The Passionate One (20 page)

A thought niggled
at Ash, impressions, chance phrases. He sifted through them, scowling in
concentration. Phillip. Handsome, athletic Phillip. Always surrounded by his
boon companions. Gruffly boastful of his romantic conquests. Yet in the month
since his arrival not once had they sought out women of easy virtue. No one had
even suggested it.

If Phillip had not
wanted a bride... if there was in him something that resisted yet could not be
voiced... if he feared a wife might expose something he wanted left alone—

Ash shook his head.
He was being overly imaginative. These incidents were just what they seemed.
Still, the hunt setting with everyone tearing off would present a prime
opportunity to manufacture yet another “accident.”

He touched his
heels to the gelding’s side and loped off in the direction of the disappearing
hunters.

Rhiannon’s heart
was not in the hunt. Always before when she’d needed to escape, the hunt
offered her the opportunity.

Not today. She
reined her horse at the edge of a thick copse of hemlock and watched the others
hurdle down the steep embankment after the pack of trumpeting hounds. Absently,
she looked for Stella’s rangy form and when she could not find her, she smiled
wanly.

The dog was a
disaster. She’d rather chase squirrels then add her voice to those of her
littermates. Three times already today Rhiannon had had to call her from her
own doggy pursuits and lead her back to the pack. It was becoming increasingly
obvious that no amount of cajoling or scolding was going to turn Stella into a
decent gazehound.

Rhiannon nudged her
mount forward, riding along the fringe of the woods, listening for the telltale
sounds of a dog playing.

The minutes ticked
by, becoming half an hour and then an hour. Rhiannon began to grow concerned.
The other hunters had long since disappeared from view and the sun’s rays
slanted across the long forms of oak and larch. Soon it would be dark and
Stella would be lost.

Rhiannon lifted
herself in the saddle, calling out and listening. Nothing. She turned the horse
back and retraced her route, certain now that Stella had gone east rather than
west as she’d assumed. Her raised voice sharpened with fear when she heard a
sudden high-pitched howl.

She moved toward
the sound, into a dense tangle of overgrown shrubbery that formed a wall along
the forest’s edge. She dug her heels into her mare’s flanks, but the horse
shied from entering.

Another yip
dissolved her caution. She set her whip against her mount’s rump and the
skittish horse gathered its haunches beneath it and plunged into the thicket.
Immediately vines and brambles caught and tore at Rhiannon’s hair and face. The
mare neighed in distress, jumping and lurching in fitful forward motion through
the net of bindweed clutching at her legs.

Rhiannon held her
arm up, warding off the worst of the nettles and barbs. Fifty yards, and then
seventy. Several slashes sliced through her skirts and sleeves. A new fear took
hold. Her horse could be blinded by such savage growth.

She reined in. The
mare thrashed her head back and forth, fighting the bit in her mouth,
frightened by the unseen enemies pulling at her legs. Rhiannon could no longer
hear Stella. She searched the area for easier egress. To her left and farther
in she made out a patch of light through a low, thin corridor: a deer trail.
She pulled her mount’s head around, crooning encouragement.

The horse blundered
onto the trail, her flanks twitching with excitement, her ears flat against her
head. Rhiannon raised herself in the stirrups to see where the trail led. A
rabbit darted from beneath the ferns, shooting across her horse’s path.

It was too much for
Rhiannon’s frenzied mount.

The mare bolted,
catching Rhiannon unawares and snatching the reins from her hands. Free, the
horse raced like a devil fleeing hell. Rhiannon threw herself flat along its
outstretched neck, snatching unsuccessfully for the reins streaming along its
withers.

Clots of black
earth spun from beneath the mare’s hooves. Green and gold, light and dark
passed by Rhiannon’s face in a stampeding blur. Without foothold or handhold,
her velvet habit became a slide. She skittered in the polished leather saddle.
One sharp turn, a sudden stop, and she would lose her grip. She buried her
fingers in the mane, crouched over the mare’s withers, and prayed.

