She ignored his jibes. “Remember what I said. I know you and Hubert are eager to prove your prowess on a defenseless man.”
Kicking the horse into a gallop, she forced it up the slippery path out of the dell. As she bent forward over the beast’s neck, her heart pounded out a single message. Gideon, wait for me.
Twenty-three
Up on the moor, the wind roared like an angry monster. It turned the driving rain into knives that pierced the thick greatcoat like muslin. Fierce cold sliced through Charis’s bones. But nothing made her colder than her fear for Gideon.
Her mount neighed and fought as she battled to turn it onto the faint path toward Penrhyn. She sawed furiously at the bit, but the animal was too frightened to settle.
“Please, please, behave for me,” she sobbed, tightening her thighs to keep her seat on the twisting horse. Her arms ached with stopping it bolting back the way they’d come.
Gideon needed her. Every second counted. Hunkering down in the saddle, she grimly set to gaining control over the beast.
Eventually, the animal began to splash its way westward at an unsteady gallop. Charis’s shoulders knotted with strain, and she panted for breath. She leaned over the horse’s neck, calling encouragement although she knew the gale whipped her words to oblivion.
All the time, her heart pounded out a silent message to Gideon.
Wait for me, my love. Wait for me. Wait for me.
Dread created its own swirling storm inside her. Not dread for herself, dread for her husband. Had he kept his ghosts away? What were Felix and Hubert doing to him? Where did they mean to keep him? Dear Lord, don’t let it be somewhere dark and constricted like the pit at Rangapindhi.
She blundered on. The rain turned her clothes to heavy wet ice. Her sodden braids collapsed and tumbled down, blinding her. With one shaking hand, she hurriedly dashed her dripping hair away from her eyes. The storm transformed the afternoon into night, lit by jagged flashes of lightning, punctuated by rolling thunder.
The horse released a high-pitched neigh and balked at a swollen stream. Ruthlessly, Charis kicked it until it launched into an ungainly jump. “Come on!”
The animal stumbled when it reached the crumbling bank. Charis slid dangerously, nearly fell into the raging flood. After a terrifying, breathless pause, the flagging horse found its feet, slipping in the mud.
She hoped to heaven she followed the right path. Or any path. Either she’d missed Penrhyn’s gateposts in the squall, or she was yet to reach them. Or she was hopelessly lost. Gideon said it was only a couple of miles to the house, but she felt she’d been riding forever.
“Stay with me.” Her frozen hands closed clumsily on the reins.
The weather worsened. The wind became a malevolent, deadly force. She wondered how the plucky little horse kept going.
“There’s a warm stable ahead. Oats. Hot bran mash. Soft straw for your bed.”
She repeated the promises over and over. She didn’t know if the gallant beast heard. The words were for her benefit as much as the horse’s. She kept talking until her voice scraped over her throat.
All the time, she struggled to hold on to hope. Hope that Gideon was safe. Hope that Akash and Tulliver would rescue her husband. Hope that she’d find her way home. If she was caught on the moor when night fell, what could she do?
Keep going.
What choice did she have?
Fatigue made her muscles burn like fire. Her arms felt like iron weights. Cold stole the strength from her legs. Her eyes stung with staring into the arctic blast. Anxiety for Gideon was an evil, black, roiling mass in her belly.
The horse stumbled again, and this time was slower to find his feet. After his initial reluctance, he’d proven a valiant companion.
“Not far now, I promise. Just one more effort. One more.” Her voice cracked, and tears she’d fought for so long rose to her eyes. Her teeth chattered so fast, she could barely speak. “It’s for Gideon, you see. We have to save him. He’s so good, and I love him more than life. And he’s suffered too much.”
The horse hung his head, his sides heaving with exhaustion, as the rain poured off him. Still crooning a fortifying litany, Charis slipped to the ground, landing with a splash. Icy water flooded her half boots. Her numb legs bent under her. She cried out sharply and grabbed the stirrup, just saving herself from hitting the ground. Her arms screamed in protest as she inched herself up. Her heart thudded furiously, her breath emerged in ragged gasps.
“Oh, Gideon, please be alive,” she sobbed in despair, burying her face in the horse’s saturated coat.
For a few seconds, she stood with the rain pounding down on her bare head. Stray pictures drifted into her mind, then dissolved. Coherent thought faded to a gray mist.
One idea remained clear. Gideon. She must save Gideon.
She blinked, forced her eyes to focus, her mind to function. Gideon needed her. She locked her knees until they held her upright. For a groggy moment, she clutched the slick leather stirrup. Then she released it and stood as the wind whipped around her.