An Agent for Phoebe (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 46) by Nerys Leigh

Author:Nerys Leigh [Leigh, Nerys]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2019-10-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Phoebe? Phoebe! Phoebe, wake up!”

She could hear her name being called, but she couldn’t answer. Why was it so difficult to wake up?

“Phoebe!”

She grimaced. “Not so loud.” Her head was throbbing, even worse than before.

“Oh, thank the Lord.”

She opened her eyes to see Jonah sag back onto his heels beside her. His hands were still tied behind his back. It was only then that she noticed hers were too. At least the bandannas were gone. And the ground wasn’t moving so they were no longer in the wagon. She appeared to be lying on grass.

“Am I dead?”

Jonah gave her a small smile. “I hope not, because if you are, so am I.”

She sat up, wincing when her head objected. “I have the worst headache. And I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“Me too. Must be the chloroform they used on us.”

She looked around them properly for the first time. They were in the middle of a clearing surrounded by pine trees. There was no sign of the wagon, or Fletcher and Jones.

“Where are they?”

“No idea. They were gone when I came to.”

“They just left us?”

“Looks like it.”

An intense feeling of relief settled over her. Against all the odds, she and Jonah were alive. “I thought they were going to kill us.”

“Yeah.” He shuffled around on his knees to face away from her and sat back. “Help me get these ropes off.”

With some difficulty, she got onto her knees and moved so her back was to his. Their hands touched. For a few moments he didn’t move, and then he wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed. Were his hands shaking? But then he started work on the knot binding her wrists and the moment was gone, and she’d probably imagined it anyway.

“Brewer told them to kill us,” she said as he worked. “Why didn’t they?”

“Maybe they changed their mind. Or maybe they didn’t have the stomach for killing a woman. Right now I’m just going to be grateful and not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

It took him a while to loosen the knot, but eventually he pulled it free. Rubbing at her sore wrists, she turned round and set about untying his rope. She flinched at the sight of the red marks she revealed when she pulled it away. She had marks on her own wrists, but his were much worse. He’d been struggling harder than she had, and it had torn his skin.

He eased his hands forward and massaged his blood into action, wincing when he jostled the wounds.

“Are they bleeding?”

He turned his hands over to check all the way around. “Not right now.”

She took hold of his right hand and pulled it to her, inspecting the raw crimson line on the back of his wrist. “You should cover this so it doesn’t open up again.”

She felt in her pocket for the handkerchief she always carried. Thankfully, it was still there.

“Is that clean?” He eyed the handkerchief as she folded it into a narrow strip.

“Of course it’s clean.

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