A shout ahead. A
crash. The thunder of pursuing hooves. Her horse veered, hurtling her forward—

A strong arm
snatched her from the saddle. Her back slammed into a hard body, her hips
banged into a thigh. She twisted, clutching wildly. The arm around her yanked
her up and settled her between hard legs.

Ahead, her horse’s
low bunched hindquarters disappeared. The black-gloved hand before her drew
back on the reins of the horse. She slewed around to face her rescuer knowing,
certain, yes... Ash.

“I thought you were
supposed to be some sort of bleeding Diana!” he shouted angrily.

“What—”

“You! Everyone says
you ride like a centaur. I’ve seen better riders on a costermonger’s cart!”

“I lost my reins,”
she whispered, stunned by his anger.

“Lost your
reins
?
Damnation!” His arms tightened
around her. “The middle of a poacher’s trap is not the place to lose one’s
reins. Or didn’t your equestrian instructor teach you that?”

“Poacher’s trap?”

She blinked up at
him, confused and disoriented. Heat and power radiated from him, soaked through
his shirt, warming her, bracing her.

“Yes. Poacher’s
trap. The bloody deer run is ringed with razored barbs. If you had made it down
the chute—”

His eyes glittered
as he stared over her head. His voice was a dangerous thing. Beneath the
blue-black shadow of beard his jaw hardened.

“What the hell are
you doing out here, anyway?”

“Stella.” She
remembered suddenly. She pushed at his chest, scrambled to free herself of his
implacable grip. “Stella!”

A thready howl
answered her call.

“Please!” She
grasped his arms. Muscles bunched beneath her fingers. “Please. She’s hurt.
Can’t you hear?”

His gaze locked
with hers. Abruptly, he swung her to the ground, one hand still imprisoning her
wrists as he followed her.

“I’ll go. Wait
here. Hold the reins.
Keep
holding the reins.”

“Yes. Please. Thank
you—”

He’d already gone,
moving with catlike grace down the leaf-canopied trail and disappearing into
the flat disc of sunlight ahead.

The moments
extended in thick, heartbeat-accented measures, one after the other. A branch
snapped nearby and a covey of partridge flushed, air trembling beneath their
wings as they broke skyward. Rhiannon waited. A high-pitched yelp jerked her to
the end of the reins tethering her to Ash’s sweat-foamed horse.

“Ash!” His horse
snorted at the sharp tone and danced backward. “Ash!”

“Yes.”

She peered down the
trail and saw a dark masculine figure break from the light and stride forth,
carrying a huge animal in his arms. She knotted the reins to a sapling and flew
down the trail heedless of Ash’s barked order to stay.

She had almost reached
them when she saw the blood. It ringed the dog’s neck with a crimson collar and
streaked her hindquarters. One hind leg dangled awkwardly from Ash’s clasp.

“Stella,” she
whispered.

The dog lifted
pain-filled amber eyes and whined. Gingerly Rhiannon stroked the silky head and
worked cautious fingers through the sleek coat. Her fingers grew wet with
blood.

“What happened?”

“She was in the
middle of the trap. Couldn’t get out.”

“Will she be all
right?”

He didn’t meet her
eye. His own face was flushed, his eyes hot. “Her leg is broken.”

She spun around and
returned to the tied horse, calling over her shoulder. “We have to get her
back. Mrs. Fraiser can set the bone of any man or beast.”

Ash followed her.
“Mount up, Rhiannon. I’ll hand her up to you. Keep her still as possible.”

Rhiannon clambered
astride. The horse shifted but did not shy when Ash lifted Stella up onto
Rhiannon’s lap. The dog whimpered and Rhiannon whispered soft comforting words,
painfully aware of the dangling leg.

Without a word, Ash
took the reins and led the way back up the narrow path. They emerged at the far
end of the thicket, a good distance from where Rhiannon had entered. She looked
down at Stella. The dog panted shallowly, her eyes half-closed against the
pain. Blood stained Rhiannon’s skirts.

“How long will it
take to bring her to the Fraisers’?” she asked Ash.

“Two hours. Maybe
less. I don’t want to—”

“Hallo!”

