Free Perilous Pleasures by Jenny Brown Page B

mean nothing if the dog found her scent. She shivered, and not just because of the cold. The dog was getting closer. She could hear its snuffling and the scratching of its claws on the hard earth. If she were to run now, it would treat her as prey. Then, though no command had been given, it stopped, and she heard new footsteps approaching her, human footsteps. She stood up, holding the flimsy valise as if it could ward off whoever it was who’d tracked her down, knowing it was useless.
    Her pursuer lumbered toward her, a short heavy man. His features were hidden by the night, but she could hear him panting with effort. She launched herself into a run but heard him gaining on her. Then, suddenly, there were more footsteps and the sound of a struggle. She heard her pursuer grunt as he hit the ground, and a wave of relief swept over her—until a voice called out, “Zoe.”
    Ramsay. She mustn’t let him catch her.
    She flung her valise at him, hoping to knock him down, but it fell short. With every bit of energy she had left, she scrambled away as fast as she could along the hedgerow. She heard his steps pounding behind her, louder than the sound of her own ragged breath as she raced along in the dark. Though she knew she couldn’t outrun him, she couldn’t stop. Her life had come down to this—that she dared not let him catch her. But he was gaining on her.
    Another hedgerow loomed before her. The only way through it was a stile with a three-barred gate that glimmered in the moonlight. If she could climb over it, perhaps she might still elude him and the punishment that was sure to follow if he caught her. She threw herself at the gate with the last bit of breath she had left and set one foot onto the board that made up the lower crossbar. She was just lifting her other leg over the higher bar when the board she was standing on gave way.
    Her ankle twisted and a searing pain slashed through her as her full weight fell on the gate’s upper bar, cracking it and sending a long splinter of rotten wood ripping through her thigh. She fell headlong onto the ground and lay there quivering, overcome by pain, as the smell of the damp ground filled her nostrils.
    Ramsay staggered toward her. He stopped, only a few feet from where she lay, looking around him like a hunting dog that had lost the scent. He sank to his haunches. Only then did he notice her lying on the cold earth where she’d fallen. As he leaned over her, the planes of his face were illuminated by the flickering moon. He was so beautiful even now. Damnably beautiful.
    â€œAre you injured?” His voice held a note of fear.
    When she made no reply, he reached for her wrist, taking it in his much larger hand with a grip that was surprisingly gentle. A thrill ran through her. Followed by confusion. How could she find such comfort in the touch of her worst enemy? And why was he, who hated her, holding her hand so tenderly? Then she remembered. He was a trained physician. He wasn’t offering her comfort. He was looking for her pulse.
    After finding it, his hands moved swiftly to her head where he checked the angle of her neck. Next he ran his hand along her spine. Only when his examination was complete did he gather her into his arms, pausing only to order someone following behind them to fetch her valise.
    As he bore her away, she clung to him, though she hated herself for needing to. With her nose pressed against the rough wool of his shirt, she inhaled his pungent scent. She wanted to beg him to leave her here, even now, though there was no chance he would. But she couldn’t make the words come out. She could barely cling to consciousness. Each jolting step he took drove more pain through her thigh.
    Her last thought, as her awareness succumbed to the mist that overwhelmed her, was how strong he must be to carry her over so much ground. He looked so unworldly at times. She hadn’t expected him to have such strength.
    A nd