A Rose in Winter (18 page)

The horse nickered and tossed its head, displaying its desire to be gone. Erienne saw no need to delay him. Having made up her mind, she was just as eager as he to be on her way.

She urged him from the lean-to, then caught her breath and bent her face away from a pelting gust of sleet. She loathed the prospect of another uncomfortable ride, but there was nothing short of a horrific disaster that would keep her from it.

Inside the inn, Avery's voice droned on while the innkeeper neared the front window to nudge Ben from his loud snoring. " 'Ere now, find yerself another place ter bed down. I'm tired o' hearin' 'at noise." He paused to look out the panes and gave a short grunt. "Now 'ere's one wit' a stiff craw," he observed, gesturing in the direction of the horse and rider coming down the road. "She'll be chilled ter her bones 'fore too long. I wonder who..." He stared at the figure more intently, then his jaw dropped as recognition came. " 'Od's bodken! Get yerself over 'ere, Mayor. Ain' that yer daughter?"

Avery waved an arm in dismissal. "Goin' out ter market, no doubt." He jerked his thumb to the handbill displayed on the opposite wall. "We've had a bit of a tiff over that, we have. Ain't hardly said two words ter me since me boy posted 'em. Gets a little uppity when things go agin' the way she wants. Goin' out on a day like this an' leavin' a good, warm fire shows she ain't got a brain in her head. Why..." He began to show a bit of concern and stepped toward the window, hitching up his breeches over his belly. "She could catch her death out there in the wet, and she'd fairly knock the bottom out o' the biddin' if she had ter stand up wit' a drippin' nose and a case o' the sniffles."

"Goin' ter market, "ha!" Jamie scoffed. "She gots her a mount and a big bundle on behind her." He suppressed his rising laughter at the sight of Avery's darkening scowl and suddenly crimson face. His voice was almost small as he continued. "I think she's havin' none o' it, Mayor. I think... she's leavin' ye."

Avery launched himself toward the portal and jerked it open as his daughter rode past. He ran out onto the street, bellowing her name, but Erienne, recognizing his voice, slashed Socrates's flanks to send the animal into a full-out gallop down the road.

"Erienne!" Avery called again, then cupped his hands and shouted at the rapidly fleeing figure. "Erienne Fleming! Come back here, ye little twit! There's no place from here ter London where ye can hide from me! Come back! Come back, I say!"

A sense of panic seized Erienne. Perhaps it had only been a wild guess her father made, but his threat set her plans awry. He would follow. He would rouse Farrell, and they would soon be after her on whatever conveyance they could find. If she kept to the road south, they might overtake her, or if she reached London, he would give the word to his friends to keep an eye out for her, no doubt promising a healthy reward if they brought her back.

A sudden thought dawned. If she rode on until she was out of sight of the hamlet, then cut westward for a space and picked up the old coast road going north, she might yet escape them all. She smiled at her own wisdom and the accompanying vision of her father riding south at breakneck speed. He would be furious when he could not find her.

A short distance past Mawbry, Erienne slowed the horse to a walk and began to watch for a rocky place where her departure from the road could not be later noted. Leaving the lane, she wove a serpentine path through a wooded copse for a time, and farther on prodded Socrates over a rocky slope and through a small, shallow stream. By the time she was headed north, she was fairly confident that her trail could not be followed.

Once she had made the wide sweep around Mawbry, she let Socrates go at his own speed. The gelding was not in condition for extended runs and tired easily when she prodded him into the faster gaits. At the slower pace, she felt the chill more and clutched the heavy woolen cloak about her in an attempt to find as much warmth as possible.

The ground grew considerably more broken and hilly as she progressed northward. Undulating moors spotted with gray tarns swept out before her, fading into obscurity as the leaden sky came down to touch the horizon.

Around noon, she paused to take food and rest, finding shelter beneath a tree. Huddling in her cloak, she chewed on a piece of cold meat and tore off a small chunk of bread, then shared water with the gelding, who grazed nearby. She tried to rest, but the persistent presence of grayish-green eyes staring at her from the back of her mind thwarted her effort. It irritated her that even in his absence he could annoy her.

