Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(274)

Suddenly George stopped his pacing and came to them. “If a man’s to go far with a captive, he would have to have horses, and the only ones about are down at the barn.”

He reached for his rifle as did Pitney, but as the other men were stirring into action, the front door was already swinging shut behind Ruark. They all seized weapons and raced after him, leaving the women to console themselves, Ralston standing undecidedly, and Orlan Trahern fuming in his chair. Finally the squire heaved himself up and braced on his staff.

“Aarrgh,” he snarled. “If you think I’ll sit here with the womenfolk, you’re daft!” He took a step with his crutch and another, and then, hurling the blackthorn staff flat upon the floor, he went after the rest, ignoring his bandaged foot.

George Beauchamp arrived at the barn in time to hear his son tersely questioning the sergeant.

“Horses, man! Who has taken horses today?”

“Only Sir Gaylord, sir,” the sergeant answered, bewildered. “He came down shortly before midday and ordered a horse to be saddled. He’d been out all morning and wanted a fresh mount. Saddled it meself, I did. Then he took the little roan mare, too, the one with the scars on her legs. Said he might need to tote some stuff.” The sergeant paused then added a bit defensively, “Said he had the master’s permission.”

“It’s all right, sergeant,” George assured the worried man.

It was the sudden sharp whinny and thud of hooves behind them that made the men turn. Attila pawed at the boards of a stall with his hooves then whirled and stamped and snorted.

George jerked his thumb at the beast and asked of the sergeant, “What’s the matter with him?”

“Can’t rightly say,” the sergeant shrugged. “He started fretting when Sir Gaylord came and got hotter when the man took the mare out.”

George raised a brow at Ruark, and their eyes locked in silent exchange for a moment. Ruark nodded and ran to push the barn doors wide, while his father went to the stall and motioned the rest of the men aside, out of the way. George loosed the latch and swung the gate wide. Attila snorted and came out, his hooves ringing on the bare stone floor. He tossed his head, saw the open doors, and turned toward them instantly. Before he could gather speed, Ruark seized a handful of the thick gray mane and swung himself up onto the broad back. Attila skidded to a halt and started to prance angrily until Ruark clamped down with his knees and gave a sharp whistle. The horse then knew his rider and, sensing they were about the same mission, leaped for the doors. Behind them, Nathanial and the major began shouting orders.

Attila rounded the manor house and in an easy bound, cleared the gate beside the burned stable. Ruark let him have his head and only clung to his back, giving no guidance. They entered the copse of trees, and the gray skidded to a halt in the clearing. He paused but a moment, tossing his head, sampling the air, then was off again in a rush of hooves. They crashed through the brush and were out in the pasture, running like the wind. The smell of Gaylord was hot in Attila’s nostrils, but more than that, the scent of the mare. They were both somewhere ahead. The air was cool and bracing. The stallion settled into an easy run, not straining but stretching out with each stride until his hooves barely seemed to touch the sod. The tall oaks flew by in a brownish blur, and now they were on the trail. As Ruark saw the way, he began to guide the beast, and the two of them were as one, bent on a single purpose.



Gaylord chafed as he glanced back toward Shanna. Her sureness and composure were disquieting. He had a need to see her subdued, if only by fear. He dropped back beside her again, and the horses’ pace slowed to a walk.

“Even a fool knows when he has met his master,” he began.

“And you, sir,”—her reply came with that same calm smile—“have at last met yours.” Shanna felt the weight of the small dagger against her leg. She dared not try to get it now. There would come a time, she assured herself silently. Forcing herself to relax, she stared straight ahead, afraid that some of her self-control might crumble.

Gaylord tried to reason with her. “I am not a cruel man, madam, and you are most beautiful. A small amount of grace upon your part might prompt me to find mercy in my heart. I but wish to share a moment of pleasure with you.”

“My pleasure, sir,” her soft voice mocked, “would be to never set eyes on you again.”

The bitch! How could she deny him so?

“You are helpless!” he shouted and raised in the stirrups to his full height. “You are in my power, and I will do what I want with you!”

Shanna hid the shudder that went through her and laughed scornfully. “Sir? In a damp forest? You’ll muss your clothes.”