“Andrew?” she called softly. Only silence met her. She stood on her toes and peeked over the stone outcropping that curved around the springs and peered down the darkened path. Seeing nothing but inky shadows, she listened for several seconds yet heard nothing save leaves rustling in the soft breeze. Had she imagined the sound? Or had Andrew perhaps tripped on a branch or tree root in the darkness?
“Andrew?” she called again, a bit louder this time. Silence. She cursed the fact that she hadn’t brought a lantern with her, but she knew the path to the springs so well she could navigate it with her eyes closed. Besides, she had not wanted to risk anyone possibly seeing the light from the house. Had Andrew also tried to avoid discovery and been injured as a result?
She stepped from behind the rocks and walked briskly along the path. The instant she rounded the curve she saw the prone form lying on the ground.
“Andrew!” Heart in her throat, she rushed forward, praying he wasn’t badly hurt. Just as she reached him, she was grabbed roughly from behind. A strong arm gripped her just below her bosom, imprisoning her arms against her side, and jerked her backward, off her feet. She managed to cry out once before the attacker clamped his other hand over her mouth.
Catherine kicked and thrashed wildly, but it was quickly obvious she was no match for this man’s superior strength. He half dragged, half carried her toward the springs. And away from Andrew.
Andrew. Dear God, he must have been a victim of this brigand. Was he still alive? She redoubled her frantic efforts, twisting, kicking, but to no avail as she was dragged ever closer to the water.
Distant sounds, rising and falling like a rapid tide, permeated the thick fog dulling Andrew’s mind. A vicious ache throbbed behind his eyes, and he dragged his heavy lids open with a Herculean effort. He blinked and looked up at… the dark sky?
It required all his strength to push himself into a sitting position, an effort that forced him to close his eyes against the nausea and sharp pains radiating from his head. He pulled in several deep breaths, trying to assimilate what had happened and why the hell his head hurt so badly. He’d been walking to the springs. To meet Catherine. A noise behind him. Then… someone attacking him from behind. His eyes sprang open. Catherine.
A scraping sound, followed by a muffled grunt, coming from the area near the springs caught his attention, and he forced himself to stand. He staggered a few steps and had to press his palm against a tree trunk for several seconds until the dizziness passed, and his equilibrium returned. After his vision cleared, he moved silently down the path. When he rounded the curve, the sight that met his gaze stilled everything inside him-breath, blood, heart.
Catherine, struggling mightily, was being dragged behind the tall rocks surrounding the springs by a dark-clad figure. They disappeared from sight and Andrew dashed forward. He’d taken less than a half a dozen steps when he heard Catherine cry out. Her wail was silenced by a loud splash.
Blood pounding in his ears, Andrew raced ahead. He rounded the rocks and instantly assessed the situation. The bastard was looking into the bubbling spring. Clearly he’d thrown Catherine into the water, as she was nowhere to be seen. And she hadn’t surfaced…
With a roar of outrage, Andrew grabbed the man by collar and lifted him off his feet. Their eyes met, and a shock of recognition radiated through Andrew. “You bastard,” he growled. His fist flashed, smashing into the man’s nose. He then heaved him backward, against the rocks. The man’s body hit with a thud. With a groan and blood running down his face, he sank.
Andrew didn’t wait to see the bastard hit the ground. He jumped into the gurgling spring. Warm water closed over his head, and he fought the panic seizing him in a vise grip. His feet hit something hard and he pushed upward. His head broke the surface, and he pulled in a gasping breath as his feet settled on the bottom and warm water swirled around his chest.
He waded farther into the pool, swishing his hands under the water, his eyes frantically scanning the surface. A few feet in front of him he caught sight of what looked like a piece of dark material. He grabbed for it and tugged.
It was Catherine. Her gown. He jerked her upward, getting her head out of the water. She lolled like a limp rag in his arms.
“Catherine.”His voice came out in a harsh rasp. Cradling her with one arm, the water swirling around them, he pushed the wet hair from her face. His fingers encountered a lump just above her ear, and his jaw clenched. She must have hit her head when that bastard threw her in.
“Catherine… please, dear God…”He lightly shook her and firmly patted her cheeks, willing her to breathe, unable to draw a breath himself as he stared down at her pale, wet, motionless face. He gathered her closer, squeezing her to him, whispering her name, begging her to breathe. To open her eyes.
Suddenly she coughed. Coughed again. Then gasped for breath.
“That’s it,” Andrew said, patting her sharply between the shoulder blades. After several more choking coughs, her eyelids fluttered open, and she gazed at him with a dazed expression. She blinked, then lifted a shaking wet hand to his cheek.
“Andrew.”
That hoarse whisper was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “I’m right here, Catherine.”
“You were hurt. But you’re all right.”
He most certainly was not. In the blink of an eye he’d nearly lost everything that mattered to him.
Fear flashed in her eyes and she squirmed in his arms. “There’s a man, Andrew. He grabbed me, and must have injured you.”
“I know. He’s-”
Andrew’s gaze froze on the empty spot where he’d last seen their attacker slithering down the rock wall. In his desperate attempt to pull Catherine to safety he’d momentarily forgotten the bastard. Obviously, he’d only been stunned. He quickly scanned the area, but saw nothing.
“He’s gone.” Holding tight to Catherine, he waded to the edge of the spring and gently set her on the smooth rock ledge. By the time he’d exited the water, Catherine had risen to her feet.
“Can you walk?” he asked, alternating his watchful gaze from her face to their surroundings.
“Yes.”
He slipped his knife from his boot, cursing himself for not gutting the bastard when he’d had the chance, but all his thoughts had been focused on getting to Catherine before it was too late. And he’d nearly been too late.
“I hurt him,” Andrew whispered next to her ear, “but clearly not badly enough. I hope he’s off licking his wounds and won’t make another attempt tonight, but I can’t be sure. We’re going to walk as quickly and quietly as we can back to the house. Do not let go of my hand.”
She nodded. Gripping his knife in one hand and tightly clasping Catherine’s wet hand in the other, they started down the dark path. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the house without further incident.
After locking the door behind them, Andrew lit an oil lamp and took a moment to examine the lump on her head. She winced when his fingers gently probed the tender spot, but she assured him, “I’m fine.”
“All right. I want to search and secure the house.” He lit another lantern, then handed it to her. “Stay close to me.” He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight.
“I want to check on Spencer,” she said, her eyes filled with concern.
“That’s first,” he agreed, leading the way up the stairs.
After ascertaining that Spencer was safe, Andrew whispered, “Stay here with him. I want to check the rest of the rooms. Lock the door behind me and do not open it for anyone except me.” He held out his knife. “Take this.”
Her eyes widened, and she audibly swallowed. But she took the weapon, determination gleaming in her eyes.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
Andrew nodded, then left the room. Once he’d heard the lock click into place behind him, he immediately headed toward his bedchamber. After making certain no one lurked in the room, he pulled his pistol and another knife from the leather satchel in the bottom of the wardrobe.
“I’m ready for you now, you bastard.” Dozens of questions buzzed through his mind, the loudest of which was
Slipping the knife into his boot, he carried the lantern in one hand, hefted the comforting weight of his pistol in
