Heart of the Diamond (29 page)

Andrew nodded wordlessly. Nicki sensed his helplessness. He, too, adored the horses. This was senseless destruction. The fragile strand holding her emotions in check snapped and Nicki swung about, prepared to pour out all her anger and agony.

Blake stood only inches from her, though she had not heard his approach. He took her arm in a grip that told her he would allow no protest. “Your Grace, I will see to your daughter. Perhaps you should get the hunt underway. The dogs are restless.”

Nicki's father nodded. She stared at him in amazement as Blake led her past him and into the stables. As soon as the stable doors thudded closed, she snatched her arm free.

“I trusted you!” She curled her fingers into fists. “How could I have been such a fool?”

The earl moved to stand several feet away and crossed his arms over his chest in the casual gesture so much a part of him. “I have allowed your wild accusations thus far because you are distraught. Be warned. From this point forward, I will not listen to further recriminations.”

The air in the stables thickened. Nicki struggled to draw breath into her lungs, but the wooden walls spun wildly. Blindly, she reached out toward the darkness creeping across her consciousness. She stumbled, but managed to recover her footing.

Then strong arms enfolded her, righting the world, but leaving her still victim to the blackness. She wanted to hide, to go where the pain could never find her.

Long moments passed. Gradually, Nicki became aware of small sounds—the soft rustle of straw, the low expectant nicker offered by Aphrodite, the soothing timbre of the voice close to her ear. She had not heard Blake's words, did not care to hear them. With a supreme effort of will, she thrust herself away from the comfort offered by his embrace.

Across the minute distance that separated them, she met his stare. A realization crashed over her, as chilling as the wind outside. Someone purposefully poisoned the horses that were to go to their new owners this spring—and the only person with a desire to see her father suffer financial ruin stood before her. He was unbending, unyielding, and he refused to offer explanation or supposition.

She had trusted him, had given her heart to him, naively maintaining that goodness and honor dwelt beneath that hard exterior despite Teddy's assertions to the contrary. How could she have been so terribly wrong?

Bright red stained his white shirt front beneath his charcoal jacket. Almost absently, Nicki held out her hands to examine the cuts slashed across her palms and fingers, vaguely surprised she felt no physical pain.

A thunk sounded and the stable doors swung wide. Andrew entered leading Zeus and Blake's mount. Nicki stepped back to allow him to pass with the animals, then hurriedly pulled the doors closed after them. As she turned back to the inner chamber, she crossed her arms and carefully tucked her bloodstained hands from view.

She did not know what to do—how to feel.

Blake took the reins of his horse and waited patiently as Andrew locked Zeus in a stall, then motioned toward another. Nicki strained to hear their words, but their voices were too low.

Andrew shook his head adamantly and Nicki soon learned the reason for his reaction. Blake led his horse into Hera's abandoned stall. The reckless gesture confused her.

She forced her body into motion. “Blake, you mustn't! What if Hera was poisoned here, in her stall?”

The silver eyes viewed her from behind their icy shroud. “Surely you must know my reasoning. After all, you are so certain I orchestrated this grisly occurrence.”

The words snapped over her head like the crack of a whip, yet Nicki did not feel their sting. She realized in that moment she had hurt him—badly enough that he struck out at her in retaliation.

“Andrew, we will go to Hera,” she said softly. “I presume you put her in the old stables.”

“Aye, milady, but . . . well . . . ye shouldn't be seein’ ‘er like she is.”

“His lordship will be with me. You stay here and wait for the hunting party to return.”

Andrew appeared about to argue, then glanced at the earl. “We was with ‘er most the night. Me boy went to get some sleep and I ‘ad to ready the ‘orses for the ‘unt.”

“I know you have done all you can, Andrew. If she must die, it is best I be the one to ease her passing.”

“Aye, milady.”

This time when Blake took Nicki's arm, she allowed his touch.

“This way.” Her voice whispered through the heaviness of the air.

She led Blake out the back door of the stable and into the corral. At the far end of the fenced area was a gate leading into a second enclosure surrounding an old barn that was now used mainly for the storage of grain and tack.

