EscapeWithMe (24 page)

“You’re nothing but a bastard,” William spat.

“You have no soul.” Ryder’s hands fisted.

“I should have strangled you too—”

“Your evil eats you from within,” Ryder shouted.

“A mistake I shall now rectify.” William raised Webb’s
loaded pistol and aimed it at Ryder’s chest.

“Ryder!” Sam screamed.

Phillip grabbed his father’s wrist and wrenched it up.
“Run,” he bellowed. William roared as he wrestled against his stronger son.

Sam couldn’t move. Her legs were like jelly. Ryder ran to
her and grabbed her arm. “This way!” He wheeled her around and dragged her into
the woods.

She nearly tripped on her skirt and had to hold it high to
keep up with Ryder, though his iron grip on her arm ensured she’d come along no
matter what. She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was following but
stumbled over a fallen branch. Ryder hauled her back to her feet.

“Where are we going?” she asked between pants.

Ryder was breathing hard too. And coughing. They couldn’t
stay out in the haze for much longer. “We’ll circle around…back to shore.
Kelter may still…be there.” They hadn’t driven the cart very far into the woods
and soon ran clear of the trees. The tall seaside grass ended at the drop-off
that sloped down to the beach.

The salamander sun loomed on the left.

“Almost there,” Ryder said. However, the drop-off was far
higher and steeper than where they had made landfall. The cliff was sheer and
fifty feet down. “Damn it to hell. Come on.” He pulled her a couple of steps
along the precipice, but a hoarse yell stopped them.

“Stop!” Limping and gasping for air, William appeared from
the trees. His thin hair stuck to his forehead and blood ran down his chin. His
pistol was aimed at Sam. “Stop or…I will…shoot her.”

Ryder put her behind him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Why pursue this, Fa—William? You shot the man who cuckolded
you. You saved your son. The air is killing you.”

William approached and made a token effort to wipe his chin.
“And let you turn King’s evidence?”

“You have little time left as it is. What use is it to
silence me?”

“It’s you who has little time,” William said. “For over
twenty years, I let you live. I believe that’s quite enough.”

A shot was fired. Ryder jumped.

“No!” Sam screamed. She wrapped her arms around him and
prayed William’s aim was poor. When he didn’t sag in her arms, she looked
around his shoulder.

William West lay dead in the grass. Webb and Phillip sat
astride a horse just beyond the tree line, though not Webb’s horse. It must
have been William’s.

Phillip held the discharged gun. He was crying.

Webb was behind Phillip on the horse and pitched to the
side. Only his weak grip on Phillip’s arm kept him atop the horse.

Ryder pulled from Sam’s arms and ran past William’s body. He
drew Webb from the horse and gently lowered him to the ground. Phillip
dismounted as well, still staring mournfully at his father’s body.

Sam only heard snippets of Ryder’s conversation with his
real father. “Not much time…am ashamed…” Webb’s skin was white as a sheet. He
was dying.

She was compelled to look east at the blood-colored sun. She
picked up her locket and flipped it over. The inscription read in large letters
FLY.

All she had to do was leap and she’d be home.

The scorched scent in the air mixed with the smell of his
father’s blood, which dripped through Ryder’s hands. His throat ached, his
lungs burned, and the tears in his eyes blurred the sight of Webb’s colorless
skin.

Webb’s voice was reed thin. “Ryder, I…not much time. Forgive
me please. I shouldn’t…I am ashamed at the man I’ve become.”

Ryder didn’t know what to say. How could his heart change
tack so quickly? How could they make up for the decades lost when so little
time was left? He wanted to make Webb more comfortable, but he didn’t dare
move.

“Why did you reject my mother?”

“Always regretted. Was afraid she’d…resent me. Should’ve
had…more faith. I loved your mother.”

“And if you had known about me?”

Webb struggled for air. “Would’ve come for you.
Would’ve…given you the love…that William didn’t.” His breaths were growing
shallow. Tears spilled down his cheeks. “Oh God, Elaine…our son…”

Ryder’s voice broke. “Father…”

Samantha appeared next to him. Her skirt spilled over Webb’s
legs as she knelt. Her hands slid under her hair to the back of her neck. She
was taking off her locket.

