First Season / Bride to Be

by Jane Ashford

  He surveyed the dim scene. The gully widened and flattened, offering less cover. The moon was descending; soon their light would be gone. It was time to go to ground.

  He held out his hand. Emily took it without hesitation, her fingers small and cold. Yes, he thought, she would have fought at his side through the jungle. She would keep going without complaint until she dropped of fatigue. He squeezed her hand in reassurance. She smiled up at him, and his heart faltered momentarily before beating faster. He let go.

  Taking advantage of the slanting rays of the moon, he picked a way across the stony incline that caused the waterfall. It steepened ahead, suggesting the possibility of caves, which riddled this countryside. The moon had nearly set before he found one, and it was a shallow cup above head height in the rocky wall. Not ideal, Richard thought, but it was going to have to do. Deep darkness was just ahead and Emily must be exhausted.

  Reaching up, he hooked his hands over the rim of the cave. He groped for a foothold in the cliff and heaved himself up. The depression was scarcely ten feet deep, he saw then. But it was dry, and there were no signs of animal inhabitants. Also, it faced west. Sunrise would not reveal its recesses to the world. He knelt at the edge and held out his hands for Emily’s, half pulling, half balancing her as she made her way up. “We’ll stay here till dawn,” he murmured.

  She nodded and sank down inside the cave, her shoulders drooping and her head down. After a few moments, she tugged at one of her wet boots.

  “Let me.” He knelt and pulled off first one, then the other. “We should try to get your stockings dry, at least,” he said very softly.

  Emily half turned away from him, embarrassed he thought, and reached under her skirts to unfasten the stockings. She slipped them off quickly, shivering a little at the night air on her bare feet.

  Richard took the cloth torn from her skirt out of his pocket and began to dry her feet. With a small sound of protest, she pulled the cloth away and did it herself. He picked up the wet stockings and hung them over a projecting bit of stone, knowing that they wouldn’t actually dry by daylight.

  “Shall I help you with your boots?” she murmured.

  Wild laughter bubbled up in Richard’s chest, almost impossible to choke back. She had sounded so matter-of-fact—as if they often removed each other’s boots in the dead of night, in the back of beyond while men stalked them with murder on their minds.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” he managed. He pulled off his boots and stockings, hanging them next to hers. He took the piece of cloth and dried his feet. She had tucked hers under her skirts, he saw, rather envying the source of warmth.

  “What will we do in the morning?” she asked quietly.

  “Figure out where we are, and head for the nearest house or village, someplace with enough people to make an attack impossible. My cousin’s house, by choice.”

  “We’re lost now, aren’t we?”

  “In the dark, yes. But by daylight, I can get my bearings.” The problem was, it was several miles to any safe place, and their pursuers would certainly be mounted. “See if you can sleep a little.”

  “Are you going to sleep?”

  “I’ll keep watch. I’m used to it.”

  She was silent. After a little while, she leaned back against the wall of the cave and appeared to relax.

  Richard watched the slope below and listened. The moon was gone now, and there was little to see. But he could hear night sounds. He could test the breeze for scents. There was no danger on the wind just now. He thought Emily had dropped off, and was fighting his own drowsiness, when she suddenly spoke very softly.

  “When you were first lost in South America, were you frightened?”

  He turned toward her voice, but he couldn’t see her in the dark. Briefly, he debated his answer. He didn’t want to make her feel any worse. But he couldn’t offer Emily anything but the truth. “Terrified,” he replied. “The closest I’d ever been to wilderness was a foxhunt.”

  She gave a little spurt of laughter, quickly stifled.

  “I’d never even been in at the kill,” he added, remembering the old Richard with something near disbelief. That man had receded so far that he seemed even less than a memory.

  “Were you wet?”

  The question made him smile. “Soaked in salt water and cursing my fate. I spent most of a year wet. In the jungle, it rained every few hours.” He heard her small shiver. “It was hot, though, so one didn’t mind as much. Are you cold?”

  “A little.”

  They seemed doomed to huddle together outside the confines of civilization, Richard thought wryly. First a shed full of hay, and now this. They were coming down in the world. He didn’t know how he would bear being so close to her, but he couldn’t let her shiver alone. Shifting, he slid an arm around her and pulled her to his side.

  Emily nestled in as if she had done so a thousand times. Despite the rough surroundings, and their peril, Richard’s body began to demand things he had no intention of giving it. He could control himself, he insisted.

  Emily’s head burrowed into his shoulder. He could feel the curve of her breast like soft flame on his ribs. She trusted him, he thought, with her honor, with her life.

  The mixture of fear for her, self-doubt, and determination that Richard felt then was more intense than any emotion he had ever suffered. He wanted more than anything to deserve that confidence. The thought of failure was intolerable. Failure meant that Emily Crane would disappear from the face of the earth.

  She stirred a bit, like a cat getting comfortable. Her breathing grew more regular. She had fallen asleep in his arms. She had given herself up completely to his vigilance.

  The determination strengthened, filling his consciousness, steeling him against the voice of doubt. He would see her safe. He would do whatever that required. And any man who stood in his way…would regret it to the end of his days, which might be brief indeed.

