"You're Gaspard."

The Frenchman advanced another step. "The duke is a fool. He should have known better than to hire a Runner to find me. I ask you again, monsieur. What information do you have? You will tell me, or you will die." He smiled and James saw madness in his eyes.

And James knew that even if he talked his time on earth had come to an end.

Chapter 8

Thunder cracked as loudly and suddenly as a gunshot.

Breathless and close to panic, Elizabeth arrived at the stables just past midnight. Mortlin had obviously retired as he was nowhere to be found. Without hesitation, she lifted the first saddle she saw, grunting under its weight, and quickly outfitted Rosamunde. It wasn't until she'd led the mare outside that she realized she'd used a gentleman's saddle. Without a thought to the impropriety of her actions, she employed a move she hadn't used since arriving in England. Hitching her skirts up to her thighs, she mounted the horse, sitting astride. Her muscles creaked in protest, but she ignored the discomfort.

Turning Rosamunde, she studied the series of paths leading into the forest. Which one would lead her to Austin? Closing her eyes, she emptied her mind forcing herself to concentrate. Left. Take the left path.

Without hesitation, she headed down the left path, her eyes searching the darkness, her pulse pounding. Rosamunde followed the dirt trail, and Elizabeth kept concentrating, forcing the image of Austin into her mind's eye. They were getting closer… she knew it. But would she be too late?

Another roar of thunder split the silence. A lightning bolt streaked across the black sky, briefly illuminating the gloomy surroundings.