Page 94 of Outrageous

“It’s a good thing I brought my gun, since we’re definitely headed into bandit territory,” Andrew said after they’d marched a few moments in blessed silence.

“Yes, it’s a good thing,” Godric agreed. Not because he actually agreed, but because putting one foot in front of the other took all his attention. The truth was, Andrew was far more likely to slip and blow his own head off—or perhaps Godric’s—than anything else. But he simply hadn’t the strength to argue when Andrew had gone into excruciating detail regarding how he’d altered the big weapon so that it would fire without needing a live flame and twenty minutes to load it.

The day was still dry, although the clouds had begun to gather. Godric hoped Norton got back before it grew dark. If he brought the magistrate with him, they would find the note he’d left with Anthony and could at least begin looking for them.

“Why do you think Mrs. Crosby did it?” Andrew asked for the dozenth time.

“I couldn’t say,” Godric lied, for the dozenth time. In fact, he had a pretty good idea what was going on. She had some connection to Flynn or some member of his gang. And she must have thought bringing Eva to them would serve as a bargaining chip for something she wanted. What he didn’t know was whether Flynn would take advantage of such a plum as a marquess’s daughter, or whether he would live up to his promise.

He felt Andrew brush up beside him with his arquebus cradled in his arms, the business end pointing toward Godric’s head.

“Er, Andrew, could you prop it over your shoulder as we discussed?”

“What? Oh! Yes, yes of course. So sorry.” He slung the weapon over his opposite shoulder and cradled the butt with both hands. “It’s quite heavy,” he said a moment later.

Godric sighed. “Would you like me to carry it for a stretch?”

“Er, no, thank you. That is, perhaps in a little while.”

Godric knew the boy had a deep attachment to the gun and didn’t begrudge him his feelings, but he did wish he’d left the antique behind. If they had to move quickly, it would be less than useful to tote a heavy gun along while running.

“If you don’t mind my asking, sir, how long have you been married?”

Godric glanced down at the boy, but Andrew’s eyes were on the approaching woods and his lips were parted as he struggled to keep up with Godric’s punishing pace. He had no agenda that Godric could see. “Not long,” he finally said, and then, “Why?”

“I was just curious.” He cut Godric a quick glance. “You should have seen your wife’s face. If looks could have killed, Mrs. Crosby would be a smoking cinder.” His voice was an interesting mixture of awe and amusement.

“Oh?”

“If it hadn’t been for you—and her concern about what you’d been given—I think Eva would have jumped on Mrs. Crosby, loaded pistol or no.” Andrew laughed in obvious admiration, but Godric felt queasy. That would have been a fine piece of work: him stupidly nonconscious and Eva getting shot on his behalf. The cold fist that closed around his heart made him stumble.

Andrew set a hand beneath Godric’s elbow. “I say, sir, steady on. Do you wish to take minute?”

Godric couldn’t breathe and worried he’d lose his footing if he took another step, so he stopped, spread his feet wide, propped his hands on his knees and bent low, his head hanging while he struggled for breath. How easily there could have been another dead body on his conscience this morning—another name he could add to the ever-growing litany. He was some sort of walking bloody curse, and anyone who spent too much time with him would pay the price.

“My lord?” The soft, tentative voice gradually penetrated the dense fog of fear in his head.

Take yourself in hand, Godric, you can wallow in self-pity later. The boy—he’s counting on you. Perhaps you might get him killed, as well.

Godric thrust himself upright and Andrew jumped back. “I want you to go back to the inn,” he said in a harsh voice he’d not even used on his soldiers.

Andrew’s face fell. “But, who will help you if you encounter trouble?”

“If I encounter trouble I’ll turn back,” Godric assured him, rather than tell him the truth—that Andrew was far more likely to hinder than help.

“Respectfully, sir, you’re in no condition to do this alone. I will go with you.”

Opium, exhaustion, pain, and gnawing worry about Eva that verged on terror made him snap, “I wish you would not, Andrew. Quite frankly, I don’t want to be responsible for you in addition to myself. You will only slow me down, get in the way, or likely blow my head off with that bloody gun,” he said cruelly.

Twin spots of color on Andrew’s cheeks were all the more noticeable for his tightly compressed lips and pinched, white nostrils. “Very well,” he said, his voice stiff and dignified. “As you put it that way. I shall go back to the inn.”

Godric let him go without saying anything or bidding him good-bye. Instead he trudged toward the woods, where the road disappeared as if into a dark maw.

He’d walked in eerie silence for perhaps fifteen minutes when he heard a soft scuffing sound. He whipped out the pistol and spun in a circle, only to find Andrew some ways behind him.

“Don’t shoot!” He staggered backward and lost his footing, scrambling awkwardly to keep his feet while holding the big, ungainly weapon.

“Bloody hell,” Godric muttered, and then waved the boy forward. Once he was within speaking distance, Godric shook his head. “What about going back to the inn didn’t you understand?”