His heart shot up as though attempting escape. “But what
about—”

“I’ve made my choice,” she said. His breath caught. “So I
don’t need this anymore.” Her resolve was clear. The locket came away and she
leaned over Webb. “But maybe it can help him the way it helped me.” She clasped
the chain around his father’s neck.

“What…?” Webb breathed.

Samantha grasped his father’s hand. “You’ll understand
soon.”

Ryder’s heart was torn between grief and hope, between loss
and resounding joy. He held his father tightly and could not give voice to the
tumult of his emotions. Samantha wrapped an arm around his shoulders and
silently held Webb’s hand. It was exactly what he needed.

His father stiffened and called his name. Breathing was
growing more and more difficult for him. It wouldn’t be long. He had to say it
now.

“Father, I—I forgive you.” Samantha’s arm tightened around
him.

Webb eased just a little. Another tear fell. “Thank you,” he
sighed.

A couple of minutes passed, but no more was said. His chest
stopped moving. His body went limp. Ryder’s grief might have overwhelmed him
had Samantha not been there.

Phillip knelt and put his hand on Ryder’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“I as well,” Ryder croaked. “About William.”

Phillip squeezed his arm. “I had to stop him.” His brother
then left him to tend to his own father.

Ryder wasn’t sure how many minutes passed, but he was loath
to move. He stared at the locket sitting on Webb’s still chest and prayed his
father found joy in another time. Samantha’s thumb stroked the back of Webb’s
hand and her expression was as earnest as his own. Did she pray as well?

“Let’s take him back to the wagon,” she softly suggested.

He nodded.

When Sam, Ryder and Phillip returned to the cart with Webb’s
and William’s bodies, they found Kelter glancing around in search of them. Sam
watched with an aching heart as Ryder attempted to explain what happened, and
Kelter was wise enough not to press him for more than the bare minimum of
information.

Kelter volunteered to distribute the contents of the cart
across the rest of the caravan so that Ryder and Phillip could take their
fathers to Poole, and he had good news to report when he returned. The dragoons
had been outnumbered ten to one. The only casualties were a couple of flesh
wounds from gunshots, a broken arm and plenty of bruises. As a consolation
prize and to incite no further pursuit, the farmers left behind a few barrels
of brandy.

It wasn’t long until they reached Christchurch, where they
took shelter from the fallout while the local undertaker tended the bodies. It
was decided on the way that they’d tell any interested authorities as much
truth as possible about their fathers’ deaths, that William and Webb shot each
other in a duel over the secret of Ryder’s birth and the murder of his mother.
It was also decided that William should be buried next to his first wife and
Webb next to Ryder’s mother.

Sam waited alone in their room at a local inn for Ryder to
return from the undertaker. Her throat still burned terribly but she didn’t
want to drink any more beer. She was drunk enough as it was, and though she
wouldn’t change her mind if she had the chance, she was still reeling over her
choice to remain in Ryder’s time. Drinking more wouldn’t likely put her mind in
the right place.

Whenever she pressed her hand to her aching throat, she
missed her locket, not because she wanted it back but because she had worn it
nonstop for so long. Its absence was both relieving and unsettling. As
unpleasant as its guidance usually was, it had been comforting to know that
something had a plan for her. Now that she was in uncharted waters, she
struggled with the notion that this was her new normal, that her old life was
gone forever.

The anxiety-and-excitement cocktail was nauseating, though
maybe that was just the beer’s fault. It wasn’t particularly good.

When sunset drew near, Sam closed the shutters over the
windows to block out the lurid, rusty light and lit a candle. It took a couple
of tries but she was getting better at using a tinderbox. How long until
matches were invented?

Such questions stirred up that nauseating cocktail but she
resisted the temptation to down more beer.

A knock sounded and she stood with relief. She wove her way
to the door and threw the lock.

“You should ask who it is first,” Ryder said teasingly as he
came inside.

“I knew it was you.”

“Oh is that beer?” He was smiling as he went to the table
and her half-full glass, but his shoulders sagged and his eyes were red—whether
from grief or exposure to the fallout was hard to say. He winced after his
first gulp and stared at the beer contemptuously. “This is terrible.”

