Free To Love a Thief (Steel Hawk) by Jane Beckenham Page B

about?”
    He shook his head. “It’s best not to upset them. To do so is to play with death.”
    “Get them!” a soldier roared.
    “Nathan! The guards!” Fifty yards and closing in.
    Nathan untied the horse’s reins and slapped the animal on the rump. It bolted off, charging directly into the oncoming guards, and then, in the next moment, Nathan grabbed her hand. “Run, Rosie, and don’t stop.”
    Her feet slid over the damp ground, sliding out beneath her, and it was all she could do to cling to Nathan and stay upright. Her breathing labored as they raced along the jetty.
    The second boat master had already seen the guards exit the forest and immediately set off from the jetty.
    “Wait for us! Please, please wait.” Tears streamed down Rose’s cheeks, blinding her.
    “Forget him, he’s gone.” Nathan charged to the end of the jetty. This was their last hope. He climbed on board the smallest of vessels.
    The boat master shot to his feet. “’Ere, what you doing?”
    “Borrowing your boat, good sir.”
    “But I ain’t going anywhere.”
    “You are now.”
    Nathan reached for Rose and hauled her from the jetty and onto the small craft.
    The first horse and rider drew up to the jetty. The guard dismounted, bending to aim his rifle in their direction. A shot rang out.
    “Nathan!”
    “Get down and stay down.”
    He shoved at her back, and she hit the deck, crawling on all fours toward the bow. “Put your sail up, Captain.” He tossed a bag of gold to the boat owner.
    The man’s eyes bulged, and then a second shot rang out and pierced a hole in the partially hoisted sail.
    The man jumped to attention, scuttling to the stern. “Set the sail, you bloody fool, and we’ll get going, though ’tis me the fool I think this day.”
    The wind hitched at the sail even as it lifted skyward, and the small boat flew across the river.
    Guards raced along the jetty as the boat caught the wind, the boat master an obvious expert as he steered the craft in a zigzag, moving into the deepest part of the river where the current flowed fastest.
    As they neared the bend, Rose dared to straighten. She peered back at the jetty. The guards had dispersed. After what seemed the longest of times, she finally breathed. “Nathan, we’ve done it. They’ve given up.” She jumped up, closed the distance between them and hugged him. “We’ve gotten away. We did it.”
    “And he’ll be dead by dawn if you don’t tend that wound. Me mother always said a head wound bleeds a plenty.” The man nodded to Nathan, and Rose stilled, arched back and stared at Nathan.
    Except for the trail of blood still oozing from his wound, his face was bleached white, eyes dull. He began to buckle, and she quickly threw an arm about his waist. “Here. Hold on to me. Sit down.”
    “Bossing again.”
    “Of course. That’s what I’m good at.”
    “Couldn’t agree more.”
    Ignoring his attempt at humor, Rose reached for the hem of her father’s shirt that she wore and tore a strip off it. She dabbed it onto Nathan’s wound, receiving a wince in return.
    “I’m fine,” he grumbled.
    The captain squinted and fixed a firm gaze on Nathan. “Don’t look it, lad. You look done in.”
    Nathan tried to wave her hand away. “It’s nothing.”
    “So don’t be a big baby.” Rose dabbed the wound again, trying to stem the bleeding. It took a while, but with each passing second, the blood flow seemed to lessen. She drew away with the blood-soaked wad of cotton in her hand. “That’s it. I’m…”
    Nathan’s eyes rolled back, then closed.
    “Nathan!” Bending over him, she wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow. He’d slipped sideways as if asleep, but he muttered, “Don’t like blood.”
    “What?”
    “Makes me…”
    “Oh, my goodness, you fainted at the sight of your own blood.”
    “Didn’t.” Nathan struggled upward. “Just lost too much.”
    “Fiddlesticks.” But he did look exceedingly pale. “Here, sit up.” She