He detected the slight movement of ridiculously long, curling lashes, and a moment later those striking turquoise orbs were gazing up at him rather wonderingly, before a suspicious frown drew finely arched, dark brows together.
‘What on earth do you imagine you are doing hovering over me like some ravenous bird of prey, about to swoop, Major Ross?’ she demanded to know.
‘Spot on form again, I see.’ Shaking his head in disbelief, Daniel rose to his feet. ‘How is it possible, I ask myself, for someone to appear so beautifully angelic in sleep and yet possess the tongue of an adder?’
Katherine satisfied herself with flashing him an angry look, which only succeeded in igniting a rumble of masculine laughter. With narrowed eyes, she watched him walk over to the window and remove the piece of sacking. Tongue like an adder, indeed! She inwardly fumed. He had a crass nerve to criticise her when he wasn’t above uttering some barbed remark himself! she decided, scrambling to her feet and giving her cloak a vigorous shake.
‘You haven’t time to concern yourself over your dishevelled state,’ Daniel told her bluntly, turning in time to see her attempting to make use of the few pins that remained in her hair. ‘We cannot risk being found here by the blacksmith when he arrives. Which, if I know anything, will be quite soon. It’s already daybreak.’
Although she prided herself on her appearance, and never set forth unless perfectly groomed, Katherine appreciated that attempting to make herself presentable was hardly important in the circumstances, and merely thrust her reticule into her cloak pocket before swirling the fur-lined garment about her shoulders once more.
‘As you appear to have a way with horses, sweet Kate, perhaps you’d be good enough to collect our trusted steed from the stall so that I can hitch him up to the gig?’ Daniel requested, and received his second dagger-look of the morning.
‘Willingly, Major Ross … and don’t call me Kate!’
Grinning wickedly, he occupied himself, while Katherine went to do his bidding, by plumping up the pile of hay to hide all evidence of two people having used it as a bed. With his back towards it, he didn’t notice the large wooden door open a fraction. Katherine too was oblivious to the fact that an unkempt rascal was stealthily entering, or that three equally villainous rogues were at their compatriot’s heels. The first indication she had that they were no longer alone was when a shot rang out, by which time it was already too late to scream out a warning.
Katherine saw Daniel extract the pistol from his pocket and with unerring accuracy dispose of one of the intruders, before the other three, on him in a trice, knocked him to the ground, raining a barrage of kicks and blows down on him. Hidden by the gelding, Katherine looked wildly about for some weapon, and her frantic gaze swiftly fell upon a solid piece of wood. Without the least concern for her own safety, she joined in the fray, felling one of the attackers with a single blow to the head before anyone knew she was there.
‘You damnable coward!’ she screamed, delivering such a powerful blow to yet another assailant that he dropped the weapon he had been wielding, and made for the door with all possible speed, screaming in agony as he clutched his right arm.
Showing no mercy, Katherine scooped up the unwieldy firearm and gave chase like some avenging virago out for blood; while Daniel, having by this time managed to rise to his feet, easily disposed of the last attacker with a well-aimed blow to the jaw. He then turned in time to see Katherine, using both hands, striving to level the heavy weapon. Before he could yell out a warning, her finger had squeezed the trigger. There was the most almighty report, and a moment later, appearing dazed and not just a little embarrassed, she was sitting plump in the middle of the village street.
Galvanised, Daniel was beside her in an instant, demanding to know whether she was hurt. ‘Only my pride,’ she assured him, glancing at where she had dropped the firearm. ‘What in the name of heaven is that thing?’
‘The Lord only knows! Looks to be something between a blunderbuss and a “Brown Bess” to me. A “Brown Bess” is a musket,’ he explained in response to her questioning look.
He cast her an impatient one in return as he helped her to her feet. ‘Don’t you know any better than to attempt to handle unfamiliar firearms, young woman?’ he demanded sharply, continued anxiety over her well-being making him sound far harsher than he had intended. ‘They can be notoriously unpredictable, not to mention downright dangerous. Though it appears,’ he added, betraying a hint of admiration in his expression now, as he glanced at the spot directly in front of the inn, where the fourth attacker lay motionless on the ground, with something which Daniel couldn’t quite make out lying on the road beside him, ‘that you managed to discharge that monstrosity with remarkable accuracy. No mean feat, my darling, believe me!’
He quite failed to notice the swift and faintly sheepish look cast up at him through long lashes, for his attention was captured by a few villagers who had begun to emerge from their houses in order to investigate the commotion. To remain a moment longer would, he knew, be to court more trouble. There was every chance that others in search of them were in the area. Furthermore, he didn’t relish the prospect of trying to explain to the French authorities just why they were being pursued across the country by a gang of hired assassins. Consequently he took a firm hold of a slender wrist and, before she knew what was happening, hauled Katherine willy-nilly out of the village towards a large stretch of rising pasture land, dotted with sheep happily grazing.
Katherine perfectly understood the reasons for their hasty departure. She could appreciate too why they could not have delayed in order to harness the horse to the gig. All the same, she felt that she might have been allowed the few seconds it would have taken to collect her bonnet from the blacksmith’s barn.
The wind whistling across the open ground caught at her hair, lashing strands across her face. The cowl on her cloak was of precious little use, for unless she kept a firm hold on it the wind whipped it back in a trice. She refrained from complaining, however, for she needed all her breath in order to keep abreast of her companion.
Daniel set a cracking pace, and Katherine found herself almost having to run in order to keep up with that elegant, long-striding gait. Not until they had left the village far behind, and he seemed satisfied that no one was giving chase, did he attempt to walk at a more moderate speed; even so he did not suggest that they rest until quite some time later, when the open landscape had given way to a vast woodland area.
Settling himself on the grass, Daniel leaned his back against the substantial trunk of a conveniently fallen tree. Although he wasn’t breathing particularly heavily, after their swiftly executed cross-country flight, Katherine wasn’t slow to note that he was looking a little flushed. Initially she didn’t give much thought to the unusual ruddy complexion, until she noticed him favouring his left arm, grasping it at frequent intervals beneath the folds of his cloak. Then, as he withdrew his right hand again, she clearly saw the telltale red stains between the long fingers.
‘Daniel, you’re hurt!’
Forgetting her own insignificant discomforts, she dropped to her knees beside him, and threw back his cloak before he had a chance to stop her. The instant her eyes focused on the charred portion of jacket just below the shoulder, and the dark stain surrounding the hole, she remembered the first shot fired in the barn. She had thought the attacker had missed his target entirely. Clearly he had not.
‘Why on earth didn’t you say something, you foolish creature!’ she scolded.
Daniel assured her that it was nothing, barely a scratch, but made no demur when she insisted that he remove his cloak and jacket, and then his shirt, because the wound was too high up on the arm to reach by merely rolling up the sleeve.
Obligingly, he pulled the linen garment over his head, sending his dark brown hair into disarray. It was by no means the first time Katherine had seen a person of the opposite sex in a state of undress. Many a time when she had lived in Ireland she had seen men remove their shirts on warm