Lies and Misdemeanours (16 page)

Charlie followed Hetty, and suddenly bitterly regretted what they had shared last night. She deserved soft, clean sheets followed by a morning in bed to recuperate. He had given her a cold, hard floor that was liberally smattered with weeds, and danger that could result in her death.

If his assessment was accurate, they were about half a day’s ride away from Afferley if they took a direct route to get there. However, because they had no idea if Meldrew’s men were following them, they would have to take a couple of detours now.

By the time they were on the edge of the clearing, Charlie glanced back and watched one of the men disappear into the house.

“Let’s go,” he ordered.

He turned to face forward, glad to be able to leave the intruders behind, only to curse bitterly at the sight that lay before them.

Hetty almost cried aloud at the sight of two gunmen standing directly in their path. The dark garb they wore was almost hidden by the shadows that surrounded them, but the guns they held pointed toward her and Charlie were perfectly visible.

She closed her eyes on a silent prayer, and turned to look at Charlie. “What do we do?” she whispered.

“Get down,” one of the men called.

Charlie stared boldly back at him, but made no attempt to comply.

“Take a shot at me, and he dies,” he declared flatly. He lifted the gun he held and pointed it directly at one of the gunmen.

“Charlie?” Hetty whispered as she eyed the barrels of the guns the men pointed at them.

How could he challenge them at a time like this?
She cried desperately. She turned to glare at him, but his gaze was locked firmly on the gunmen.

“Just come with us,” one of the men countered.

“Afraid I can’t do that,” Charlie challenged. “You would be a fool if you tried to recapture me because I am not what I appear to be.”

“What’s that?” one of the men countered. “As far as I see it, you are a wanted criminal. A condemned man who escaped the gallows.”

Although he didn’t say as much, he glanced meaningfully at Hetty, as though he knew she was more of an accomplice than a victim. His gaze slid meaningfully to the gold band on her finger, and Charlie cursed his own ingenuity.

“If you kill me, or take me back to Derby, you are going to have the might of the War Office crashing down upon your heads,” Charlie snapped coldly. “Meldrew’s time is up. You can tell him that from me. Oh, and my boss, Sir Hugo Dunnicliffe. Can you remember that?”

The men looked at each other. Their momentary hesitation was enough for Charlie, who immediately launched himself off his saddle, and dragged Hetty to the floor with him as he went. They landed on the floor with a heavy thump, but he didn’t take the time to apologise for being so rough with her. Their sudden movement spooked their horses, which lunged toward the men, aided along by the hearty slaps Charlie gave their legs.

“Move,” Charlie growled at her. He half-crawled; half-dragged Hetty through the rough thicket, toward the far edge of the trees and the men’s waiting horses.

Hetty gasped at the speed in which she suddenly found herself on the floor, but she had no choice but to be dragged along. Twigs and bramble clawed painfully at her limbs, piercing her rough clothing to reach the flesh beneath. Tears gathered on her lashes, but she daren’t hesitate. They were free of the undergrowth before she could think about what they were doing.

“Go,” Charlie snapped as he lifted her into one of the saddles, and roughly shoved her new horse toward the path that led to the main road.

He didn’t wait to see if she was moving. He vaulted into the saddle of the second horse and spun it around to race after her. Hetty had no idea which way to go. Thankfully, she was overtaken by Charlie whose horse charge past hers with long, ground-eating strides. Her horse suddenly gave chase and, together, they charged through the woods toward the main road.

“Follow me,” Charlie whispered, and nodded to the opposite end of the clearing. They couldn’t risk going back the other way because of the threat of running into more groups. Instead, they headed in the direction they should be going anyway, and could only hope that they weren’t ambushed on the way.

“What do we do?” Hetty cried moments later when they reached the brow of the hill, and spied a group of men trotting toward them.

“We have to go around them.” Charlie swore in disgust.

Hetty stared after him as he turned his horse away from the approaching riders. She glanced at the area around them but, with men behind them as well now, as far as she could see, they were doomed.

