Tess and the Highlander (28 page)

The coach started with a jolt. The shouts of
the driver rang out through the street. Her head lifted off the
seat, and through a blanket of tangled hair she stared around the
darkened carriage.

“Where is she?” She appeared to be conscious
for the first time.

“Who?” he asked, leaning forward. “Who is it
you're looking for?”

“The girl. Please . . . what happened? Where
is . . . ?” She pushed herself up straight. She was shivering
violently.

In spite of the foreign words she’d
muttered, there was no trace of an accent now. In fact, the
refinement of her speech startled him. He removed his cloak and
draped it around her shoulders. From the little he could see of her
face, it was obvious she was young. Her fingers pulled the edges of
the cloak around her. She was burrowing into the newfound
warmth.

As the carriage swung up onto the Strand,
the dim light coming in the windows afforded Edward a better view
of the wounds on her head. He could see she was still bleeding.

“I need to –” she whispered, looking up.” I
cannot lose her.”

“Who?”

“The girl.” She looked around as if trying
to find her phantom friend. “The girl I was following.”

“You were the only one on the street.” “She
saved me from the river. Dragged me out. She didn’t have to, but
she . . . she was there.” She wasn’t listening to him. Her words
were slurring, and her head began to sink back onto the seat. She
caught herself and looked up at him. “She knew my name. She asked
me to follow. I need to get out.”

“What is your name?”

Her fingers clutched the cloak around her,
and her head sank back.

“Your name?” he asked.

“She called me Sophy.” The blood was oozing
from the cuts on her head. He reached over and pressed a
handkerchief against the wounds that he could see.

“
Bachao
.”

After more than a dozen years of sailing the
seas with the British Navy, he had encountered many tongues. This
one was vaguely familiar. Perhaps Java. Or one of the dialects of
India. But he wasn't sure. “Where does your friend live? Perhaps I
can take you to her.”

Her head was nodding. She was losing the
battle to stay awake. Whatever strength she had in her was quickly
ebbing. She did not respond.

He studied the battered woman. Faceless,
wretched creatures that had only been a nuisance to toss a coin to
before were now real human beings to him since his niece had gone
missing. Imagining the poverty, the violence, the troubled lives,
and bad decisions they’d made—all the circumstances that had pushed
them into this miserable situation in life—only fueled his fears of
what had happened to Amelia. He felt sick whenever he thought of
what her disappearance might have led her to.

And that thought was with him all the time.
It was why he could not give up the search.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of
Urania Cottage. The woman seemed to have fallen sleep. The house
was dark. Edward stepped out as the driver climbed down and tied
the horses to a post.

“Knock at the door and rouse the matron,” he
directed. “Have the woman decide which room I can carry this one
to. Also, have them send for a doctor.”

Edward started to climb back into the
carriage and stopped short. The barrel of his own pistol was
pointed directly at his chest.

“I want you to take me back to where you
found me,” Sophy said. “Now.”