In the saddle again, she was forced to concentrate on the terrain. The going was becoming steadily more difficult, with gullies and washouts cutting her path now and again. The knolls and hills were barren and windswept with a few gnarled trees. In the deeper, sheltered valleys, the oaks were tall and ancient, spreading their limbs far over her head, having left a twisted jumble of fallen, moss-bedecked branches and brushwood for her to guide her mount through.

By late afternoon, a great weariness took hold of her, and she began to entertain the idea of finding shelter. Coming upon a narrow path in a wooded copse, she paused a moment to survey the land. Somewhere ahead of her the baying of hounds blended with the soft sounds of the falling mists. It was a welcoming sound, for it promised of civilization nearby.

Suddenly in the silence a rock tumbled behind her, startling her. With her heart thumping in her bosom she gazed over her shoulder and peered through the oncoming gloom, searching for the source. Nothing stirred, yet she could not shake the feeling that something was out there. Uneasy now, she urged Socrates forward into his loose-jointed canter and crossed a rise in the path where she pulled the horse up in the shelter of a large tree, turning him about so she could view the trail behind her without being seen. She waited tensely, remembering Christopher's dire warnings about traveling alone. At the moment she thought she might welcome the sight of him. At least he was no friend of her father.

The clatter of horse's hooves and tumbling stones again startled her from her thoughts. Whirling Socrates about, she kicked him into a full run, keeping him to the side of the path, where the ground was soft and the hoofbeats echoed less. She raced headlong down the narrow, winding lane. Beyond the gnarled roots of a twisted tree, the path dipped down, then turned hard, almost back upon itself. Socrates slipped but managed to keep his feet beneath him, and with wild abandon flung himself around the bend, charging full bore into a large pack of yelping, scattering hounds that were hot on the trail of a fleeing hind. Their blood was up, and they snapped at the flashing hooves as the frightened horse jumped and reared. The reins were jerked from Erienne's hands, and in desperation she gripped the flying mane with both hands, fighting to keep her slippery seat. One hound drew blood, and the warm, wet taste in his mouth was all it took. As the horse dashed on past in a wild-eyed frenzy, the dog threw back his head and gave vent to a hunting call. It sent the pack in quick pursuit of this new quarry that raced on down the trail.

The path angled across a swift-flowing brook. Only the open way of the stream could be seen, and without guidance the horse swerved to follow it. He sped along the rock-strewn bed against the current, sending a spray of water wide on either side. She cried out for him to stop and tried to turn his head as she saw ahead of them a rising hill over which the stream tumbled in burbling abandon. As he struck the first upslope, the gelding went to his knees, and Erienne fought to stay in the saddle. Then he lunged upward, trying to climb the rocky streambed. He slid and stumbled backward, then slowly clawed the air with his forefeet before he began to topple over.

Erienne's cry of alarm was silenced abruptly when she hit the rock-littered bank. Her head slammed against a moss-covered stone, and a white flash of pain burst in her brain. Slowly the brightness ebbed, and a deepening dusk descended. She saw the dark shapes of the trees above her, wavering and indistinct as if through a sheet of water. Fighting the darkening shrouds of oblivion, she rolled and tried to rise to her feet. The glade swam and dipped with a sudden lurch. She caught herself against the icy bank, struggling against the current that would drag her in deeper while her legs grew numb in the cold, rippling stream.

The baying had changed to a snarling, yelping melange, and she could see a confusion of roiling white and brown at the vale's edge and realized the pack was nearly upon her. One charged closer, snarling and snapping, and in desperation, Erienne lashed out weakly with the riding crop that was still clutched in her fist. The dog yelped and leapt away as it struck. Another tried, and for his effort got the same treatment, but Erienne's arms were growing weary, her vision blurred. The pain in the back of her head was spreading down her neck and across her shoulders. It tore at every nerve in her being, sapping her strength and her will. The hounds sensed her weakness and gathered eagerly closer. Erienne fought to clear her vision and waved the crop feebly in front of her.

