Chapter nineteen
Her safety had not occured to her when she made that jump. But she made it. And it was up to fate now to decide if she was going to live.
While she descended the length of the building, her eyes fell on the stack of hay right below her, and she smiled at that.
Turned out Elizabeth wanted to save her life afterall. Although she almost missed it, she landed safely on the soft stack of dry grass with a deep compression.
Somehow it was impossibly relaxing. But no matter how tempting it was, she was on a tight spot, and without thinking twice, she rushed to her feet and spent just enough time wiping some of the grass off her.
She thought she had escaped temporarily from those mad men. But when Monica looked up, she realized she had landed herself into more trouble.
At least she could count the number of men back up in the mansion, but now the size was intimidating. And more were still coming from different directions. Was Elizabeth really trying to save her life or end it? That thought made her look down at the gun in her hand.
The men were innocent for death. Besides, there was no way the bullets would kill them all. Shivering in fright, she looked around at the bodyguards approaching her, automatically surrendering to the situation. If miracles did happen, there was none suitable to save her now.
Or so she thought.
A sight crossed her left eye, coming finally into full view. A person clothed in a hooded cloak came towards her upon a strong, black horse. She would have thought he was against her if he had not stretched an arm out for her to clutch.
A saviour! His identity could wait. She had to get out of there.
She glanced at the opponents who were fast approaching and returned her stare to the horse the other way not so far ahead.
Steadily, she made a stance as the animal rode by. And skillfully, immediately it came before her, she grabbed the saviour riding it by his stretched arm and let him pull her upon it.
Immediately both of them were balanced upon the horse, the stranger whipped the horse and bent forward, making it gallop with full speed.
Just when Monica was about to give a victory dance, she noticed five men grab horses as well, following the black, Arabian one in front.
It was seconds after that they made it out the wide gate and began riding on a long stretch of grassland.
As much as the black horse was impossibly fast, it wouldn't be long after before the men at their tails would catch up with them.
The hooded man in front of her seemed to be trying his best, whipping the animal to command more speed. That was the most he could do. Still…they needed more.
With that, Monica decided it was more they would get.
Carefully, she turned herself upon the animal so she sat to face the men approaching. She would have fallen off if not the horse rider clutched her quickly. When she confirmed her balance, she raised the pistol to aim at the men.
Obviously she was not going to shoot them. She wouldn't let her frustration with Elizabeth end the lives of these men. Either way, they had to be stopped.
Monica released four shots at four different horses, making them gallop uncontrollably in pain and fall forcefully. When she pulled the trigger again, she had run out of bullets. But there was still one man riding to them on full speed.
With similar care, she turned herself around again so she sat properly. With no means of defense now, there was only one risky trick off her sleeve.
The soldier behind them was fast approaching, and at the same time, pulled out his sword with a loud slash sound. Soon after, he was right beside them. Well that wasn't good.  The only thing she thought of was something very stupid.
The Scottish clutched her saviour's shoulders with both hands, and with them as support, she jumped unto the opponent's horse. Without even a proper landing, Monica knocked the man off the animal with her elbow.
With that taken care of, she held the horse's straps for support and took full charge of the animal, riding quickly behind the stranger who had helped her.
Who was he anyway?
He turned out of the grassland into a lain in the woods beside them, hoping she wouldn't follow.
But with somebody like Monica, he was out of his mind to think she would let him leave like that. Curiously, she did the same, kicking her horse again and again to catch up with him.
And when she did, she asked the first question anyone would, "Who are you? Take off your hood!"
He…or she ignored her and rode on. Well that was rude, Monica huffed and eyed the person through. He had a bow hooked to his horse's girdle while the complementary case of arrows hung over his shoulder. They were not ordinary bows and arrows, that she was sure.
The weapons seemed to be imprinted with an unmistakable French design and touches of gold that obviously cost a fortune.
The first clue she had now was, the stranger was a very wealthy one, being able to afford such imported arrows.
Second clue, he was rude to ignore her, proud and surely extravagant. So he was rich and wanted everyone to know about it, even the animals he was going to hunt with those arrows. And there was only one person in England Monica knew had all three qualities.
