Perilous Risk by Natasha Blackthorne Page A

known her as a practical yet sunny-natured young woman with a lively laugh and a gentle, kind manner of speaking. She’d been a stabilising influence, the kind of woman who could listen to a man with such genuine empathy and understanding that he couldn’t help but feel instantly lighter of heart.
    Skilled and efficient, she’d been a laundress who was handy with her needle, an expert nursemaid, a highly sought out helpmate among the officers. The wages she had commanded had made the other women green-eyed with envy.
    Of a sudden, a passage from Proverbs leapt into his mind.
    A wife of noble character who can find her?
    She is worth far more than rubies.
    Indeed. Such was Rebecca Howland. An Incomparable.
    Was it any surprise that Stephen had never forgotten her…or that he had failed to find another woman who could come close to matching her in his estimation?
    She shook her head wildly. “No, no, you only know the me on the outside. I am expert at being a fraud. You don’t know what I am really like on the inside.”
    Her voice carried a note of rising hysteria. The last of his lust drained away and was replaced by intense sympathy.
    “Then tell me, Rebecca.” He touched her mussed hair. His fingertips glided over strains that were softer than cornsilk, slightly cool and still damp with rain. “Tell me your fears.”
    “Rats. I am terrified of rats.” She shuddered violently. “All those years sleeping in barracks and tents, and I was terrified of being bitten in my sleep. No one knew but Jon. He let me keep cats even on campaign. And I felt safe again. But they won’t let me have my cats in prison.” She was speaking hurriedly, rambling.
    “Shh.” He caressed her hair.
    “Rats have such sharp little teeth and they can sneak up on you and they-they—”
    Ah, yes, rats. He did indeed know about rats.
    “Rebecca.” He spoke firmly. “You must stay calm.”
    “Y-you said we cannot know what she will do.”
    “Indeed, we cannot. That is why we must keep our heads and act decisively. But you must trust me.”
    “I don’t know you.”
    Her words sliced into him. Her stricken expression stung him even more. No, he mustn’t give in to maudlin personal feelings. It wouldn’t help the situation. He must remain strong, firm, focused.
    “You know me.”
    She shook her head frantically. “No, no I don’t.”
    “You must try to trust me.”
    “Oh, Stephen. It isn’t that easy.”
    “Will you please try?”
    She stared at him blankly for long moments.
    “There’s no time for us to argue the matter.” He attempted to speak calmly, though the urgency of the situation was beginning to press upon him. Truly, he did not know what this duchess would really do. The woman might be mad. And he never knew when a more severe attack of pain would render him incapable of action. He must get things in motion soon.
    “Oh God.” She bit her lip then turned back to him. “You’re exactly right. She could send for the magistrate at any moment. She may have already done so.”
    “You must come with me.”
    “Yes.”
    Could she have sounded any less confident? Less trusting?
    “I own a property in Cornwall. That’s just where we need to go. Someplace remote.”
    “You mean I should run?”
    “It would be better for you to be out of reach. For your whereabouts to be unknown to others.”

    Rebecca gaped at Stephen. In the glow of the lamplight, his masculine beauty appeared otherworldly; he looked like a beautiful archangel, sent to her in her most trying moment.
    Heavens, he’d just told her that she’d become a fugitive.
    She couldn’t go home.
    She hadn’t considered not standing her ground. She was innocent. She just needed help with the strategy she must take from someone experienced in dealing with the law and the power and caprice of the aristocracy.
    “It’s going to be all right, sweeting.” His voice was so assured. So comforting.
    The reality of the situation finally hit her with brutal effect.