they were looking for: a scrap of pale yellow material clinging to a briar vine.
In the time that followed there were not many clues for them to find: a feminine footprint near a creek bed; a blue thread dangling from a branch; several strands of blond hair tangled in a bush. But with their keen eyes and extensive knowledge, slowly, methodically, and inevitably they followed the scant trail left behind by the women. Darkness was falling that first day when they stumbled across thecamp where the women had made their escape. It was too dark for them to continue their search, and reluctantly they camped for the night at that same spot.
The next morning Chance’s mouth had been grim as he and Hugh began to follow the obvious trail left by the women. The fact that their captors had abandoned the women seemed very ominous, and he feared that the pitiful trail he was following would end in tragedy.
But by the time they made camp that second night, Chance was hopeful again. It was apparent that the women had not been followed very far by their captors, and the painful thought of finding the baroness’s lifeless, mutilated body in some shadowy glade gradually faded from his mind.
As he and Hugh continued to follow the traces left by the women, Chance was conscious of a grudging admiration for the baroness and her sister. They might be delicate, pampered Englishwomen, but they had shown pluck and great daring in managing to escape from their captors.
Despite his growing optimism that they would find the women alive, it wasn’t until he and Hugh actually stood there looking down at the two exhausted ladies as they slept on the ground that the anguished knot deep in his belly finally loosened. They had found them, and they were alive.
And not, he thought with grim humor, exactly pleased to see them, either. The quickly masked expression on the baroness’s face certainly suggested that she would have preferred to be rescued by just about anyone other than Chance Walker. His lips quirked. His baroness certainly wasn’t a hypocrite; she didn’t like him, and even the present circumstances weren’t going to change anything.
Grudging admiration flickering in his eyes, he drawled, “My apologies that your charming host was not the one to have found you, Your Ladyship. But then if Jonathan had been looking for you, well, I fear you would never have been found.”
“It does not matter who found us,” Fancy said crisply, as she rose to her feet and shook out her tattered gown. “All that matters is that we
have
been found, and for that I thankyou with all my heart.” Despite her sincere and deep gratitude, some imp of mischief made her add, “You
were
looking for us? You have not simply stumbled across us as did those wretched Thacker creatures?”
The good cheer vanished from Chance’s gaze, and Hugh audibly sucked in his breath. “Udell Thacker?
He
was your abductor?” Chance demanded roughly.
Unconcernedly helping Ellen to her feet, Fancy replied, “Mmm, yes, that was his name, Udell Thacker. I believe that the other cretin with him is called Clem.” Smiling sweetly at Chance over her shoulder, she asked, “Are they friends of yours?”
Hugh choked and hastily looked away.
“Not exactly,” Chance growled, not best pleased by her manner. Under the circumstances, a little more gratitude would have been expected and, he admitted ruefully, appreciated, but he should have known that his baroness would do precisely the opposite—bait him instead of placating him. And damned if he’d let her get the better of him.
Blue eyes suspiciously guileless, he inquired innocently, “Did you enjoy your stay with them? Other, er, ladies, have not found them, ah, polite.”
Fancy glared at him, suddenly tired of the situation. “We did not, as you know very well! From the moment that those wretched beasts made their presence known, it has been most,
most
disagreeable.”
Hugh spoke up. Gravely he said, “You are very lucky
In the time that followed there were not many clues for them to find: a feminine footprint near a creek bed; a blue thread dangling from a branch; several strands of blond hair tangled in a bush. But with their keen eyes and extensive knowledge, slowly, methodically, and inevitably they followed the scant trail left behind by the women. Darkness was falling that first day when they stumbled across thecamp where the women had made their escape. It was too dark for them to continue their search, and reluctantly they camped for the night at that same spot.
The next morning Chance’s mouth had been grim as he and Hugh began to follow the obvious trail left by the women. The fact that their captors had abandoned the women seemed very ominous, and he feared that the pitiful trail he was following would end in tragedy.
But by the time they made camp that second night, Chance was hopeful again. It was apparent that the women had not been followed very far by their captors, and the painful thought of finding the baroness’s lifeless, mutilated body in some shadowy glade gradually faded from his mind.
As he and Hugh continued to follow the traces left by the women, Chance was conscious of a grudging admiration for the baroness and her sister. They might be delicate, pampered Englishwomen, but they had shown pluck and great daring in managing to escape from their captors.
Despite his growing optimism that they would find the women alive, it wasn’t until he and Hugh actually stood there looking down at the two exhausted ladies as they slept on the ground that the anguished knot deep in his belly finally loosened. They had found them, and they were alive.
And not, he thought with grim humor, exactly pleased to see them, either. The quickly masked expression on the baroness’s face certainly suggested that she would have preferred to be rescued by just about anyone other than Chance Walker. His lips quirked. His baroness certainly wasn’t a hypocrite; she didn’t like him, and even the present circumstances weren’t going to change anything.
Grudging admiration flickering in his eyes, he drawled, “My apologies that your charming host was not the one to have found you, Your Ladyship. But then if Jonathan had been looking for you, well, I fear you would never have been found.”
“It does not matter who found us,” Fancy said crisply, as she rose to her feet and shook out her tattered gown. “All that matters is that we
have
been found, and for that I thankyou with all my heart.” Despite her sincere and deep gratitude, some imp of mischief made her add, “You
were
looking for us? You have not simply stumbled across us as did those wretched Thacker creatures?”
The good cheer vanished from Chance’s gaze, and Hugh audibly sucked in his breath. “Udell Thacker?
He
was your abductor?” Chance demanded roughly.
Unconcernedly helping Ellen to her feet, Fancy replied, “Mmm, yes, that was his name, Udell Thacker. I believe that the other cretin with him is called Clem.” Smiling sweetly at Chance over her shoulder, she asked, “Are they friends of yours?”
Hugh choked and hastily looked away.
“Not exactly,” Chance growled, not best pleased by her manner. Under the circumstances, a little more gratitude would have been expected and, he admitted ruefully, appreciated, but he should have known that his baroness would do precisely the opposite—bait him instead of placating him. And damned if he’d let her get the better of him.
Blue eyes suspiciously guileless, he inquired innocently, “Did you enjoy your stay with them? Other, er, ladies, have not found them, ah, polite.”
Fancy glared at him, suddenly tired of the situation. “We did not, as you know very well! From the moment that those wretched beasts made their presence known, it has been most,
most
disagreeable.”
Hugh spoke up. Gravely he said, “You are very lucky
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