She could do this. She could go on.
But her horse had reached the end of his endurance.
She forced words past lips that felt like solid ice. “We’re nearly home. Not far now.” God help both of them if she lied.
She fumbled for the reins and staggered ahead on foot. The horse followed docilely, too tired to resist, wading through dirty water that lapped over his fetlocks.
Eventually, she dragged the sodden greatcoat off and dropped it beside the path. Wet, it was heavier than lead, and it offered no protection. Or so she thought until she confronted the full force of the wind. The blue merino pelisse had been snug and warm on Jersey. Here, on a freezing Cornish moor in the middle of a deluge, she might as well have been naked.
Still she stumbled on. Her legs stung as if a thousand blades nicked at them. She shivered so badly, her muscles cramped to agony. She could no longer feel her feet.
The darkness now was nearly impenetrable. Devils in her head whispered that she’d die out on this moor and nobody would ever know Gideon was in trouble.
She strove to muffle the cruel voices, but with every footstep, their howls grew louder.
Then over the wail of the wind, the slap of the rain, she heard a dull pounding. It came closer and closer.
Her sluggish brain puzzled over the sound. Was it blood beating in her ears? Thunder? Gunfire? But who could fire a gun in this wet?
When the big black horse cantered out of the rain, like something risen from the mouth of hell, Charis stopped stock-still. Her dazed mind couldn’t comprehend she was no longer alone. Or whether this new arrival signaled danger or rescue.
“Lady Charis?”
The rider drew to a rearing halt in front of her. The risk she took standing in the middle of a road in Stygian darkness vaguely registered. Her horse tugged listlessly at the reins but was too weary to pull free.
Stupidly, she blinked up at the man looming above her in the saddle. Wa
ter cascaded down her face and obstructed her sight. She swallowed, trying to summon a greeting. Nothing emerged apart from a broken whimper.
“Lady Charis?” He dismounted in one easy move and stepped forward. “Lady Charis, it’s Akash.”
“Akash…” she croaked without moving.
“Gideon wrote from Jersey and told me to expect you this evening at the latest.”
“The weather…” Then the significance of his arrival struck so hard she staggered with dizzy relief. Sudden energy buzzed through her. Blood that had frozen abruptly began to flow again. Her mind churned with new hope and determination. “Akash, we have to help Gideon. My stepbrothers have him.”
She turned back the way she’d come. Akash would help. Akash would save Gideon. Everything would be all right.
“Wait.” Akash grabbed her arm. She was so cold, she hardly felt it. “You can’t go like this.”
Confused, she turned to stare at him. This didn’t make sense. Akash was Gideon’s friend. He’d saved him before. He’d save him now.
“Didn’t you hear me? Gideon’s in trouble.” Her voice became stronger as she strove to speak above the shrieking wind. “There’s no time to delay.”
He swept his hand across his face in a futile attempt to clear the rain from his eyes. “Charis, Penrhyn is only minutes away. At least come back and get dry. We’ll make plans there.”
Had she almost made it home? It seemed too good to be true. Reaction hit like an avalanche. Her knees threatened to fold under her. She glanced back to her brave little horse. He’d carried her this far, but he’d carry her no farther tonight.
She drew a sobbing breath, and the fight drained out of her. As she was, she was no use to Gideon. If she was to help him, first she needed warmth and food and a chance to recover her strength.
But how it tortured her to delay his rescue. Even when she recognized the necessity of finding shelter before she collapsed.
“Yes, take me home,” she said dully, and stood in shivering acquiescence as Akash wrapped his own much dryer coat around her.
Her heart in her throat, Charis crouched in the brown winter bracken and studied the overgrown entrance to the disused tin mine. It had stopped raining a couple of hours ago, and a cold gray dawn had broken.
She wore one of Gideon’s mother’s riding habits, and the ground under her was wet and muddy. At her side, Akash held a pair of beautifully chased silver pistols and watched the mine just as avidly. Hidden around them in the bracken were ten stalwart Penrhyn men. The same men who had unhesitatingly raced out into the foul night to locate Gideon.