Heart of the Diamond

by Carrie Brock

  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.

  Nicki swung her leg over the timber and used her elbows to brace herself. She felt Blake touch her calves. With a deep breath, she lowered herself slowly until her feet touched his shoulders. Still holding on to the beam, she looked down. The earl's head had become enveloped in her dusty skirts. If she fell, or jumped she would likely break his neck. Devil take it.

  “Blake, can you step to your right, towards the wall? I can hang on to that and you can release my . . . you can release me and get my skirts away from your . . . face.”

  A muffled reply sounded, but he did as she suggested. She grabbed the top of the wall and Blake reached up to lift her skirts off his head. She grinned down at him, noting the ruddiness of his cheeks.

  “Light as you are, I would prefer to continue this intimacy in much more romantic surroundings. Would you kindly ease yourself down?”

  She nodded wordlessly. In an instant she was on the ground. “There! That was not so bad.”

  He jammed his fingers through his tousled raven hair, but a lock slipped onto his brow. “It was a rare treat, to be certain.”

  Nicki gave him a small smile. “Hera is getting jealous. You had best not pay me too much attention when she is near.”

  Glancing at the horse, Blake laughed. Hera watched them steadily with an expression that could only be described as offended. “Do not worry your pretty head, my girl. There is plenty of me to go around.”

  As Blake gently lifted Hera's eyelids, then checked her nostrils, Nicki mulled over his words. Plenty of him to go around? Somehow she did not like that thought by half. As long as he meant only horses, she supposed she could accept that.

  “How is she?”

  Blake opened Hera's mouth and the mare jerked her head away impatiently. “She seems better. Let us see if she will take some water. It would be the best thing for her.”

  Nicki retrieved the bucket and held it beneath Hera's muzzle, but the mare turned her head away, uninterested. “Perhaps if you offer it, my lord?”

  He arched a brow to express his doubt, but took the pail anyway. Hera nearly knocked it from his hands in her eagerness to drink. Nicki giggled at Blake's obvious surprise.

  “I do not believe I have ever had a female show me such devotion.”

  Joy swelled in Nicki's heart. “You had best accustom yourself, my lord. You shall have more than your fair share from this point forward.”

  Chapter 15

  . . .

  Blake sat against the rough boards of the wall, his arm across one bent knee, the other leg stretched out before him. He watched Nicole where she slept, curled up in the corner opposite him. Emotions swirled inside him—emotions he had thought long lost to him. She murmured softly, a frown furrowed her brow.

  So she had secrets. Thinking of her words the night before, he found it difficult to believe someone so pure of heart could possess anything but light and goodness in their soul. He could not recall ever knowing anyone like Nicole before.

  With every look, she made him feel special, worthy of being loved. He would have to beware of the emotions she evoked. She put such trust in him that with every ounce of his being he longed to earn that regard. But he could not allow her to distract him from his purpose.

  Hera whickered softly. Blake got up and went to her. She had taken some grain about an hour earlier. After a long day of careful tending, she seemed to be well on the road to recovery. Perhaps now Nicole would feel comfortable leaving her.

  Footfalls sounded on the wooden floor and Blake stiffened. When Angelica appeared at the opening of the stall carrying a basket, he relaxed only slightly. She held a lantern and, seeing Nicole asleep, lowered it to the floor outside.

  Her gaze focused on Blake as she spoke in a quiet tone. “I thought the two of you might be hungry. You missed two meals, after all.”

  Blake accepted the basket with a nod. “She refused to go and I could not leave her on the chance something might happen.”

  “She does love the horses. Since she was a young child she has constantly slipped away to hide out wherever they are.”

  “It is very late. You could have sent a servant.”

  Angelica watched Nicole, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “I wanted to check on her myself.”

  “She refused to give up hope. I honestly thought the horse would die, but I had to try—for her sake.”

  In the darkness, Blake had the strangest sense of familiarity as Angelica looked up at him. It was like seeing a gossamer vision of Nicole. She smiled and the image shattered. “I see she has pulled you in as well. We have all been the beneficiaries of Nicole's unflagging willpower.”

  “You speak of her as if she were a force of nature, not a young woman.”

  “Do I? Perhaps that is the way I see her. I have tried so very hard to give her some sense of stability. She fights me at every turn.”<
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  Blake glanced at Nicole. She slept on, oblivious to her surroundings. “You are a forceful woman yourself. Perhaps you threaten her.”

  “No matter. I would be content to see her happy. If you will allow it, she could find that happiness with you.”

  He set the basket aside. “I will make a home for her, but I will not promise more.”

  Angelica moved to lean wearily against the wall Blake had recently abandoned. “Will you spend the rest of your life beating yourself against a wall of revenge?”

  He met her gaze squarely. “That is none of your business.”

  Her lips twitched slightly. “Perhaps not. But I see what you are doing, even if Jonathon chooses not to. He believes you will forget the past. He cannot imagine anyone carrying such hatred in their heart that they would destroy a young woman—and anything or anyone else just for the sake of vengeance.”

  “Would you behave any differently?”

  “I have, Lord Diamond. Once everything I held dear was stripped from me. I thought I would never feel anything but agony and despair. I was wrong. Life goes on. You can dwell in the past and torture yourself every waking moment, or you can go on. I chose to go on—and eventually all that I had lost was returned to me.”

  Blake concentrated on a sliver embedded in his forefinger. “What I have lost can never be replaced. My father died alone because I could not be here with him.” He fastened his stare on her. “He died before I could tell him I was sorry—tell him the truth. Now—I can never tell him.”

  “He knows, Blake. You were his son.”

  He could not fathom the reason he had revealed so much. He owed this woman no explanations. “You said it exactly. I was his son. I will never see him again in this lifetime because of a foolish weakness on my part. Now you ask me to show the same weakness and forget all that was done to me. I will not. I cannot.”

  A rustle of straw behind him alerted him that Nicole had awakened. He turned, the harshness in him subsiding of its own accord at the sight of her. She smiled sleepily. So damn trusting.