Free Love's Misadventure (The Mason Siblings Series Book 1) by Cheri Champagne

had read of characters running in such a manner in several novels, but reading it vastly differed from experiencing it.
    They reached a copse of trees but didn’t slow their speed. Branches tugged at her fallen hair, ripped at her sleeves, and pulled the long skirt of her riding habit, but Anna paid them little heed. She focused fully on getting as far from the four burly men at the inn as they possibly could.
    Their breath huffed around them, her blood pounded in her ears, and their feet crunched twigs and brush as they rushed between the trees. She heard nothing but their immediate surroundings; no shouts of anger behind them, no shots from pistols, no pounding hoof beats. It was just Anna and Lane, hand-in-hand, dashing through the forest.
    Their escape was both exhausting and exhilarating. Anna laboured for breath, her muscles aching, her throat going raw, and her lungs tiring. She hadn’t any notion of how much time had lapsed, or how many miles they had covered, but Anna was certain about one thing; she was about to collapse. Her feet throbbed, and she felt the desire to itch at the sweat running between and under her breasts.
    She slowed to a stop, pulling Lane with her.
    “I…cannot run…any…further,” she huffed, bending over to place her hands on her knees. “I…need…to rest…”
    A horse whinnied nearby, and they both froze. Anna struggled to keep her breathing silent as her chest heaved. Lane crept toward the noise, slowly and steadily, until the brush swallowed him whole.
    Anna wrung her hands as she fretted over his safety.
    Scant moments later the leaves rustled and she jumped back, her arms raised in preparation of self-defence. What she would do against a man with a pistol, she knew not.
    Relief flooded her as Lane appeared.
    “We have reached another inn!” he announced triumphantly, a grin on his sweat-streaked face. “We haven’t much time. Our captors will be searching for us. I will procure a room under false names and request a meal. Is that acceptable to you?”
    She laughed airily. “Truthfully, I am so overjoyed at the prospect of a meal that I haven’t a care for how we get it.”
    Lane’s grin spread to a smile, but Anna saw the fear behind his eyes. He was worried.
    Having stopped running, Anna began to feel the enervation of her limbs, but she held firm. They must, still, continue their escape; they were not entirely free of their abductors, yet.
    Lane gripped her hand in his, wrapping it around his elbow, as he led her through the shrubbery. They stepped into the clearing around the inn. It was bustling with activity; stable boys leading horses through the yard, carriages awaiting their passengers, chickens clucking, dogs barking or sleeping in some discovered shaded spots.
    They strode across the cobblestoned walk toward the door to the “Lazy Inn.” They must look affright. Their clothes were torn and muddy, and Lane’s were stained with his blood. Her hair was down about her shoulders, and Lane had not shaved in days.
    Anna raised her chin as they entered the establishment, hoping that a show of pride would prevent anyone from commenting. Lane immediately sought the innkeeper to request a room for “Mr. and Mrs. Roberts.” They spoke for several minutes while Anna stood, looking about in the taproom.
    The room held warmth and appeared to be moderately clean—a vast improvement from the inns of the past several days.
    Lane gestured toward Anna as he conversed quietly with a young woman. She nodded vigorously before hurrying away.
    Anna’s brows drew together as a new thought came to her.
    Lane returned to her side with a self-satisfied expression. “Come, our room is prepared.”
    She stood still then spoke in an undertone, “Please excuse me for being gauche, but how is it that we are able to pay for this room and our meal?”
    Lane matched her frown with one of his own. “I must admit to my own bewilderment on the matter,” he said quietly. “Our captors failed