caught her before she hit the ground. “Be thou well, my love?” he asked quietly, holding her firmly as he righted her on her feet. He reverted to a level of compassion he had not shown her since before the dunke. “What vileness hath this scum committed upon thee? Anne?”
She shook her head. She didn’t have enough air for even a simple “nothing.” She willed what little of Johnny that still existed in this gruff Lord High Sheriff to read her mind. To remember his love for her and his friendship with Vaughn. She begged him to remember his asthma.
She begged Johnny, in whatever form he existed in now, to realize that Vaughn was only helping her.
“It doth seem this low man hath corrupted thy betrothed, my Lord High Sheriff,” the Queen said. “Arrest thee the scum, and see thy betrothed to recovery. We shalt discuss us the removal of the beggars from thy Shire upon the end of the festival.” The Queen turned and marched away, the rest of the parade streaming behind her.
Sammie and Vaughn were left alone with Johnny and three greasy, brutish men. They must have been the Lord High Sheriff’s constables.
Johnny nodded at the men. They converged on Vaughn.
This was so very wrong. Sammie blocked the path up the stairs, pulling Johnny with her. “No. I beg it of thee,” she whispered, mustering all the air she could. “He but seekest to help me.”
“He hath caused thy sickness, my love,” Johnny said, tightening his grip on her arm. She winced against his touch, but he didn’t ease up. “He hath stolen away thy air. His intentions with thee are naught but evil.”
There was no Johnny left in this person. Her fiancé no longer existed. He would never hold her so tight. He would never be so cold to her. Never.
The constables moved around her. Vaughn didn’t move, but he eyed possible escape routes.
“Thou cannot!” Sammie gasped loudly.
“My love, thou hath seen thee enough trouble this day. Pray do not create thee more.” Threat replaced what little compassion the Lord High Sheriff had left.
<>
Sammie was going to get herself killed.
Johnny slash Jameson either completely forgot his love for his Anne, or he didn’t care. He was losing control over not only his subject, but his betrothed. And that made him dangerous.
Vaughn jumped off the stage. He ducked a constable and grabbed Sammie’s arm, breaking her free of the evil Sheriff’s evil grip. “You have to stop this, Sammie,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You have to run,” she whispered. “He’ll kill you. You have to run.”
Vaughn looked up. The constables surrounded them. She was right. He looked at her again. “The pond,” he mouthed.
She nodded.
He forced himself to let her go. He backed away. He didn’t want her to get caught in the aftermath of his dash.
Jameson grabbed Vaughn’s hand with a demonic grip. “By what meaning dost thou possess this?” he shrieked.
Vaughn followed the Lord High Sheriff’s insane gaze. His green eyes landed on the slip of silver and green sitting on Vaughn’s pinky.
Sammie’s ring.
“I do pray me this ring did not come onto thy hand the way I am thinking, Sirrah.” The Lord High Sheriff bent Vaughn’s wrist back to the point of near breaking. “I pray thou did take it most harshly from the hand of my delicate betrothed, so that I might take thy thieving hand. And then I can take me thy head.” He turned to a constable with dirty blond hair. “Seize the scum.”
The greasy git smiled, revealing two rows of crooked corn teeth. “Thou shalt not escape me again, wretch.”
Vaughn looked at Sammie. “Run,” she mouthed.
The constable lunged. Vaughn ducked around the man and darted up Hill Street.
<>
They ran after him.
But they wouldn’t catch him. Vaughn was too quick. He’d be out of sight before the oafs lumbered their way to the top of
She shook her head. She didn’t have enough air for even a simple “nothing.” She willed what little of Johnny that still existed in this gruff Lord High Sheriff to read her mind. To remember his love for her and his friendship with Vaughn. She begged him to remember his asthma.
She begged Johnny, in whatever form he existed in now, to realize that Vaughn was only helping her.
“It doth seem this low man hath corrupted thy betrothed, my Lord High Sheriff,” the Queen said. “Arrest thee the scum, and see thy betrothed to recovery. We shalt discuss us the removal of the beggars from thy Shire upon the end of the festival.” The Queen turned and marched away, the rest of the parade streaming behind her.
Sammie and Vaughn were left alone with Johnny and three greasy, brutish men. They must have been the Lord High Sheriff’s constables.
Johnny nodded at the men. They converged on Vaughn.
This was so very wrong. Sammie blocked the path up the stairs, pulling Johnny with her. “No. I beg it of thee,” she whispered, mustering all the air she could. “He but seekest to help me.”
“He hath caused thy sickness, my love,” Johnny said, tightening his grip on her arm. She winced against his touch, but he didn’t ease up. “He hath stolen away thy air. His intentions with thee are naught but evil.”
There was no Johnny left in this person. Her fiancé no longer existed. He would never hold her so tight. He would never be so cold to her. Never.
The constables moved around her. Vaughn didn’t move, but he eyed possible escape routes.
“Thou cannot!” Sammie gasped loudly.
“My love, thou hath seen thee enough trouble this day. Pray do not create thee more.” Threat replaced what little compassion the Lord High Sheriff had left.
<>
Sammie was going to get herself killed.
Johnny slash Jameson either completely forgot his love for his Anne, or he didn’t care. He was losing control over not only his subject, but his betrothed. And that made him dangerous.
Vaughn jumped off the stage. He ducked a constable and grabbed Sammie’s arm, breaking her free of the evil Sheriff’s evil grip. “You have to stop this, Sammie,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You have to run,” she whispered. “He’ll kill you. You have to run.”
Vaughn looked up. The constables surrounded them. She was right. He looked at her again. “The pond,” he mouthed.
She nodded.
He forced himself to let her go. He backed away. He didn’t want her to get caught in the aftermath of his dash.
Jameson grabbed Vaughn’s hand with a demonic grip. “By what meaning dost thou possess this?” he shrieked.
Vaughn followed the Lord High Sheriff’s insane gaze. His green eyes landed on the slip of silver and green sitting on Vaughn’s pinky.
Sammie’s ring.
“I do pray me this ring did not come onto thy hand the way I am thinking, Sirrah.” The Lord High Sheriff bent Vaughn’s wrist back to the point of near breaking. “I pray thou did take it most harshly from the hand of my delicate betrothed, so that I might take thy thieving hand. And then I can take me thy head.” He turned to a constable with dirty blond hair. “Seize the scum.”
The greasy git smiled, revealing two rows of crooked corn teeth. “Thou shalt not escape me again, wretch.”
Vaughn looked at Sammie. “Run,” she mouthed.
The constable lunged. Vaughn ducked around the man and darted up Hill Street.
<>
They ran after him.
But they wouldn’t catch him. Vaughn was too quick. He’d be out of sight before the oafs lumbered their way to the top of
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