![]() She lay on the sandy ground, winded, her empty lungs gasping frantically for breath that would not come. Thump! Faith tripped over a root and crashed into the ground. Behind her, men crashed through the undergrowth. ![]() ![]() Sticks and thorns slashed at her legs, but she was oblivious. She snatched it up in desperate fists and ran on. Her skirt caught on twigs and spiny thorns. She ran as fast as she could, waving through scrubby bushes and low grasses. “ Là-bas!” Over there! They spotted her and gave chase. Men who’d driven her to hide in the sand hills in the first place. She snatched up her homespun woolen cloak and her reticule and keeping low, began to creep away as fast as she could.īehind her lay the town before her, who knew? But she had no intention of heading back to town. Three men, maybe more.įaith didn’t wait to be sure. She’s waiting, snug in her little nest for us.” The speaker laughed coarsely. “Are you sure she’s here?” he asked in rough French. She heard another man stumble in the dark, crashing into one of the low bushes that dotted the sand hills. “ Où es-tu, ma jolie poulet?” Where are you, my pretty hen? The man sounded drunk, whoever he was. It was moving slowly, unevenly towards her hiding place. A light bobbed in the sand hills above her. ![]() Voices. There were voices in the dark, in the sand hills. Excerpt: The Perfect Stranger Book 3: The Merridew Sisters ![]()
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