her in an instant, demanding to know whether she was hurt. ‘Only my pride,’ she assured him, glancing at where she had dropped the firearm. ‘What in the name of heaven is that thing?’
‘The Lord only knows! Looks to be something between a blunderbuss and a “Brown Bess” to me. A “Brown Bess” is a musket,’ he explained in response to her questioning look.
He cast her an impatient one in return as he helped her to her feet. ‘Don’t you know any better than to attempt to handle unfamiliar firearms, young woman?’ he demanded sharply, continued anxiety over her well-being making him sound far harsher than he had intended. ‘They can be notoriously unpredictable, not to mention downright dangerous. Though it appears,’ he added, betraying a hint of admiration in his expression now, as he glanced at the spot directly in front of the inn, where the fourth attacker lay motionless on the ground, with something which Daniel couldn’t quite make out lying on the road beside him, ‘that you managed to discharge that monstrosity with remarkable accuracy. No mean feat, my darling, believe me!’
He quite failed to notice the swift and faintly sheepish look cast up at him through long lashes, for his attention was captured by a few villagers who had begun to emerge from their houses in order to investigate the commotion. To remain a moment longer would, he knew, be to court more trouble. There was every chance that others in search of them were in the area. Furthermore, he didn’t relish the prospect of trying to explain to the French authorities just why they were being pursued across the country by a gang of hired assassins. Consequently he took a firm hold of a slender wrist and, before she knew what was happening, hauled Katherine willy-nilly out of the village towards a large stretch of rising pasture land, dotted with sheep happily grazing.
Katherine perfectly understood the reasons for their hasty departure. She could appreciate too why they could not have delayed in order to harness the horse to the gig. All the same, she felt that she might have been allowed the few seconds it would have taken to collect her bonnet from the blacksmith’s barn.
The wind whistling across the open ground caught at her hair, lashing strands across her face. The cowl on her cloak was of precious little use, for unless she kept a firm hold on it the wind whipped it back in a trice. She refrained from complaining, however, for she needed all her breath in order to keep abreast of her companion.
Daniel set a cracking pace, and Katherine found herself almost having to run in order to keep up with that elegant, long-striding gait. Not until they had left the village far behind, and he seemed satisfied that no one was giving chase, did he attempt to walk at a more moderate speed; even so he did not suggest that they rest until quite some time later, when the open landscape had given way to a vast woodland area.
Settling himself on the grass, Daniel leaned his back against the substantial trunk of a conveniently fallen tree. Although he wasn’t breathing particularly heavily, after their swiftly executed cross-country flight, Katherine wasn’t slow to note that he was looking a little flushed. Initially she didn’t give much thought to the unusual ruddy complexion, until she noticed him favouring his left arm, grasping it at frequent intervals beneath the folds of his cloak. Then, as he withdrew his right hand again, she clearly saw the telltale red stains between the long fingers.
‘Daniel, you’re hurt!’
Forgetting her own insignificant discomforts, she dropped to her knees beside him, and threw back his cloak before he had a chance to stop her. The instant her eyes focused on the charred portion of jacket just below the shoulder, and the dark stain surrounding the hole, she remembered the first shot fired in the barn. She had thought the attacker had missed his target entirely. Clearly he had not.
‘Why on earth didn’t you say something, you foolish creature!’ she scolded.
Daniel assured her that it was nothing, barely a scratch, but made no demur when she insisted that he remove his cloak and jacket, and then his shirt, because the wound was too high up on the arm to reach by merely rolling up the sleeve.
Obligingly, he pulled the linen garment over his head, sending his dark brown hair into disarray. It was by no means the first time Katherine had seen a person of the opposite sex in a state of undress. Many a time when she had lived in Ireland she had seen men remove their shirts on warm summer days before they had attempted to groom one of her father’s fine horses. So the sight of dark hair covering a well-muscled chest came as no surprise to her whatsoever. What sent a shock wave rippling through her, however, bringing her almost to the verge of tears, was the clear evidence of past suffering, and unmistakable bravery.
Without conscious thought, she reached out and began to trace the path of the longest scar, which ran from his right shoulder almost down to his pelvis, only to have her fingers swiftly captured in a firm yet gentle clasp.
‘What is it, Katherine?’ Daniel wasn’t slow to detect long lashes moistened by tears barely held in check. ‘What has occurred to upset you?’
‘I-I feel so very ashamed.’ Her voice was little more than a shaky whisper, but there was no mistaking the heartfelt contrition it contained. ‘So very ashamed that I ever thought so badly of you; that I foolishly attempted to hold you responsible for dear Helen’s death, when I always knew deep down that it wasn’t your fault.’
Although she didn’t attempt to draw her hand from his, she seemed unwilling, or unable, to meet his gaze, and her complexion had grown worryingly quite ashen. He didn’t doubt her sincerity, but was puzzled by the admission. He had been inclined to dismiss her dislike of him as nothing more than a pampered young woman’s childish spite. Now that he had come to know her a little better he was certain that that initial judgement had been sadly flawed. She was no foolish ninnyhammer prone to take a pet for no reason. Far more, he now realised, lay behind her former conduct towards him.
‘Why were you so determined to dislike me, Katherine?’ There was no response. Undeterred, he added, ‘Come, do you not think that the man you’ve treated with such contempt on occasions deserves an explanation?’
This succeeded in drawing her eyes briefly to his, before she turned her attention to his most recent injury. ‘Because it was far easier to blame you than myself,’ she finally admitted, astonishing him somewhat.
Removing her hand from his at last, Katherine delved into the pocket of her skirt for her handkerchief, and proceeded to dab at the wound, which blessedly was little more than a scratch. ‘I’m a scourge, Daniel. Everyone I have ever loved, or cared for deeply, every person with whom I have lived, has died. I tried to convince myself that Helen, at least, might have survived had she not lost the will to do so because she was mooning like a lovesick fool over you. It was grossly unfair of me to try to pin the blame on you. She was far too immature to capture a gentleman’s interest. I suspect you were hardly aware of her existence … just as you were hardly aware of mine when I lived with my grandfather for those few short months. How I wish now that I had never resided in Dorsetshire!’
Not knowing quite how to respond, and feeling confused by these startling disclosures, Daniel remained silent as he watched her rise to her feet, and move in that graceful way of hers over to the tiny stream which gurgled its way through the woodland just a few yards from where he sat.
He didn’t doubt for a moment that for some obscure reason she was determined to hold herself in some way responsible for the deaths of her grandfather and her friend, and possibly her parents too. He had no idea how Mr and Mrs O’Malley had met their maker, but there was no mystery about Colonel Fairchild’s demise, and Helen Rushton was by no means the only person to succumb to that outbreak of smallpox. Unless he was mistaken, her mother had perished too. So why was Katherine so determined to blame herself?
Although he would be forced to admit that,
