had known exactly what would be in store for her, should her captors decide to use the remaining ropes on her. He’d felt it in the increased tension of her body against his, in the way she’d

clutched his waist. What else would have happened to her, he wondered, had she not escaped as she had?

“Never mind, princess,” he said more gently, and held his arms down to her. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes before she grasped his hands and let him pull her up. This time he settled her before him, and the feel of her as she leaned back against his chest brought an odd sensation to his throat. Steeling himself against it, he took up the reins, his arms encircling her. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” Her voice was softer now, filled with that same uncertainty he’d seen in her eyes.

“Hold on, then, at least until we’re back on the road.”

“Do you think they’re truly gone?”

“Yes.”

She sighed, and he felt some of the tension leave her. “Thank God. I so feared we’d be seen.” She patted Samson’s neck as they emerged from the woods onto the road. “I am surprised at how well your horse behaved.”

“Samson is an old campaigner,” he said. “Never flinched or bolted, even at Corunna.”

She turned her head to look at him. “You were at Corunna?”

“Yes,” he said shortly.

“I’m sure you fought well.”

He looked down at her in surprise. Most people reacted with horror or prurient interest on the rare occasions when he spoke of his experiences. “Not well enough.”

You’re hard on yourself.” She faced forward again. “Whatever happened could not have been your fault.” Perhaps not, but he was to blame for other things. “Thank you,” he said shortly. “I must apologize to you. My language has been intolerable.”

Your language!” she exclaimed, and burst out

laughing. “All that has happened, and you’re concerned about that?”

A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “It seems the thing to do.”

“Do you always do what is expected of you?” she asked as they turned down a lane.

“Usually.”

“So do I,” she said after a moment, all merriment gone from her voice.

Now what, he wondered, was that about? He cleared his throat “I am surprised we’ve not come to the house yet.”

“Are you certain we’re on the right lane?”

“I believe so.