  Emily sighed in her sleep. She turned, and her arm fell across his chest. He wanted her, Richard thought. He had never wanted anything half so much. But that was irrelevant. He could keep his desires in check. His right hand, resting on the cave’s stone floor, clenched.

  At least sleep was out of the question, he thought sometime later. The unceasing demands of his body were keeping him wide awake on his watch. He dared a feather touch on Emily’s hair. But the result was enflaming rather than soothing, and he stopped at once. He must think about tomorrow, plan their moves. He wouldn’t rescue her by sheer desperate longing.

  With a massive effort of will, Richard shifted his attention to the future, and ways they might evade their attackers and find their way out of the wilderness.

  * * *

  Dawn arrived by imperceptible stages, a slow diffusion of pearly light. Mist pooled in low places and drifted in veils among the crags. It would hamper their attackers, Richard thought, but it was a disadvantage for them as well. It would be much harder to get their bearings or travel in a consistent direction. Sound would be deceptive too, difficult to pinpoint.

  Emily woke. After a moment’s disorientation, she smiled at him in a way that made his pulse jump. Part of him wished fiercely that she had never come here from London, but another part exulted in her presence by his side. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

  The smile turned rueful. “I’m hungry.”

  “I’m afraid the servants have neglected to set out breakfast.”

  “How careless of them.” She reached up and took her stockings from the stone, wrinkling her nose as she felt them. “Still damp. But I suppose it is only what one should expect when one is being chased by murderers.”

  Richard smiled. “It doesn’t lend itself to luxuries.” He watched her check her boots. “Are you ever afraid?”

  Her azure eyes met his directly. “I’m terrified right now. But I’
ve found it doesn’t help in the least to give way to emotion on these occasions.”

  “Having been so often chased by murderers?”

  “They were usually after Papa,” she admitted. “But it’s hard to tell the difference when you’re small. Perhaps there isn’t any.”

  Some weeks ago, he might have laughed at this. This morning, he couldn’t. Indeed, he felt an unaccustomed tightness in his throat.

  “Not that most of them would have actually murdered him,” Emily added softly. “Well, maybe one or two.”

  “You haven’t deserved the life you’ve had. You should be given every luxury. You should be cared for and cosseted, and never have to worry.”

  Emily didn’t seem to know what to say. Her cheeks flushed, and she gave him a doubtful look. “I’d settle for a cup of hot coffee,” she replied finally.

  Richard called himself to order. Turning away, he put on his stockings and boots and let himself down from the cave into the mist below. It swirled about his shoulders, completely obscuring the ground. “We’ll have to get above this,” he muttered.

  “What?” Emily’s head appeared in the opening.

  He gestured for silence, then helped her down. Keeping a hand on the cliff face, Richard moved away from the sound of the waterfall.

  It was rough going at first. They couldn’t see their feet, or obstacles that tripped them up. But finally the ground began to rise and the mist to recede. Richard judged that they had been walking about an hour when they reached the top of a ridge and looked out over a sea of fog broken by similar heights. Very conscious of their exposure, he led her down a little, until they were mostly hidden, and then went over his sketchy mental map of the area.

  “Do you know where we are?” whispered Emily.

  “We left the house going east,” he told her softly. “The stream flowed northeast. We are still on my land, I believe. My cousin’s estate borders it on the north, so that is the direction we want. The difficulty will be keeping to it in this weather.”

  “How far?”

  “Six or seven miles.” In a straight line, he added to himself; not taking into account the mountainous nature of the country.

  “That isn’t far.” She attempted a cheerful smile. “And it will be hard for them to find us in the mist.”

  “As long as we’re quiet.”

  They set off at the best pace they could manage and were soon struggling down slopes into narrow ravines and up the opposite sides. Now and then, one of them would send a stone rattling into the depths, making him wince. His only consolation was that their pursuers would have the same problem. At intervals, he stopped and listened intently, but the morning passed without any sign.

  Around noon, the fog began to dissipate. Richard left Emily resting beside a trickle of water and climbed up to reconnoiter. He didn’t stand on the peak this time, but crouched among some boulders to take bearings.

  He could see the country spread out now, mist covering only the lowest places. Some of the hills would be landmarks to a native, but they told him next to nothing. All they could do was continue going north. When he judged that they had gone far enough, he would cast about for the Farrells’ house. He made his way carefully back down. But when he reached the place where he had left Emily, it was empty.

  Richard had to bite back a cry. His first instinct was race down the ravine shouting her name. It took him a long moment to control it, and to quell the panic surging up inside. Clenching his fists, he mastered his fear.

  He knelt, searching the ground. It was stony and showed no footprints. However, the vegetation wasn’t disturbed. There was no sign of a struggle. Nor was there evidence that anyone had forced his way through the bushes upstream. Setting his jaw, he walked down, all his senses straining.

  He found her barely ten yards away. A curve of rock had hidden her, and she was standing still, making no sound. She turned as he approached and started to speak. “Look at this…”

  Richard grabbed her upper arms and shook her. “Don’t ever move from the place where I’ve left you,” he hissed.

