Laura Martin - Heiress On The Run

As they reached the clock tower that stood proudly in the middle of the village square Amelia caught a glimpse of a smartly dressed man coming out of a small shop. He looked out of place in this small village, his clothes were too well tailored, his hair too well groomed. It was obvious from a single glance he was an outsider.

With a pounding heart Amelia grasped Edward’s arm and pulled him behind the clock tower, squeezing her eyes shut as she did so, wishing she could just will the well-groomed man away.

‘Amelia?’ Edward asked, his voice a mixture of concern and irritation. He probably thought she was just trying to waste more time.

‘Shh,’ she hissed.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Everyone’s looking at us.’

Edward chuckled, the first real laugh Amelia had heard him utter.

‘Do you think it might be because you’re acting so strangely?’

Amelia opened her eyes and looked up into Edward’s face, frowning.

‘They’re looking at me,’ she insisted.

He shook his head, a self-deprecating little smile playing on his lips.

‘I think they’re probably looking at me. I am rather notorious. The recluse of Beechwood Manor.’

Amelia paused and glanced out from behind the clock tower. No one was coming for her—in fact, everyone had just returned their attention to whatever it was they’d been doing. Maybe Edward was right, maybe it was him they had all been staring at.

‘What are you afraid of, Amelia?’ Edward asked.

He reached out and touched her gently on the arm and Amelia found herself looking up into his concerned face. Edward had been generous to her, she couldn’t deny it. He’d allowed her to stay and ensured she was warm and dry for the night, but until now she hadn’t really caught more than the occasional glimpse of his kind side. His outward demeanour had always been stern and distant, but right now there was warmth in his eyes, genuine concern and compassion. She sensed this was the man he really was, his true nature, and the gruffness was a wall he erected to keep everyone at bay.

For a moment the rest of the world disappeared, the noise of the villagers going about their daily lives faded into the background and it was just the two of them, hidden in their own little world behind the clock tower. Amelia wondered what it would be like to raise herself up on her toes and kiss Edward, to allow him to fold her in his strong arms and protect her from the world. She felt her body sway slightly, her lips part with anticipation, but just as she began to lean in McNair’s face flashed before her eyes.

The last time she’d kissed a man it had ended in tragedy. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again. She couldn’t be trusted, her instincts had been proven to be wrong before and just the fact that she felt attracted to Edward should be enough to tell her to stay well away.

* * *

Edward saw the moment Amelia’s eyes glazed over and her lips parted. He had been without female company for a long time, but in his youth he’d experienced enough to know when a woman wanted to kiss him. She’d even began to lean in, swaying towards him, but then something had happened. Amelia had stiffened, a look of horror had passed over her face and now she’d backed away to a more respectable distance.

He found himself a little disappointed. He shouldn’t want to kiss this enigmatic little minx, but the idea of tasting her lips, just once, was rather enticing. Before he could stop the thought it had taken hold and all the guilt and feelings of betrayal it conjured up were right there with it. Quickly he balled both his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms to try to distract himself. He knew his wife was dead and gone, nothing would ever bring her back, but he owed it to her to honour her memory.

‘Shall we find the stagecoach?’ Amelia said formally once she’d recovered some of her composure.

Edward stepped out from behind the clock tower and waited for Amelia to follow. Before she ventured out into the open square, she checked each direction, her head swivelling this way and that like a skittish horse.

‘There’s no one poised and waiting to attack you,’ Edward said impatiently as she eventually stepped out into the square.

She gave him a withering look, still checking each direction every few seconds. He wondered what she was afraid of. There was an air of innocence about Amelia, the demeanour of someone who hadn’t experienced much of the world on their own, so he couldn’t imagine she’d got mixed up in anything too heinous, although maybe the bloodstains on her clothes were evidence against that opinion.

Edward gently took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm and guided her further along the high street to the point where the stagecoach stopped to pick up passengers. Now they were nearing the point of farewell Edward felt a great weight being lifted from his shoulders. He had found it difficult sharing his home even just for one short night and was quite looking forward to getting back to the peace and quiet of an empty house. For a second he felt a pang of sadness. Once, long ago, he had enjoyed noise and company and laughter. With a sideways glance at Amelia he rallied. Now was not the time to waver in his resolution to put this troubled young woman on a stagecoach and wave her on her way.

If Jane were here, standing beside him and giving advice in that calm and sensible way of hers, she’d tell him to start living, to stop stagnating. She’d probably convince him to take pity on Amelia, shelter her from whatever trouble she was running from and learn once again to tolerate the company of others. Edward knew one day he would have to pick up the reins of his life again, to do more than spend his time sketching and reading, but with living came memories and he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront those yet.

‘You’re looking rather serious,’ Amelia said as they slowed to a stop at the side of the road.

‘Do you need any money?’ Edward asked, knowing he was avoiding Amelia’s comment.

She bit her bottom lip and fidgeted a little. It was the curse of the human race not to be able to ask for monetary help when they needed it.

‘Maybe just a little something to help you on your way,’ he said, placing a hand into his coat pocket.

One second he was standing at the side of the road, reaching for his coin purse, the next he was lying in some rather prickly bushes with Amelia on top of him.

‘What...?’ he began, but Amelia pressed a finger against his lips.

He tried to speak again, but was silenced by the look of pure terror in Amelia’s eyes. For almost a minute they lay there, Amelia frozen by fear and he trapped under her body. They were half-hidden from the road, but if anyone walked passed they would have a lot of explaining to do.

When another minute had passed without Amelia explaining or letting him up Edward began to feel the damp from the ground soaking into his trousers.

‘Will you tell me what’s going on, woman?’ he asked, quietly but firmly.

Amelia’s eyes widened with shock and fear and immediately Edward regretted his tone of voice.

‘Come, let’s stand up,’ he said more softly.

Amelia allowed him to help her to her feet, although he noticed she did not step back out on to the road, and her restraining hand on his arm stopped him from doing so too. For an instant Edward missed the warmth of her body as it had been pressed against his, but soon the feeling was replaced by irritation. The woman was crazy. First darting behind the clock tower and now wrestling him to the ground whilst they waited for the stagecoach.

‘Is he still there?’ Amelia hissed.

‘Who?’

She didn’t answer so Edward stepped forward and looked up and down the lane. It was completely empty. Maybe there was something not quite right in Amelia’s head. She seemed normal, if not conventional, most of the time, but then she went and did things like this. Then he remembered the blood-soaked clothes and the state Amelia had been in the night before and softened slightly. Something bad had occurred in Amelia’s life recently. That must be what was driving this fear.