With a roll of her eyes, she announced blatantly, "Jason!"
With that, the stranger shook the hood off his head but kept on riding.
And it was really no one else but the Earl of Vetcom. Well Monica just kicked her animal to go along with his. And she did not plan to stop unless he cleared the shock he had surely created in her head. Why would he of all people who once wanted to throw her into a ditch save her life.
Jason faced her and returned his gaze immediately to the front, shaking a colony of hair off his face, "Thank me later. As for now, let me be and go away." Then he whipped his horse again, increasing pace and distance between them.
However, as he annoyingly expected, the Scottish disobeyed, "No!" She leaned forward to move her animal faster, "I most wonder why someone who has sworn eternal dislike towards me would now save me from maddened men."
The Earl suddenly shot her a hard glare capable of melting. But she just frowned harder, urging him to speak up.
"I wish I left you there," he said shortly afterwards when he looked away, and got a laugh out of her.
"But you did not," Monica stated much to his displeasure. Deep down though, he knew she had a point.
With that, he raised his face to look ahead, "Do well not to bother me after I tell you why."
"A capital notion," she declared.
After slight hesitation, the Earl damped the pace of his horse bit by bit. A while later, it was only walking. Monica had done the same already, walking right beside his.
Jason turned to her, "Earl and I have always had a problem with the Viscount's daughter from day one. We know what's she's up and it's nothing good. And plus, I was raised to abhor the punishment of the innocent. My saving you had no deeper reasons."
Even before she had the chance to say anything to that, he whipped his horse and sent it galloping away again.
However, while she watched him  ride away, she shouted to him, "Thank you."
If he heard her, he did not show it. This was one of the painful dilemmas she knew she had to face because of Kilmarnock; dealing with attitude with attitude like his.
Oh but she did know how bend things as strong as metal, literally. Revealing his humility would not be much of a problem.
***
The Earl arrived at the Duke's estate well over midday with a strange feeling of restlessness.
He had saved Monica, clearly temporarily. Expectedly, more people will come, either to end her life or to inform the Duke about it. Either way, the outcome would be ugly.
He descended the horse and strode quickly towards the entrance doors of the mansion. As he neared it, a footman pushed them open and ushered him. When he had walked a few steps in, he shrugged his coat off for another man at the corner to hang on the rack. Twisting his neck, he clenched his jaw harder to a deep frown. Somebody was having a disgusting day. He knew Elizabeth was wrong for Philip from the start, but now he realized she was more than wrong. She was the start of doom for the Forlands and that was not an easy thought to swallow.
His strides had not decreased in length while he went towards the last hallway, determined to save everything before it went south. Temporarily again, of course. There was nothing more he could do.
His boots made loud taps against the luxurious dark green marble floors that stretched almost the entire area of the building. As he stepped into the Duke's office, Philip was clearly not seated behind his desk. To be honest, he was not even there. Still, someone else was, someone the Earl had no darn idea what his identity could be. But the man's presence gave him a bad knot in his stomach for some reason he was not sure of.
Jason tilted his head while he studied the visitor and walked deeper into the chamber.
The man came to his feet immediately and placed a hand on his chest, his head in a low bow of reverence, "My Lord."
He looked to be in his late prime, and was dressed in a uniform he recognized to belong to butlers. And Jason was sure that was not Tiffany. The older man had the darkest shade of black for his hair which was parked into a careless bun. But his appearance was none of Jason's business.
The Earl placed his hands behind him and raised his chin, giving the older man his usual look of belittlement, "Who are you?"
The butler smiled lightly. Even when he recognized the tone too well, he regained his respectful pose and replied, "I am Gareham. I serve as a butler for the Viscount of Mareda."
Damnation!
That was all the man needed to say to bring the restlessness and fear back to the Earl's youthful face. Still, he held his gaze, determined to hide the emotion within. He knew they would come for Monica soon. But not this soon!
With a solemn sigh, he lowered his chin and gave the man a hard glare.
He needed a plan.