Once inside the dilapidated, windowless building, it took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Nicki froze. One of the stalls had several lanterns hanging from spikes positioned high in the wooden walls. Beneath the slatted boards, she saw Hera lying down, her head drooped wearily toward the floor.

Nicki pressed her fist to her mouth to muffle a cry of despair even as she stepped closer to the opening. Fresh straw created a soft bed, but the mare had passed beyond caring. The heavy silence resounded with the harsh rasp of the horse's labored breathing.

Blake stepped around Nicki and entered the stall. As Nicki watched, he knelt next to Hera's head. With his gloved hand he stroked her sweat-dampened neck gently. His voice soothed the horse just as it had done for her only moments before. Hera offered no response. As Blake's hand traveled along her trembling side, the mare's eyes rolled back to show white.

Tears choked Nicki. To think the other horses had died like this—and now Hera. She swiped impatiently at the wetness on her cheeks. The ridiculous peacock feather tickled her hand. Nicki reached up, dragged the pins from her hair, and flung the hat aside. She unbuttoned the short blue spencer and tossed it aside as well. She intended to be with the horse until the very end, no matter how long the vigil might be.

She dropped to her knees on the straw beside Blake. When he glanced at her there seemed to be a softening in his expression, but it quickly disappeared—if it had ever been there. “It does not look good for your Hera, Nicole. Perhaps you should return to the house.”

She shook her head vehemently, causing her loosened hair to cascade about her in tangles. She drew in a deep breath as she reached back to clumsily twist the loose strands into a knot. “I will stay.”

Blake stood and removed his gloves and jacket. As he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, he watched Hera's every movement. “We must get her on her feet. She's smothering.”

Standing was the last action Hera intended to perform. No amount of cajoling or tugging could encourage her further than into an awkward crouch. Gasping from their efforts, Nicki and Blake looked to each other for some better solution.

“We shall have to find some rope and rig some type of sling to lift her. She is too weak to do the work herself, but perhaps with our help . . . ”

Nicki nodded, anxious to try anything to ease Hera's discomfort. She took one of the lanterns from a hook nearby and left the stall, moving to the tack room. Shining the lantern to and fro, she saw an overwhelming jumble of items, some old and useless, some newer. She lifted a heavy loop of rope from a peg on the wall as well as a canvas blanket that appeared to be in fairly good condition. Nicki retrieved a blade used for cutting rope that lay on a wooden counter nearby and a pair of thick leather gloves. Armed with her implements, she returned to Blake.

He surveyed her supplies perfunctorily as she replaced the lantern on the empty hook. When Nicki returned to his side, he gave her an admiring look, which brought heat rushing to her face. “I can look for anything more you might need,” she said quickly.

Blake worked swiftly and decisively, slashing incisions in the canvas and stringing the rope through the slits. He ran the rope the length of the blanket and out the other end before cutting it and doing the same on the other side.

“The blanket alone would never hold her weight, so I have run the rope beneath the fabric as a support. With the blanket between her and the rope she should be more comfortable.”

Nicki nodded. In the space of moments, Blake had once again earned her complete trust. She could not fathom that she had for the briefest instant believed him capable of harming her precious horses.

Blake surveyed the walls of the stall, then glanced at Nicki. “I might be able to pull one side, but you . . . ”

“I can try. Please, Blake, we cannot give up now!”

He held the makeshift sling in one hand and reached out to touch Nicki's face gently with the other. “We will not give up.”

Fighting back tears, she dropped to her knees on the floor next to Hera and stroked her soft muzzle. From there she watched as Blake pushed on the walls of the stall to check their sturdiness, then surveyed the heavy beam than ran several feet above the stall. “Have you an idea?”

His silver eyes sparkled. “I believe I do. Wait here.”

Blake left the stall. Nicki shivered and continued to murmur softly to Hera, hoping her voice did not reveal her terror. She had always shared a special relationship with the horses and they were extremely perceptive to her moods. In the years she had been helping her father breed and raise the horses, Nicki could not remember any of the animals having more than a scrape or two. Never had she faced a life threatening illness. Even the birthings had gone smoothly.

