Leave here. Hurry.
With a start, Erik glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Dominique standing behind him, so clearly had he heard her voice. But there was no one there.
Filled with a sense of urgency, he left the house and headed for the stable. Ten minutes later both horses were saddled and he was at the back door.
“Kristine?”
“Here I am.” She stepped out of the kitchen, a basket and a heavy cloak on one arm. “Here.” She thrust a pile of clothing at him. “Hurry.”
She felt it, too, he thought as he dressed, the need to be gone from this place as soon as possible. He wondered briefly whose clothing he was wearing and what had happened to the former owner.
When he finished dressing, he draped the heavy cloak over Kristine’s shoulders; then they hurried toward the horses. Erik lifted Kristine onto Misty’s back, stuffed the contents of the basket into the saddlebags, and tossed the basket away.
Taking up Raven’s reins, he swung onto the stallion’s back and led the way out of the yard.
He didn’t look back.
Chapter Twenty-One
They rode as fast as they dared down the narrow, winding trail. Kristine let the mare have her head, knowing Misty didn’t need her hand on the reins to follow Erik’s big black stallion. Tears blinded her eyes. She had killed Charmion. It didn’t matter that the woman had been a witch, or that she had planned to take Erik’s child, or that she had probably planned to kill Kristine, herself, once the babe was born. She hadn’t wanted to kill Charmion, and yet, at the time, it had seemed there was no other choice. She couldn’t have left Erik in that awful dungeon, couldn’t have left him there knowing what the witch had in store for him.
A shiver raced down Kristine’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold. She had never been given to violence, yet she had killed twice. No matter that the first time had been to defend her honor, the second time to defend Erik and her unborn babe. Murder was a sin, and the guilt of it weighed heavily on her conscience.
She lifted her gaze to Erik’s back. The dreadful curse had almost fully consumed him. Only the right half of his face, neck, and hand remained human. The rest of his body more closely resembled that of a man-sized wolf. And soon, too soon, the transformation would be complete and he would be lost to her forever.
What would happen to him then? What would he do? Where would he go? Would he stay with her at Hawksbridge Castle, condemned to live as a beast for the rest of his days? How would he bear it? How would she? And if he left . . . How would she go on, never knowing where he was, always wondering if he was dead or alive?
She wanted to scream out her anguish, to rail at fate, to curse Charmion for her wickedness. Sin or not, she was suddenly glad she had killed the witch.
Blinded by her tears, she almost pitched forward over Misty’s neck when the mare came to an abrupt halt. Snorting softly, Misty danced sideways. It was then that Kristine saw the wolves. Four of them. Three sleek black ones and a large gray one. They stood side by side across the foot of the trail, blocking their passage. Fear slid down her spine. Were they Charmion’s pets, put there to prevent their escape?
“Erik?” She gathered Misty’s reins. “Erik?”
“It’s all right, Kristine,” he said reassuringly.
“What do you mean?” she asked, and then stared, mouth open, as one of the black wolves transformed into a beautiful young woman with luminous brown eyes. Thick, waist-length black hair fell down her back and over her bare breasts.
Feeling suddenly light-headed, Kristine clutched the reins. A gasp escaped her lips. Darkness gathered around her. “Erik . . .”
He glanced over his shoulder, then vaulted from the saddle and ran to Misty’s side. He caught Kristine as she toppled from the mare’s back.
Valaree came to stand beside him. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fainted.”
Valaree smiled. “I didn’t mean to frighten her.”
“It’s not just you. She’s been through a rather bad time in the last few weeks.” He stared down at Kristine’s pale face. “She killed Charmion.”
“The sorceress is dead?” Valaree exclaimed. Her gaze ran over Erik, her brows drawing together in a frown. “But the curse is not broken.”
“No,” he replied heavily. “I fear there is no way to break it now.”
“I know of a powerful mage who lives on the far side of the River Onyx. Perhaps he can help you.”
With a shake of his head, Erik muttered, “I doubt it.” His arms tightened around Kristine. “But I’m willing to try.”
He glanced down at Kristine as she stirred in his arms. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open. “What happened?”