When the dark body of the tipped coach appeared, half submerged in the flood waters, his stomach dropped. A glance through the rain revealed one of Hadleigh Hall’s drivers lying on the opposite bank while Sarah’s young maid stood nearby, her arms wrapped around herself, the picture of a bedraggled rat. The other driver had waded into the water to unharness the horses.
Where the devil was his wife?
“Sarah!” He approached the bank and then hollered at the driver. “Archie, where’s the countess?”
The man jerked his head up, squinted in the rain. “Thank God you’re here, my lord.” He wiped at the water on his face. “Her Lordship went back inside the coach to retrieve a flute, she said.” The rain almost drowned out his explanation. “I tried to talk her out of it, but she was near hysterical about finding it.”
“And she stubbornly argued against common sense, all for the flute.” Which represented her dreams and was the last item she had that her father had given her. Oh, Sarah. Drew held up a hand. “I understand.” When he ran his gaze over the waterlogged coach, a flash of movement caught his attention. As he stared, dumbfounded, his wife slowly appeared, pulling herself up through the door until she perched on the side, her stocking-clad legs fully on display, the leather handle of her flute case clenched firmly between her teeth. “Sarah!”
She wrenched her head around at his call. After removing the case’s handle from her mouth, she stared. “Andrew!”
Was it his imagination or did the driving rain play tricks on him, for he thought he saw a wide grin split her lips? Surely a woman in a snit with him wouldn’t do such a thing if she unexpectedly came upon her absent husband. “What the deuce are you doing? Come down from there.” He glanced at his valet, who shrugged.
“I had to find my flute.” She glanced between him and the bank where her maid waited. “I can’t climb down with it, though.”
Foolish, adorable thing. Didn’t she realize that she was more valuable than anything else? “Toss it to me then.”
“You’ll catch it, right?” Sarah clutched the instrument case to her chest as if it were a child. If they came out of this thing alive with their marriage intact, he would move heaven and earth to make her dreams of being a professional musician come true.
“Yes, of course, but Archie, Barton, and I can’t attempt to rescue you unless you have full use of both your hands.” He looked to the driver. Both horses were freed, and as soon as Drew’s coach pulled into view far down the road, the horses splashed and struggled out of the creek to greet them.
“Very well.” Her hair lay plastered to her skull, and her drenched skirts clung to her person. “Here it comes!”
As far as throws went, it wasn’t the best, but as the case tumbled tip over tail in a low arc toward him, Drew launched himself and caught it like he used to do with balls his brothers threw in their childhood. When Archie climbed out of the creek and moved to his location, Drew thrust the case into his hands. “Look after this with your life, for if it’s lost, I’ll direct the countess’ wrath to you.”
“I’ll be careful.” Archie walked toward the oncoming coach.
“I’m coming down.” The sound of Sarah’s voice had him jerking around to face the tipped coach once more.
“Wait!” But when had she ever followed instructions he’d issued? As he watched with horrified fascination, she flipped onto her belly while her legs dangled over the side of the vehicle. Then she slid down, hanging onto the edge of the coach with her gloved hands. In an attempt to find purchase on the rear wheel, her hand slipped.
A scream was ripped from her while Drew’s heart lodged in his throat. She fell into the water, going under briefly, but her head surfaced, and she clung to the wheel. “Andrew!”
“Bloody hell.” Icy fear rooted his feet to the spot for the span of a few heartbeats.
“I’ll go, my lord,” Barton said, already moving toward the bank.
“No. If you must help, take one of the horses and ride of Hadleigh Hall, alert them to the situation so they’ll be ready when the rest of us arrive.”
“You’re sure?” Barton narrowed his eyes.
“Yes. I must do this.” He waved a hand.
“Very well. Best of luck.” Then the man was off.
Drew turned his attention back to his wife. “I can’t lose you, Sarah,” he whispered. They hadn’t had enough time together; he’d only just realized how much she meant to him. The current rushed against her as she held onto the wheel, and the gathering darkness coupled with the rain made it deuced difficult to analyze the scene clearly.
“If I could gain a foothold,” she shouted, and broke the horrid spell he’d fallen under.
“Don’t move.” Willing himself into motion, Drew approached the edge of the creekbank, conscious of the muddy conditions. “I’m coming in for you.”
“Be careful. It’s dangerous.” Water droplets obscured the lenses of her spectacles, and he doubted that she could see him all that well.
His heart squeezed. In the midst of her own peril, she worried about his safety. “Hold on.” Testing the integrity of the bank, Drew gingerly climbed down but was soon in the rapidly moving swollen creek. Christ, that’s cold. Then he shoved the thought away and concentrated on grabbing the wheel nearest to him. He sank further into the water, and it rushed hard at the center of his chest. Five feet of churning, moving, muddy creek separated him from her, but at the moment it might have been five miles. This operation required delicacy and patience—both of which he didn’t have. Cold fear kept him company as he moved his hand, inch by slow inch, over the wheel, clinging to the wooden spokes. He extended an arm, merely to see if he could touch her.
Almost, but not quite.
“Give me your hand, slowly.” The drum of the steady rain filled his ears, and he was deuced tired of the constant moisture in his eyes, but there was nothing for it.