Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,97
around the object, she knew what it was.
She gasped, pulling it out and holding it up. A flash of lightning brightened the sky, striking brilliant sparks from the red facets that sparkled and winked at her.
It was Nick’s ruby!
She stared at the jewel in open-mouthed astonishment. He must have snuck it into her pocket when he held her in his arms. And she had been so swept up in his kiss, she hadn’t even noticed.
But why? Why would he give it to her?
Suddenly she remembered what he had said after he kissed her. Go and find your dreams in Venice.
A wrenching wave of emotions overwhelmed her, a rush of disbelief and surprise and love. The jewel would buy her passage to Italy. Together with the money she had stashed in Merseyside, there would be enough for a villa as well. She could begin her new life in security and comfort.
She barely noticed as the storm gathered strength around her, the gentle rain becoming a drenching cascade. Tears joined the raindrops that clung to her lashes. She closed her fingers around Nick’s gift. This gem had meant so much to him. He had been counting on it to buy him a better life in the Colonies. And after paying the blacksmith, he couldn’t have even a hundred pounds in coins left.
He had sacrificed his own comfort, perhaps more. For her.
Pressing the jewel to her chest, she looked over the fields, west, toward York.
Nick James did care about her. He might not be able to say the words, but he cared.
And he had stolen her heart as easily as he had stolen this gem.
But none of that changed the fact that he did not want her in his life.
Sam wiped at her eyes. He was still very much a mystery to her—and always would be. He was gone, out of her life, part of her past.
And she needed to keep moving. Gather up the fractured pieces of her heart and just keep moving. She had to seek shelter. Turning her horse back onto the road, she slipped the ruby back into her skirt pocket... but could not make herself let it go.
In another two days, she would reach her flat in Merseyside. And then, thanks to Nick’s gift, she would be on her way to Venice.
Chapter 21
The Black Angel.
Clearly, this was not one of York’s finer establishments.
Sitting astride a spirited gray hunter a few yards down the street, Nicholas studied the pub that had been his destination for weeks, a fiery satisfaction pumping through his veins that he could only call triumph.
He flicked a glance into the clear night sky, sending a defiant glare heavenward.
He had made it. Despite all the insurmountable obstacles thrown into his path. Despite the physical suffering he had endured—and the other, more painful retribution God had meted out. He had made it, with three days to spare.
Keeping the horse under control with one firm hand on the reins, he reached up to raise the collar on his greatcoat and pull his tricorne low over his eyes. It wouldn’t pay to let impatience get the better of him now. The streets were almost deserted at this late hour, most of the night’s revelers having already stumbled home, but it was still wise to be cautious. He nudged his mount forward.
The pub huddled in the middle of a row of cheap gin shops and bawdy houses. A pair of grimy oil lamps on either side of the door spilled light onto the street and illuminated the wooden sign that hung from an iron stanchion.
The Black Angel. The tavern’s name was spelled out in bold lettering, above a picture of a winged creature with a fierce expression—and a pitchfork in one hand.
Nicholas grimaced, certain now that the blackmailer was someone who knew him. Someone who had seen the brand. This place had not been chosen by chance.
Anger and resentment made his heart pound hard against his ribs. He didn’t like the feeling that his unknown, unseen adversary held all the cards. Didn’t like being forced into this game. Whoever the blackmailer was, he was about to discover that gambling carried risk.
That he’d made a grave, greedy mistake the day he’d sent that note to South Carolina.
Dismounting, Nicholas tried to appear calm and casual as he led his horse toward a hitching post. Tried to blend in to his surroundings. Fortunately, at the moment he looked more like a member of the house of commons than a ruthless pirate.