The hounds saw before them a wounded beast, and the heat of the chase filled them. They snarled and snapped at each other, working up courage for the kill. Erienne slipped, sliding deeper in the water, and the icy coldness of it made her gasp. The wet chill crept upward through her bodice, while its frigid touch numbed her lower body. She lashed out with the quirt again, but her strength was rapidly fleeing, and though she caught the hip of a hound who had ventured too close, she knew it would only be a matter of time before they would win.

Suddenly a sharp shout rent the air, followed by the crack of a whip. The rattling crash of hooves came along the streambed, and a long-legged black horse raced into view, sending geysers of water spraying up around him. His rider lashed out with a long whip as they plunged into the pack, drawing blood from one hound after another until they tucked their tails and fled, yelping.

Erienne clutched the tangle of roots with both hands, and her head sagged wearily against her outstretched arms. She saw the man as if through a long tunnel. He came to ground with a single bound, his cloak flying wide behind him until he resembled a great bird swooping down toward her. Erienne smiled with detached amusement and closed her eyes, hearing him splash across the stream toward her. His arm slipped beneath her shoulders, and a hoarse voice murmured words that failed to penetrate her confusion as he pried her fingers loose from the roots. Strong, steel-sinewed arms lifted her and held her close against a broad chest. Her head lolled limply on his shoulder, and even the fear that she might be in the clutches of some dreaded winged beast could not rouse her from her darkening world.

Chapter Six

A yellowish-red glow became her sun, a light shining through the darkness, warming her pleasantly and giving her comfort. It was the focal point of her reality, a nurturing sphere of fire and flame, a sun that refused to die. Its energy burst in tiny, flaring sparks that arched and fell, hissing into oblivion, only to be followed again and again by the same crackling display of colored fire. Green, blue, red, yellow fanned upward in an undulating array of hues, expanding from a base of white-hot heat. Yet beyond the glow there was blackness, deep and impenetrable, and she was held within it, like a solitary planet bound in orbit by a force too powerful to resist, feeling the warmth of the sun but unable to draw closer.

Erienne fought her way upward through shreds of sticky, clinging slumber and became distantly aware that her sun was nothing more than a fire blazing in a huge stone hearth. Her eyelids were heavy, her vision blurred. There was a dull, throbbing ache in the back of her head and a great weariness in her limbs. Her bruised body, stripped of its wet garments, was wrapped in soft, furry comfort. Velvet draperies hung from the canopy of the bed and were pulled shut on three sides to shield her from the cold drafts of the room, while the side facing the hearth remained opened to catch the warmth. With the fire, the enveloping velvet tent, and the soft fur coverings she was well protected from that dreadful icy chill that haunted her from an earlier time.

She rolled her head against a pillowy softness, and her nostrils caught an evasive half-sweet, leathery man-smell from the fur throws that enveloped her. The scent stirred a memory of strong arms holding her close and of her cheek resting against a stalwart shoulder. And was there... was there a moment when warm lips touched her own?

Without fear or panic the realization drifted down upon her that as long as she had been awake, she had unconsciously heard the deep, even breathing of someone else in the room. She listened until she determined the sound came from the shadows near the hearth. A tall armchair stood facing the bed, partially silhouetted against the warm glow of the firelight, and within it a man sat oddly hunched, his face and torso lost in darkness. The flickering light danced across his legs, and the shadow of one appeared twisted and misshapen.

She must have gasped, for the heavy breathing stopped and a towering black form rose from the chair. He came toward the bed, and against the firelight, his huge cloaked form seemed to shift and grow and broaden in a cold, disjointed way. Hidden in the shadows, the face was devoid of features. Fingers that seemed more like the taloned claws of an eagle reached out, and weakly Erienne tried to move away. The effort proved too much, and she did not struggle as reality, such as it was, slipped from her tenuous grasp.

Erienne's mind wandered restlessly through a mirage of flame and shadow, fleeing from one and finding no comfort in the other. The fire was intense, holding her mind and body in a sweltering heat that made her toss and turn. Broken words spilled from her lips as she fought the torment. Then darkness blew its chilly breath upon her, sending a shiver through her. Out of the night emerged a winged creature that perched at the end of the bed. Tilting its grotesque head from side to side, it carefully watched her with eyes that glowed red in the meager light. She whimpered as it drew nearer, and her muffled cries echoed her fear.