“Please, Charlie, what are we going to do?”

Charlie sighed and glared at her. “Sir Hugo should be here today. We need to get to Afferley.”

“Sir Hugo, Sir Hugo, Sir Hugo,” Hetty snapped. “Well, I hope for your sake that this Sir Hugo of yours does what you think he should do. As far as I can see, the man must be able to walk on water, because you expect him to get here, and take on the likes of Meldrew, armed with nothing more than his name. What happens if he cannot persuade Meldrew that he is with the War Office? What happens in Meldrew doesn’t recognise his authority, and hangs you before you are found innocent?”

In deference to their pursuers, she tried to keep her voice low, but her temper surged out of nowhere. She shook with the force of it, and was driven to vent it.

In that moment, she hated Meldrew for his scheming, and Meldrew’s thugs for their determination to pursue innocent men. Charlie’s next words didn’t help ease her anger either.

“Hetty, nobody is going to get hung.”

Hetty’s temper grew to mammoth proportions. “You nearly did!” she bit out, and pointed one long finger at the centre of his chest. “They were going to put the noose around your neck, and would have done if it wasn’t for me.”

“Hetty, control yourself,” he countered quietly, but Hetty was having none of it.

She leaned forward in the saddle, and glared at him.

“I am perfectly calm,” she ground out. “I am done with this charade. I am done being chased through this blasted countryside by idiots like Meldrew, and his men. We should be at Afferley by now and, do you know what? That is exactly where I am going.”

“Let’s go then,” Charlie sighed. He knew that it was best to give her some time for her temper to cool, and lapsed into somewhat thoughtful silence while they quickly left the area.

An hour later, Charlie studied her and shook his head at the fury that was still visible on her face. He began to wonder if it was just Meldrew that she was angry with and, not for the first time that morning, regretted last night.

He hated the discord between them, and not knowing what she was thinking or feeling even more.

When he couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer, he studied the area around them. They hadn’t seen any trace of the jailers since they had left them in the woods ages ago, and he was as confident as he could be that they were in fact miles away. It was enough for him to make a snap decision.

“Get down,” he demanded harshly.

Hetty stared at him, but didn’t move.

“I said, get down,” he growled.

She stared toward the hills and contemplated the wisdom of riding off in total defiance of him but, if she was honest, she had no idea where Afferley was. It was foolish to leave him behind. Still, it irked her to have to comply with his order. To her surprise, once she had carefully dismounted, he disappeared into the woods behind him, leaving her with no choice but to follow.

The silence of the woods was broken only by the sound of birdsong, but it did little to ease the tension that hovered over them.

Hetty stared at Charlie’s back at he walked a few feet ahead of her. Questions hovered on her lips, but the tension in the air forced her to keep them silent.

When he did stop, it was to motion to a small stream.

“Let them take a drink,” he said in a voice that was almost too quiet.

Hetty released her horse, and watched it join his beside the stream. Before she could follow, her elbow was suddenly caught in a firm grip and she was swung around to face him.

His lips swallowed her gasp, and her breath was squeezed out of her as she was held tightly against him.

Before she could return the caress, he lifted his head and glared down at her.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he growled darkly.

One hand captured the back of her head, and held her still while his lips laid claim to her senses. She had little choice but to stand and allow him to take what he wanted. She hadn’t the will to deny him anything. Not when his need seemed to match hers.

The feel of him, strong and steady before her, was more than she could deny herself. Her fingers tightened in the folds of his shirt and drew him closer as she returned his kisses with the depth of emotion she knew was love.

“God, don’t ever try to go off like that by yourself again,” he grumbled. “Ever.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “We are together.”

The sound of the raw emotion in his voice brought tears to her eyes. This time, they slowly trickled down her cheeks.

“I am sorry for shouting at you,” she hiccupped.

“You have every right to be angry,” he sighed. “I hate Meldrew too, but we cannot let our anger make us foolish. That search party are far too close for my liking. We need to get out of the area.”

