Read Online No Choice but Seduction by Johanna Lindsey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Johanna Lindsey
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Malory would find Geordie and kill him. He could envision no other outcome—unless he could find Maisie first.
He borrowed a saddle for one of his coach horses, thinking he could catch up to Maisie much quicker that way. Having to pass through Northampton slowed him down a little, since the inn they’d stayed at was on the north road out of town. But the city wasn’t as big as it might have been after a fire had destroyed most of it in 1675, and the streets had actually been widened during the rebuilding.
South was the only direction he could think to go. The child would travel in that direction to get back to London. Hopefully she hadn’t just set off down the road on foot. Maisie would find her too easily that way. But she could have gotten a ride if she was smart enough to ask someone. It was a well-traveled road, especially in the morning when produce was being brought in to market. She might even already be home. He could hope…
It was Maisie he had to find and drag home. Not that he wouldn’t take Roslynn’s daughter home if he happened to find her instead. But he’d just as soon not go anywhere near the Malorys. And a lot of travelers were on the road. He didn’t ask them all, but the few he did stop kept pointing him south. Maisie was making a nuisance of herself, apparently, according to one farmer.
But then the traffic slowed down. He’d passed several roads that went off in other directions. He was beginning to wonder if he was going the right way still. Did this road go all the way to London? He couldn’t remember from his one other time in England. And there’d been no one to ask for the last half hour. But then he saw another coach heading his way and rode quickly toward it.
Anthony Malory’s driver had been told to stop for no one, and he’d had to get nasty a couple times, to keep from slowing down. But this new traveler was persistent and rode alongside the coach for a moment to ask, “Ha’ ye seen a Scotswoman? She’d be driving a coach, I’m guessing, unless she stole a horse,” and then in a shout as the coach kept rolling by him, “Ye could ha’ just said nae, mon!”
Anthony yanked aside the coach curtain, vaguely recognizing that voice. He just caught sight of the carrot-red hair as the petitioner continued on his way down the road. That was enough for him to pound on the roof to get the driver to stop. Geordie Cameron in the same vicinity as the people who’d taken his daughter? The same man who’d gone to extremes to steal Roslynn’s fortune from her eight years ago? Coincidental? Not bloody likely.
He leapt out of the coach before it fully stopped. Geordie was still close enough that Anthony didn’t even bother grabbing his horse tied to the back of the coach. He simply raced after him and almost reached him, too. But Geordie had heard something to make him glance back. And seeing the one man he’d hoped to never see again bearing down on him…
Geordie shrieked, slammed his heels into his mount, and tore off into the woods alongside the road. Disgusted to have missed grabbing him by mere inches, Anthony ran back for his own mount.
Jeremy was out of the coach by then and even handed Anthony the reins to his horse, having witnessed the chase. He merely asked, “Who is it?”
“A dead man,” Anthony said as he mounted up and turned around to give chase. “He just doesn’t know it yet,” he added before he, too, disappeared into the woods.
His mount was a Thoroughbred. Geordie was riding a coach horse. It didn’t take long to catch up to him, yank him off his horse, and drop him on the ground.
Anthony dismounted slowly, now that he had his man. Geordie was staring up at him terrified, while trying to scoot backward.
“Wait!” Geordie shouted. “Ye mun hear me oout! It wasna me!”
It was the wrong thing to say, because it smacked of culpability. Anthony bent over to lift Geordie’s face up to his fist.
“Och, God, no’ my teeth again.
He borrowed a saddle for one of his coach horses, thinking he could catch up to Maisie much quicker that way. Having to pass through Northampton slowed him down a little, since the inn they’d stayed at was on the north road out of town. But the city wasn’t as big as it might have been after a fire had destroyed most of it in 1675, and the streets had actually been widened during the rebuilding.
South was the only direction he could think to go. The child would travel in that direction to get back to London. Hopefully she hadn’t just set off down the road on foot. Maisie would find her too easily that way. But she could have gotten a ride if she was smart enough to ask someone. It was a well-traveled road, especially in the morning when produce was being brought in to market. She might even already be home. He could hope…
It was Maisie he had to find and drag home. Not that he wouldn’t take Roslynn’s daughter home if he happened to find her instead. But he’d just as soon not go anywhere near the Malorys. And a lot of travelers were on the road. He didn’t ask them all, but the few he did stop kept pointing him south. Maisie was making a nuisance of herself, apparently, according to one farmer.
But then the traffic slowed down. He’d passed several roads that went off in other directions. He was beginning to wonder if he was going the right way still. Did this road go all the way to London? He couldn’t remember from his one other time in England. And there’d been no one to ask for the last half hour. But then he saw another coach heading his way and rode quickly toward it.
Anthony Malory’s driver had been told to stop for no one, and he’d had to get nasty a couple times, to keep from slowing down. But this new traveler was persistent and rode alongside the coach for a moment to ask, “Ha’ ye seen a Scotswoman? She’d be driving a coach, I’m guessing, unless she stole a horse,” and then in a shout as the coach kept rolling by him, “Ye could ha’ just said nae, mon!”
Anthony yanked aside the coach curtain, vaguely recognizing that voice. He just caught sight of the carrot-red hair as the petitioner continued on his way down the road. That was enough for him to pound on the roof to get the driver to stop. Geordie Cameron in the same vicinity as the people who’d taken his daughter? The same man who’d gone to extremes to steal Roslynn’s fortune from her eight years ago? Coincidental? Not bloody likely.
He leapt out of the coach before it fully stopped. Geordie was still close enough that Anthony didn’t even bother grabbing his horse tied to the back of the coach. He simply raced after him and almost reached him, too. But Geordie had heard something to make him glance back. And seeing the one man he’d hoped to never see again bearing down on him…
Geordie shrieked, slammed his heels into his mount, and tore off into the woods alongside the road. Disgusted to have missed grabbing him by mere inches, Anthony ran back for his own mount.
Jeremy was out of the coach by then and even handed Anthony the reins to his horse, having witnessed the chase. He merely asked, “Who is it?”
“A dead man,” Anthony said as he mounted up and turned around to give chase. “He just doesn’t know it yet,” he added before he, too, disappeared into the woods.
His mount was a Thoroughbred. Geordie was riding a coach horse. It didn’t take long to catch up to him, yank him off his horse, and drop him on the ground.
Anthony dismounted slowly, now that he had his man. Geordie was staring up at him terrified, while trying to scoot backward.
“Wait!” Geordie shouted. “Ye mun hear me oout! It wasna me!”
It was the wrong thing to say, because it smacked of culpability. Anthony bent over to lift Geordie’s face up to his fist.
“Och, God, no’ my teeth again.
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