  She blinked, startled. “I only…”

  “And keep your voice down!”

  Emily took a breath, her eyes wide on his. “I only went a few steps,” she whispered.

  He couldn’t help shaking her again. “You are to stay exactly where I put you.”

  “But it was…”

  He started urging her upstream. “I chose a spot sheltered by an overhang and concealed by bushes. If I had been taken above, you might have stayed hidden.”

  Emily looked uneasy. She struggled in his grasp. “I’m sorry. But I noticed this odd…”

  “It doesn’t matter what you noticed.”

  She jerked away from him and took a step back. “My observations are worthless?”

  Richard’s anger was ebbing now that he knew she was safe. “No. But you shouldn’t go off alone. If we were separated, I couldn’t protect you…”

  The stubborn look didn’t entirely fade from her face, but it moderated. “All right. The next time I will wait until you come back.”

  He nodded. His pulse had returned to normal. “We should move on.”

  “Look at this first.” She led him back a bit and pointed to the wall of the ravine.

  Richard looked, frowned, and moved closer. Reaching up, he broke off a loose piece and rubbed it in his hand.

  “Isn’t that coal?” Emily asked. Her reading had not been entirely in vain.

  “It certainly looks like it.”

  “It gets wider as it goes down the hill.” She pointed to the broadening seam of dark rock.

  He walked a little way, seeing that she was right. Farther along, most of the cliff face was black—here, on his own land. He reached up again to verify the evidence of his eyes. Coal was the lifeblood of the inventions that so fascinated him.

  “Do you…?”

  A clatter of stones sounded in the distance, followed by the whinny of a frightened horse. All of Richard’s faculties focused in an instant, calculating the direction of the noise, the terrain, the nearness of the threat. Demanding silence with a savage gesture, he scanned the stony ground. They had left no sign.

  He moved quickly downstream, drawing Emily along with him. A man called out, too far away for Richard to catch the words. Using every ounce of skill he had gained as a castaway, Richard guided Emily north.

  Eighteen

  Emily tripped over a scatter of rocks and staggered. Richard caught her arm and urged her on. They had been moving fast and quietly down a series of gullies for what seemed like hours. There had been no further sounds behind them. They didn’t even know if the one they’d heard was their attackers, Emily thought. But they couldn’t afford to assume it wasn’t. She was coming to the end of her strength, but didn’t dare ask that they rest.

  She watched Richard moving ahead of her like a wild creature. In the last few hours something about him had changed.

  He turned to check on her. His hazel eyes seemed exultant as well as intent, lit with a kind of triumphant determination. He frightened her a little. Since they had fled his house together, his presence had seemed to guarantee safety. Until now.

  “We must keep going,” he said.

  When Emily nodded, he took off again with the loping stride that looked so effortless and was so hard to match. Emily followed as best she could. The sun was past noon, and the air had grown unseasonably warm as the last of the mist burned away. She had taken off the snug jacket of her riding habit, but even carrying it over her arm, she was hot. Her blouse clung to her back, and her still-damp boots were a penance.

  Up ahead, Richard had stopped. He was listening again, she saw. She heard nothing but natural sounds—birds, the rustle of leaves. By the time she reached him, he was moving again. It had been that way all day. He drew ahead, waited for her to catch up,
and then set off again, having had a rest, Emily thought resentfully, while she never got a moment’s respite. A trickle of sweat ran down her neck. It was as if some other personality had taken over in him.

  She stumbled again, this time knocking two rocks together with a sharp crack. Richard whirled, crouched for battle. His eyes took in every shadow. His lips were drawn back in something very like a snarl. Emily went dead still. For a moment, she was convinced that some terror menaced her from behind.

  He straightened slowly, then he came back to where she stood. “I…I kicked a stone,” she admitted as he loomed over her.

  He bent toward her. Emily swallowed. But it was the old familiar Richard who said, “You’re tired, I know. I’m searching for a place where we can rest.” He gestured at the open valley around them. “This is too exposed.”

  “I’ll be more careful.” She got a glimpse of compassion in his face before he moved off again.

  Emily trudged on, watching where she put her feet and taking particular care around stones. The sun started down the western sky. The emptiness in her midsection made her a bit dizzy. She had never been so hungry in her life.

  At last, she had to stop. She would sit for just a few minutes. She looked ahead for Richard, to signal her intention, and saw nothing but empty landscape.

  She rubbed her eyes. The valley was narrowing. There were walls of stone on either side, a few trees and brush ahead. But it wasn’t so thick that she couldn’t see clearly to the end of the declivity. Richard was gone!

  Emily’s heart began to pound. Her mouth went dry, and her legs trembled. She hadn’t known what fear really was until now, she realized. Richard’s presence had been sustaining her in ways she hadn’t begun to understand.

  How could she have lost him? She turned in a circle. There were no side trails. He couldn’t have turned off without her noticing. Had he fallen? Was he hurt? Frantically, she ran forward, glancing left and right, watching for a hidden obstacle, something he might have fallen into or behind. There was nothing. Had he been captured? Were their pursuers waiting to pick her off as well?