Nicki chastised herself for not studying some sort of medicine related to the treatment of horses. Her lack of foresight might cost her Hera.

Nicki got to her feet when Blake returned with the bay he had ridden that morning. He left the horse outside and entered the stall with an object in his hand. “Now, my dear, you are going to climb up onto that beam. Then I want you to take this hatchet and chop out a vee-shaped chunk.”

She looked up at the thick timber high overhead. “Did you happen to bring a ladder with you?”

He grinned. “Just a strong back. Place your foot in my hand and I will hoist you up. Step on my shoulders if you must.”

“As long as you promise not to drop me.”

“Heaven forbid!”

Tentatively, Nicki placed her boot in Blake's intertwined hands. He lifted her easily, holding her until she pulled herself up and straddled the beam. Splinters lodged in her injured hands, but she managed to hold on, hatchet and all.

Ignoring the sting of her wounds, she looked down to where Blake stood watching her. “Chop here?”

He nodded. “But please, my dear, do not chop all the way through.”

The wood resisted her first few attempts, but the more pieces she chipped away the easier the cutting became. Sweat broke out on her brow and she wiped it away impatiently, intent on her project.

When she had cut out an indentation approximately two inches deep, she glanced down. Blake had completed his task and observed her movements. “Done.”

“Excellent. I am going to throw this rope up to you. I want you run it across the cut and toss it back to me.”

Nicki did as instructed. She noted Blake had secured the blanket sling around Hera, with the ropes tied together over her back. He had then run a single rope through those. It was that rope that Nicki looped over the beam.

“What now?”

“Can you reach the handle of this bucket?” He held it up for her. “Good. I am going to have Banbury pull. You need to pour water over the rope to keep it from becoming hot and breaking.”

“I can do that.”

He nodded abruptly, his thoughts obviously focused on his next task.

From her vantage point, Nicki watched as Blake went to the tack room and returned with several worn saddle blankets. He urged his horse backward toward the stall before running the rope up over the bay's back. Blankets were placed to protect Banbury's chest from the ropes. Finally, he fastened the ends at the front of the saddle.

At a look from Blake, Nicki nodded and scooped water from the bucket into her hands to let it trickle down over the ropes. Blake urged Banbury forward. The rope jerked taut and moved several inches. Nicki doused the new portion of rope as it moved again.

The procedure dragged on, but Hera's body was gradually raised from the stall floor. Nicki gave a cheer as Hera put her feet down and stood on her own. Blake took advantage of the mare's momentary strength and entered the stall to take hold of the several ends of rope lying across Hera's back. He threw two up to Nicki. She ran them over the beam a foot or so apart and dropped them back down to Blake. He tied off the ends swiftly.

“That should hold her. You can come down now.”

Nicki eyed the drop skeptically. “Perhaps I will climb over . . . ”

Blake grinned. “While you think about your course of action, I need to finish up.”

“Of course. I promise not to go anywhere.”

He went to Banbury and worked the ropes loose. Nicki watched with fascination as he was careful to keep the rope taut while he moved to the slatted outer wall. A muscle ticked along his jaw as he tied the rope off on the largest timber running vertically, using the horizontal boards as a catch. When he reentered the stall, Hera whickered softly in welcome. He stroked her neck to sooth her, then glanced up at Nicki.

Blushing deeply, Nicki realized she had not given a single thought to her descent, but instead had watched the earl's every movement.

“If you slip over the beam, you can put your feet on my shoulders, then ease your way down until I can lift you to the ground. But hand me that bucket first.”

She took the handle of the pail and leaned down as far as she could. Blake's height and long arms took over from there. He set the almost empty bucket aside and returned his attention to Nicki. Still hesitant, she spotted the hatchet and tossed it into the next stall. Now there was nothing left to do but get down. If she fell . . . well, she hoped she would not land on Hera.

She had climbed up the sides of houses, for goodness sake! It was just that . . . she was suspended over Blake's head, and in a skirt no less. Not that he had not had a perfect view of her legs while she straddled the beam. This thought stiffened her upper lip. The damage had been done and she had not been any the wiser while it was occurring.