What if he thought she had left him? The way his mother had left his father?
Regardless of Kendal’s unflinching demeanor, there was a sensitivity to him that ran heart deep. It was one of the endearing qualities about him that she was particularly drawn to.
If he’d thought she’d hurt him, however…
Mongerton suddenly slammed his meaty fist on the padded bench. The entire cabin shuddered. Despite Sophia’s resolve to not show any fear, she started with a little jump.
“Did he touch you?” he snarled.
She raised her brows at his foolishness and pointed to the linen tied against her mouth.
He huffed in irritation and sat forward, reaching behind her head to untie the binding. Relief from the pressure around her mouth was immediate. She worked her jaw to encourage the feeling and swallowed, wishing for something to wash away the taste that sat musty and foul on her tongue.
Mongerton leveled a gaze at her, his eyes slightly rheumy with age. “Did he touch you?”
“You never will.” She narrowed her eyes. “And that’s what really matters.”
Quick as lightning, he reached out, grabbing her by the front of her gown, just under the sash where the pale blue silk belled out around her frame. A harsh rending sounded as the delicate fabric gave against his violent grip.
“You’re mine.” His breath was sour as it washed against her face. “You are my prize.”
She kept her eyes locked on his watery gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “I’m already wed to Kendal.”
“Whatever has been done in this heathen country can be undone in London.” He leaned toward her, so his face was nearly touching hers. “You will be my wife.”
“Never.”
His hand drew back and flew across her face. Pain exploded at the side of her cheek, and her head snapped hard to the right. She gasped at the offense.
All the time they had been in the carriage, she had thought he would never strike her. She understood now what a naïve thought that had been.
For the first time, there was a very real element of danger.
“Rider,” a voice outside the carriage announced.
Sophia straightened in her seat, invigorated with hope. Kendal had found her.
Mongerton grimaced and looked out the window. She tried to follow suit, but he shoved her back to block her view, making her sit down hard in her seat.
But she didn’t need to see the man riding toward them to confirm it was Kendal. The curse Mongerton issued was proof enough.
He rapped on the cabin ceiling. “You know what to do.”
His words made Sophia’s blood go cold. As did the way that he curled his lips into a malicious grin. “If you were so easily able to marry in this wild land, so too can you be easily widowed. Men accidentally die all the time, even earls.”
“No,” she whispered.
A rider flew by the window, going in the opposite direction. Toward Kendal.
“So if you did indeed already marry him as you claim…” Mongerton turned from the window and pulled the curtain shut. “It appears you are about to become a widow.”
No sooner had he said the words than the deafening bang sounded—the report of a gun being fired.
That had been bloody close.
Kendal rode hard toward the man who had aimed the pistol at him. Thank God the things were notoriously inaccurate shots, especially on horseback. But it did confirm exactly what he suspected: Sophia was in that carriage.
Determination burned through him like fire.
He would save her. No matter what it took.
The blighter who’d fired on him rounded again, his gun now useless after its discharge. Still, his empty pistol could still be used as a weapon, its weight perfect for bludgeoning.
All Kendal was armed with was his wits. He’d left with such haste that he hadn’t thought to gather any weapons beforehand. However, after years of running whisky, he was quite resourceful.
The man came at him with the pistol cocked back in his hand to strike at Kendal.
Which was why Kendal ran directly into it.
His heart slammed in his chest, not with fear, but with the importance of succeeding. As the cur brought down the weapon, Kendal ducked to the side and reached out, grabbing and savagely tugging the weapon from the bastard’s hand. It fell into the grass with a thunk.
The man jerked in surprise.
Which was why the tactic worked so well. No one expected their victim to charge into the attack.
Kendal dropped to the ground and hastily scooped up the heavy gun.
Mongerton’s lackey turned back toward him again, still on his horse. And no doubt assuming he had the advantage.
The assailant rode at full tilt toward Kendal. The earth thundered with the hoofbeats coming directly at him. The rider was moving, and Kendal was not, meaning Kendal would have the advantage of good aim.
He waited until his attacker was nearly upon him, then took careful aim. The horse was almost in front of him now, its chest filling his vision.
It was in that last, critical moment that Kendal released the gun, sending it sailing toward the man’s head. Quick as lightning, Kendal dashed from the horse’s path and tucked his legs toward his torso as he fell to clear himself from those hooves that could cause so much damage. He watched, his body tense, as his assailant fell from the horse like a sack of barley.
Kendal scrambled to his feet and raced over to where the man lay still. After retrieving the empty pistol, Kendal checked the unconscious man, confirming he was still alive. There were no additional weapons on him, save a few bullets and some gunpowder to reload the pistol.
The seconds it took to ready the gun were precious but necessary. Kendal couldn’t go up against Mongerton unarmed again. He swatted the horse on the rump, sending it running in the opposite direction, away from the man who would use it to chase Kendal, and mounted his own steed.
Distant billows of dust kicked up on the open road indicated that the carriage was still close enough to reach. Kendal leaned low on his horse and encouraged the beast into a hard gallop.
The carriage came into view quickly, and yet another man on horseback charged toward Kendal. Except this time, he was ready. He aimed the gun toward his opponent and fired without hesitation. They were close enough that his aim was true, striking the bastard in the shoulder.
It wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like the very devil, and keep him from climbing back on his horse.
Wild desperation raged in Kendal. Sophia was in that carriage, only a stone’s throw away. And yet still in danger.
Galloping once more, he focused his efforts this time toward the driver. He aimed his pistol, which the man did not know wasn’t loaded. What he did most likely know was that his comrade had just been shot, and Kendal was the victor.
As Kendal hoped, the driver jerked the horses to a stop and put his hands up.
“I have no need for you.” Kendal indicated the open road behind them with his pistol.
The man needed no further encouragement and leapt from his seat and sprinted in the opposite direction in one simultaneous move. Leaving only Mongerton to contend with.
Kendal wished he had more gunpowder to refill his pistol. No doubt, the other man was armed.
All at once, the carriage jostled violently, and a distinctly feminine voice cried out.
His heart stopped mid-beat as everything in him went cold.