“What’s all this? Let the boy go.”
The relief Evie had just begun to feel drained away at the appearance of the burly Mr. Thomas. He’d seemed large to her before, when the matter was only a business transaction, but now, with his friendly smile replaced by a glower, and his enormous hands curled into fists, he looked a veritable giant.
He’ll tear McAlistair in two.
She braced herself, for what she didn’t know—to run, to pull McAlistair away, to pull the blacksmith away.
McAlistair threw a hard glance at Mr. Thomas.
“You’ll stay out of this,” he said, very much like a man who didn’t merely expect to be obeyed but knew without question that he would be.
Mr. Thomas didn’t appear inclined to disabuse him of that notion. He stopped in his tracks. “What’s the boy done?”
“Accosted the lady.”
To her surprise, the blacksmith looked first to her for confirmation. Her nod elicited a string of desperate denials from the apprentice.
“I weren’t doing nothin’! They lie! They’re liars! She—” He had no choice but to cut off his words when McAlistair once again tightened his hold.
“Let the boy go,” Mr. Thomas said. “I’ll see to him.”
McAlistair seemed to consider it.
“Your horses are ready,” Mr. Thomas added. “And if you hold him much longer, you’ll kill him.” He rubbed the side of his jaw and his gaze turned speculative. “Don’t think I could stop the likes of you, if you’ve a mind to murder.” He dropped his hand. “But I’m a law-abiding man. Damn if I won’t turn you in after the fact.”
McAlistair waited a heartbeat more before releasing his captive. The apprentice dropped to his knees in the dirt yard, holding his throat and breathing in ragged gasps.
He was still there gasping, with a very unsympathetic-looking Mr. Thomas standing over him, when Evie and McAlistair mounted their horses and left.
Fourteen
They rode in silence, skirting the same wide stream they’d followed most of the morning. The birds were still singing, the sun still bright, and the gentle beat of horse hooves on the soft ground provided a familiar and somehow reassuring rhythm. But it wasn’t the same.
McAlistair had asked Evie once more if she were unharmed, as he’d helped her to mount her horse. She’d said yes, and neither had spoken another word in the twenty minutes since.
Evie was vaguely aware of him keeping close to her and of the concerned glances he sent her way, but most of her concentration was focused inward.
She was shaking. Letting go of the reins with one hand, she watched as her fingers trembled. Only part of the reaction was caused by a lingering fear and disgust of the attacker, and perhaps some of it was shock at what she had seen in McAlistair’s eyes. But the majority of it stemmed from anger.
She gripped the reins again and gritted her teeth in impotent fury. There was nothing she could have done, or very nearly nothing, to save herself from the apprentice.
True, she’d learned the best ways to fend off an overly ardent suitor—a quick knee to the groin, she had been informed, would usually do the trick. But she hadn’t been in a position to try that tactic at the blacksmith’s. And even if she could have maneuvered to the proper angle, what if she had missed, or he had moved, or it wasn’t as effective as she’d been told?
The sobering truth was, she very likely would not have escaped if McAlistair hadn’t come along. She wasn’t big enough, she wasn’t strong enough, and she quite obviously didn’t know how.
The incident left her feeling small and weak…and increasingly furious.
How dare he?
How dare any man? What did it matter if she were a mistress? She’d made it patently obvious she wanted nothing to do with him or his coin. He had no right to ignore that, to push her resistance aside as if it meant nothing. As if she meant nothing.
But he had.
Because he was a man, she was a woman, and he could.
Because she’d let him.
“To hell with that,” she heard herself mutter. “To bloody hell with that.”
Without signaling to McAlistair, she drew her horse to a stop, and twisted in the saddle to dig through the bags.
So intent was she on her mission that she didn’t notice McAlistair had drawn his horse up alongside until he spoke.
“What are you looking for?”
She pulled out the gun Mrs. Summers had given her. “This.”
“Put it away.”
“Oh, I will. After I shoot him.”
He reached over and grabbed the reins of her horse. “Now.”
“No. Let go. I’m going back.”
He swung off his horse, keeping a hold of her reins. Evie had no opportunity to ask what he was doing before he reached up and lifted her down from the horse.