The snow fell heavily, obscuring our vision as Thomas and I pushed the carriage horses harder. Something wasn't right. I'd felt it since we'd left the manor—eyes watching, shadows moving just beyond the treeline.
"Mr. Alistair," Thomas called from beside me, his voice nearly swallowed by the howling wind. "I think we're being followed."
I nodded grimly. "Keep steady. We're almost to the main road."
The words had barely left my lips when they struck. Four masked riders burst from the trees, surrounding our carriage. One grabbed for the horses' bridles while another aimed a pistol directly at me.
"Stop the carriage!" the armed man demanded.
Thomas reacted instantly, lashing out with the whip and catching the man across the face. I seized the moment to kick the man grasping for the horses, sending him tumbling into the snow.
"Go!" I shouted to Thomas.
