A Love Worthy

Chapter Twenty-Seven

            He chuckled, forcing her attention as he leaned back against the leather seat. “Precisely what I had assumed.” His eyes hardened as he said, “No need to worry yer little head, ye are no good to be dead.”

            Her heart shuddered in warning when his gaze fell to her hand pressed protectively against her belly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the evident bump beneath her layers of clothing. She quickly rushed to interrupt the process of his thoughts.

            “How do you know Victoria?” her voice trembled as she asked the question and slowly lowered her hand to her lap.

            His eyes met hers, his lips peeling back from uneven teeth as he said, “Ah, the avaricious red-head? She finds ye a great obstruction. She called upon me. She wanted ye gone, I merely obliged her, twas as simple as that.”

            The banquet. Ginelle thought suddenly. She must have seen us. “And Lord Sharp?”

            Pierino grimaced and waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss the man. “He was derived from the woman he was not apart of my agreement with the red-head.”

            Ginelle’s eyes averted to the window, her heart sinking heavily in her chest for they were no longer in town and now traveled a desolate road.

            “Ye have led many to believe ye are this – Miss Pattinson?”

            Turning away from the window, she peered at him coldly. “To rid myself of you.”

            He smirked, “Ah, but ye failed miserably in doing so.”

            Her jaw hardened as her hands squeezed the material of her cloak. “It would appear so.”

            “Are ye not curious to know where I am taking ye?”

            She tilted her chin, “I cannot make sense of your reasons for wanting me, and I am tired of running.”

            A knowing glint sharpened the edge of his black eyes and she shivered despite her wavering bravery. “Mayhap ye would be more interested in the happenings of yer father’s death?”

            Ginelle jolted as if the carriage had come to an abrupt halt. Her heart leapt against her chest as though it would burst through flesh and bone, unaware that her fingers grasped the leather seat beneath her. “What did you say?” her voice quivered in a whisper.

            “Yer father?” he said tauntingly, “Was yer father not Ross Hayes, the blacksmith?”

            Ginelle pulled away from the leather at her back, the profound beating of her heart pulsating in her ears as she struggled to contemplate his jeering words. “H-how do you know my father?”