The road to Harwich was unfamiliar and not as well traveled as many in England, but Graelem had drawn up a rough map with excellent guide markers. Daisy picked up speed at daybreak, the beast’s hooves barely touching the ground as they galloped northward then east along the river that marked the final leg of her journey. She’d lost sight of Major Brandt at least an hour ago, but knew he’d catch up to her eventually at the inn.
Gabriel would be furious that she’d braved the final leg of the journey entirely on her own, but he’d understand the necessity once he calmed. In any event, she was too cold and wet from this morning’s sudden rain shower to concern herself with his response. What mattered was reaching the Three Cups Inn before his ship sailed.
Daisy was exhausted and about ready to tumble out of her saddle by the time she entered the quiet town of Harwich and guided Brutus toward the docks. It was still too early for most decent people to be about. Those who were awake at this hour were scoundrels who had been drinking all night and were up to no good.
“Now, that’s a nasty-looking fellow,” she murmured to Brutus, avoiding the stare of one particularly unpleasant character. She tightened her grip on the riding crop, clenching it in her fist to use as protection if the need arose.
She had never used the crop on Brutus and never would. But she had purposely brought it along for protection against unsavory characters skulking in dark alleys, men like the blackguard she had just passed.
“Blast it, I think he’s following us.” She quickly moved on, daring to breathe a sigh of relief as she turned the corner and spotted a ship’s mast, sails unfurled in the near distance. She had to be near the inn.
“Please, let it be Gabriel’s ship,” she murmured and received a corresponding nod from Brutus.
“Where’d ye get that fine horse, lad?” a gap-toothed man sporting a tattoo on his arm and a sharp knife in his hand called out.
“None of yer business,” she called back, lowering the cap over her eyes and hoping neither her voice nor her face would give away her disguise. He’d mistaken her for a boy, for she sat astride Brutus and not sidesaddle as a proper female ought to. Riding sidesaddle would have been a ridiculous and dangerous way to travel the extended distance.
Daisy’s hands, which might have given her away, were hidden beneath a pair of worn leather gloves and her hair was still braided and securely pinned beneath the cap. Her baggy clothes, she fervently prayed, hid her tell-tale feminine curves.
“Give me that horse, ye peach-faced son of a whore.”
Several men now stepped out of the shadows, each more hideous looking than the next. Too late, Daisy realized she’d made a wrong turn and unwittingly entered a most dangerous alley. She whirled Brutus about, attempting to head back to the main street, but the men quickly surrounded her and tried to block her path.
She fought them off with her riding crop, striking one across the cheek and drawing blood. He let out an oath and came at her again. Brutus kicked out with his massive hooves. Men yelped and cursed, and ultimately cleared a path for the devil of a horse. She and Brutus had just cleared the last assailant when Daisy felt a sudden sharp pain at her thigh.
She didn’t stop to look, knowing there would be time to tend to the wound after she found Gabriel.
At last she saw the inn, recognizing it by its sign—three cups painted over the weathered doorway lintel—and rode behind the rough stone structure into its stable.
“Ye’re bleedin’!” the stableboy cried, his eyes popping wide at the sight of blood trailing down her trousers. “Stay put and I’ll get ye help.”
“No! I need to see Lord Dayne. Is he still here?”
“Yes, he’s—”
“Thank goodness! Take me to him right away.” She slid off Brutus, then let out a yowl as she landed on her injured leg.
“Lud, that must hurt! I’ll fetch clean cloths and some water.”
“No! Take me to Lord Dayne at once,” she insisted, though both her legs were aching from the hard ride and about to give way beneath her. Her left leg felt as if it were on fire.
“But there’s no—”
“Don’t argue with me!” She rested her weight on a bale of hay, leaning on it for support, and reached out to grab the stubborn boy, her intention to throttle him into obedience.
“But I can’t take you to him!”
“Why ever not?” Her head began to spin and a soft but persistent ringing started in her ears. Her vision began to blur. The lad now sported two heads and both were spinning.
“Because he’s right here,” Gabriel said, jumping down from the hayloft and stalking to her side. “Of all the bloody... foolish... stupid... you’d better have a damn good explanation for why you’re here—good Lord! Daisy, you’re hurt!”