“What did the undertaker say?”

He set down the beer with a sigh. “I’ll call for dinner and
higher-quality libation. Would you prefer chicken or beef, my love?”

“Ryder,” she said softly.

He worried his lips and stared down at the table with arms
akimbo. “He’ll be ready by morning. I also arranged transportation for
his…coffin.” He rubbed the back of his neck and she saw the glimmer of tears in
his eyes. She went to him and pulled him into a hug.

“How’s Phillip?”

“Worse than me, I expect. He’s staying down the hall and
offered to send a letter ahead of us to my mother’s parents in Poole.” His
voice gained an edge. “He kept apologizing.”

Oh Jesus. She held him tighter. “We’ll help him, Ryder.
We’ll be here for him.”

Phillip was surely partaking of the inn’s beer no matter its
quality, anything to escape the knowledge that he had killed his own father.

Ryder took a deep breath and she felt him relax. “How are
you?” he asked.

She hadn’t expected him to ask after the loss he suffered
and had no idea what to say. How could she put into words how she was feeling?
Would he understand “scared shitless but otherwise fine and dandy”? When she
didn’t answer, he pulled back from their embrace and cupped her cheek.

“Samantha, I…cannot truly understand all that you have given
up. If you’d like me to understand, I’m eager to listen.”

She shrugged. “That’s just it. I don’t think
I
fully
grasp everything I just gave up. I’ve been sitting here all afternoon thinking
about it.”

Ryder held his breath for a few seconds. His next words came
out as a whisper. “Do you regret your decision?”

“I kept wondering how it would’ve felt if I had gone back.
I’d wake up in my apartment. I’d call the police about Brian. I might hear from
some of my old friends from school and maybe I’d have to close the shop. After
that, I’d go back to school and try to piece my life together…but the whole
time, I’d be remembering you and wishing I had been brave enough to do what I
wanted, what I deserved.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until his thumb brushed
away a tear on her cheek.

“Then I started thinking about what’s next.” She laughed. “I
don’t know. It’s scary not knowing, but the more I thought about life with you,
the more excited I felt. It won’t be easy but I had to follow my heart, so no,
I don’t regret it.”

His expression was consuming. “I want to make love to you,”
he said hoarsely. That got her heart rate up. He pulled her closer. “Please.”

She nodded and he lowered his head to kiss her. She expected
an explosion of passion but he was tender. He coaxed her lips apart, teased her
lower lip with his tongue, delved languidly into her mouth. His hand rubbed in
a circle against her lower back while the other cradled her head. Her heart
thudded loudly but steadily. She laid her hand on his chest and felt the rapid
beating of his heart.

He was holding back.

Several minutes passed and she was so aroused that she
squirmed where she stood. She gasped when he pulled apart the first knot of her
bodice’s laces, not because she was surprised but because she was aching to go
further, faster.

Ryder had other plans. He eased the laces open with care, as
though it was their first time together. When the bodice was loose enough, he
swept his hands down the curves of her waist and the dress slipped to the
floor. Then the game started again with the laces of her corset. When she was
left with nothing but her shift and stockings, he lifted her out of the pile of
cloth and carried her to the bed.

She sat on the edge, biting her lip as he undressed for her.
She made a noise when he shed his vest. His hard shoulders rolled as he did it
and she couldn’t wait to dig her nails into that muscled flesh. He then tugged
his shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but his breeches, which left no
doubt that he was as eager as his heartbeat implied. Those blue eyes watched
her closely when he opened the fore-flap and dropped the breeches past his
narrow hips.

His cock was thick and hard. She couldn’t hold back a needy
moan and started squirming again. He stepped close and held out his hand to
help her stand. He pushed her chemise up. She lifted her arms. The garment
landed somewhere behind him and his arms were around her again. He was so warm.
His erection brushed her stomach and her breasts were pulled tight against his
wide chest. His heart was pounding.

She parted her lips for him, falling into that heady swirl
of hormones as they kissed and caressed and moaned. He filled his hands with
the flesh of her backside. When one of his hands slipped down to the back of
her thigh, then between her legs, almost touching her sopping core, she nearly
climaxed right there.