She smiled tentatively at him and nodded, but couldn’t hide the worry from her eyes.

There was something a little beseeching about the gaze she turned on him, but he had idea how to answer it. This time, when his head lowered toward hers, the atmosphere shifted and, despite the fact that they were in the middle of the woods, they gave in to the need to assure themselves that all was forgiven, and they were still very much together.

Hetty gasped when he lifted her and pushed her back against the tree. She clutched at his shoulders to steady herself, surprised at the ferocity of the raw need that swept through them both. Her hands were as desperate as his as laces were loosened and clothes adjusted. Her gasp when he took possession was the last sound either of them heard for a very long time.

“You know, one of these days we are actually going to make love in a bed,” he murmured a little ruefully once her cries had subsided, and they lay in replete abandon on the thickly padded forest floor.

She smiled up at him, and opened her mouth to speak only for the distant peel of church bells to break the silence. Her smile dimmed as she listened to the noise.

“What day is it?” she asked with a frown.

Charlie thought about that for a moment. While he had been in jail, he had barely registered whether it was morning, noon or night. “I think it is Saturday, or Sunday.”

Hetty counted the days. “It’s Sunday,” she sighed. “Those are the bells for service. Are we near Hemsley?”

“No. We are several miles away,” he sighed.

Charlie helped her right her clothes, and settled her on his lap. “Who is running the services in Hemsley now? Has a new vicar been found yet?”

“I think the verger is doing everything the vicar used to do,” Hetty replied. “Snetterton has been the verger for years. He has delusions of grandeur, that one.”

“How so?”

Hetty sighed, and absently stroked the laces on Charlie’s shirt as she talked. “He was always trying to tell the vicar how to run the place. He organised so much, and often put many of the women off going to help out at the village fete and the like because he was so dogmatic about what he wanted. Everything had to be done his way, or not at all. The vicar tried to get Snetterton to let the villagers do things their way, on several occasions, but Snetterton just ignored him. I heard rumours that the Reverend Potts and Snetterton had many arguments.”

“The last time I heard from Arthur, several years ago, he was at a church in Cumbria. I was surprised when I received a letter from him telling me that he had moved to Hemsley.”

“Why? I mean, what’s wrong with Hemsley?” She frowned up at him a little defensively.

He looked down at her, and couldn’t risk dropping a kiss on her lips.

“Nothing at all,” he replied obliquely. “Hemsley has many, many fine attributes,” he drawled knowingly as his gaze slid gently down her curves pressed so lovingly against him. “In fact, the longer I am there, the better the attractions are.”

Hetty smiled at him, inwardly thrilled at his obvious attraction, although she gave him a mock frown and turned his chin around when his gaze lingered on her long legs.

“The verger?” she prompted when he didn’t seem inclined to speak.

“Oh, well, I don’t know if he is half as appealing. He is old you see, and not really my type at all.”

Hetty giggled, and made no protest when he began to kiss her again.

“He is a stickler for good manners and proper behaviour. He wouldn’t like you at all,” she teased.

“I rather felt as though he was wary about something. He seemed strangely reluctant to show me the spot where Arthur had been found,” Charlie sighed with a frown when it became evident that she was determined to keep his mind on the conversation.

“Snetterton found your friend. Maybe it was reluctance to re-visit painful memories,” Hetty sighed and pressed a kiss to the base of his neck.

“Not if they argued so much, it wouldn’t be.”

“Mmm?”

Charlie leaned backward enough to be able to look down at her. He knew from the blank look on her face that she wasn’t following the discussion, and didn’t know whether to be pleased or not. He wanted to indulge her as often as he could but, once again, now was neither the time nor the place.

His words suddenly registered on Hetty. She stopped kissing him, and thought over what he had just said.

“How long had Arthur been at the church?”

Hetty considered that. “He arrived last autumn, about November-time. He argued with Snetterton about the arrangements for the Christmas service. Everyone had their doubts about whether Snetterton would remain in post for much longer after that. He doesn’t like to have his command questioned.”