The Jacobite's Return (The Georgian Rebel Series) by Jane Godman

Author:Jane Godman [Godman, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: second chances, Georgian, secret baby, amnesia, romance, ptsd, 1745 rising, Jacobites, Culloden, historical
Published: 2016-05-30T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The light drizzle had given way to a steady downpour. Rosie, her only thought to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of the taproom and to walk off her fears, quickly found she was drenched and with nowhere to go for shelter. She couldn’t stay in that room and listen to Jack and Tom make small talk. She knew Jack was only thinking of her welfare. He had no idea that the very thought of food made her feel as though she was going to choke, but as soon as she tried to explain, tears had threatened to overwhelm her. If she spoke then, all the emotion that had been building inside her would have burst forth. And what use would that be to any of us? Leaving the inn had, at least, given her a chance to collect herself. And to get drenched in the process.

Without realising it, her musings had led her away from the safety of the narrow road. Looking back, the hazy lights of the inn were no longer visible. The canopy of trees obscured the occasional pallid moonlight afforded by the scuttling clouds, and suddenly she could not see as much as her hand in front of her face.

An eerie silence enveloped her. The route along the road had been quiet, but this was sinister. She could hear her heart thudding uncomfortably in her ears. Dark shapes created an alien landscape that appeared to close threateningly in on her, and she trod cautiously across the craggy ground, not knowing in which direction she was walking. She had no idea if she was heading back towards the inn or on a different track altogether. An owl hooted close by, and she jumped in alarm. Behind her a loud rustling in the undergrowth indicated there were other living creatures abroad this night. Harry’s fantastic stories of wild dogs and wolves surviving undetected in the English countryside came back to her, and she shivered in alarm. Trying to retrace her steps proved fruitless, and she ended up deeper in the woods, panic setting in and preventing her from thinking rationally.

The threatening noises grew louder. Something was stalking her. Something much larger than a squirrel or badger. Alarm seized her and she tried to run, but the shifting sound was close, and she knew that it—whatever it might be—was just behind her. She was grabbed suddenly by a strong pair of hands clasping her waist, and she tumbled forward. Her assailant fell with her and landed heavily on top of her, so that the breath left her body with a loud oof sound. Desperately, she tried to struggle out from under him and could have sobbed with relief when a familiar voice growled in her ear.

“Will you keep still, you bloody wilful little thorn in my side?”

Yielding to the feelings of mingled joy and relief which swept through her—and ignoring the wet ground and cold which seemed to penetrate her blood—Rosie wriggled around under Jack’s body so she could hug him.

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