They only made it two steps before breaking into a run. Rose gripped Jack's hand so tightly her knuckles were white. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could feel herself teetering dangerously; the heels on her shoes were short and fat, but nonetheless they hadn't been designed with running and dodging in mind. She didn't even notice the shocked—and in some cases outraged—stares they were receiving. Neither of them did. Jack was focusing all of his energy on getting them away. He didn't care where they ended up—at least, he didn't care yet. All he knew was Rose was terrified, and since he couldn't fight the thing that was scaring her, he would do everything he could to put as much distance as possible between her and it—or in this case, between her and him.
As they rounded yet another corner and almost crashed face-first into yet another group of unsuspecting pedestrians—which Jack yet again skillfully avoided—Rose felt her legs begin to give out. Her calf muscles ached. Stabbing pains shot through her feet. Just keep going, she told herself. The rational part of her knew neither Cal nor anyone else had followed them, but the other part of her, the part that still wasn't sure any of it was real, the part that couldn't block out the terror and pain, wasn't so sure. She opened her mouth wide and sucked in as much air as she could. Just hold onto Jack and keep going.
Jack glanced over at her. His heart filled with guilt as his eyes swept over her flushed face and heaving chest. So much for thinking about her. They were going too fast to just stop, so he settled for gradually slowing their pace; a minute later they stopped completely. Rose's arms hung limply at her sides, her right hand still entwined with Jack's. She closed her eyes and leaned against the building next to them. The cool brick felt good against her cheek.
Jack leaned over her. "Are you okay?"
She nodded and opened her eyes. "I'm fine," she said, breaking into a small smile. "Are you all right?"
He grinned and tossed his head, flinging his soft blond hair into his eyes. "Of course," he said with mock bravado. "I'm a survivor."
She laughed quietly and pulled him closer. Taking his other hand, she said, "You don't know how grateful for that I am." She looked up into his eyes. "You saved me, Jack."
"Back there, you mean?" His gaze moved to the side of her head. It was impossible to tell Cal had ripped a small handful of hair from her head just minutes before, but that didn't matter. It had still happened. That bastard still put his hands on her. "I'm the reason you got hurt."
"You mean when he pulled my hair? Oh, Jack, that doesn't matter! That isn't even the worst thing he's ever done to me." As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she had made a mistake. His mouth thinned and his entire body tensed. His eyes changed from the beautiful blue she loved to a color more closely resembling black.
"What is the worst thing he's done to you?" Jack asked quietly. Rose's blood ran cold. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. "I know he hit you," he continued. "And I want to kill him with my bare hands just for that. Hell, I want to kill him just for scaring you the way he has."
"Then the last thing you need," she said, a slight tremor in her voice, "is another reason to want to kill him."
Jack sighed heavily and dropped his head. Shame had replaced anger as his dominant emotion. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…that was wrong. I—"
"Shh…" Rose took his face in her hands. "Did you ask because you love me?" He nodded. "And because you want to protect me?" He nodded again. "Then there's nothing to be sorry about." She placed a light kiss on his lips. "I love you, too. And you did save me. Maybe you can't see it right now, but you will."
*****
Meanwhile, across town, there wasn't a servant in the house who didn't know something had happened, and in fact she doubted whether anyone within a ten-mile radius didn't know given the volume of Cal's voice at times, but no one except her knew just what had happened. They all had their own theories, but none even came close to the truth.
Lisa rushed into the kitchen. "Did you hear?" she asked excitedly.
"Hear what?" Bonnie, the cook, asked.
Mary sat on a stool eating a slice of bread and butter with sugar sprinkled on top. She was supposed to be cleaning Rose's bedroom, but given the current state of affairs, she was choosing to give herself a rest instead. It isn't as though she's coming back, she reasoned. At least, not if that fellow has anything to say about it.
"They're sending the police after Miss Rose!" Lisa cried.
Bonnie gasped and dropped the potato she had been peeling. "Why?"
Mary's ears perked up. The police? She had never anticipated it would go that far. They must care more about getting her back than they do about causing a scandal. Never thought I'd see the day.
"Are they saying she was carried off?" Bonnie continued.
Lisa shook her head. "No. In fact, Mr. Hockley's saying she and some man robbed him and ran off together. He's saying they planned this huge heist, but he caught them in the act and they got scared and ran. He's saying he'll find 'em if it's the last thing he does."
The bite Mary swallowed tasted like sawdust. She knew that wasn't what had happened, but she doubted telling anyone would do any good.