At the sound both
Rhiannon and Ash looked up. A pony cart was jostling its way along the forest
track toward them. Phillip drove it, his splinted leg resting on the front
axle. “Hallo!”

“Thank God. We can
rest Stella on the seat beside him.” Rhiannon lifted her arm, waving wildly.
“Here! Phillip! Here!”

Ash remained
watchfully silent as Phillip pulled up beside them, his grin fading to an
expression of concern. “What is this?”

“Stella has broken
her leg and lost a great deal of blood. Oh, Phillip. You must drive her back to
Mrs. Fraiser’s.”

“Of course,”
Phillip said, shifting to the side of the cart. Wordlessly, Ash took Stella
from Rhiannon and placed her alongside Phillip.

“I’ll see her
forthwith to the manor,” Phillip promised, his big hand on the dog’s head. In
that moment Rhiannon felt sick with gratitude and affection and guilt. He was
such a good man. A decent, kindhearted man. “Rhiannon, you ride along behind
me. If Stella grows restive she’ll need your voice to calm her.”

“Stella won’t grow
restive. She’s lost too much blood,” Ash said, breaking his silence. “Don’t get
down, Rhiannon. You’re staying with me.”

Rhiannon, in the
process of alighting, froze. “Phillip is right. I can help Mrs. Fraiser—”

“No,” Ash said,
approaching his horse. Before she realized what was happening, he’d grasped the
back of the saddle and swung up behind her. One strong arm wrapped around her waist,
pulling her tight against him, imprisoning her there. “You won’t be going back
to Mrs. Fraiser’s. Now or in the foreseeable future.”

“What the hell is
this?” Phillip demanded. Pain and betrayal filled his handsome countenance.
“Rhiannon? Is this—is he what you’ve been trying to tell me? That you and he—?
You bastard!” Phillip erupted. “You bloody bastard! I thought you were my
friend!”

A cold, acid bath
of fear gripped Rhiannon. Stunned beyond coherent thought she twisted in Ash’s
grip. “Ash, you can’t. You can’t do this.” She tore at the arm imprisoning her.
She might as well have been clawing at iron manacles.

“Why are you here,
Watt?” Ash’s voice, so close to her ear, came deadly and soft. “This isn’t the
course the hunters followed. The only thing here is a poacher’s trap, set to
catch a young girl and baited with a tortured dog.”

“What?” Rhiannon
gasped.

“There’s nothing in
that trap that would break a dog’s leg,” Ash went on. “Someone broke her leg on
purpose and then twisted it to set the hound howling so that its fond mistress
would follow the sound.”

“No one would do
something so vile!” Phillip declared. “You’re mad to suggest it.”

“Am I? Why all
these accidents? How many times in the past month has Rhiannon nearly been
killed? How many times were you there?”

“Rhiannon! You
don’t believe this madman, do you?”

“No!” she shouted.
“Ash, I don’t know what you’re about, why you’re saying these things. You can’t
mean them. Phillip couldn’t have done this. His leg is broken. Only think!”

A low, nasty laugh
tickled the hairs by her ear. “So innocent. It has its appeal, I’ll admit, but
you think, Rhiannon. The trap could have been laid a long time ago. A
contingency plan, eh, Watt?”

Phillip rose
awkwardly. His face suffused with color. “Let her down! You have no right—”

“I have every right
and you might be so good as to inform Mrs. Fraiser of such so that she does not
set any of your local magistrates after us.”

Phillip sank down
on the seat. “What do you mean?”

“I have letters
naming me Lord Carr’s agent, with the legal right to act in his behalf. And as
Rhiannon Russell’s surrogate and oh-so-legal guardian, I’m exercising those
rights. There are new laws, Watt, making it illegal for a woman to wed without
her guardian’s consent before she reaches the age of twenty-one. I believe
Rhiannon is younger.”

“No!” Each calm,
cold word sounded a death knell to her future, her life. Ash Merrick was
snatching it from her. All of her life she had been ripped from those she
loved, fled or chased or taken away. It was beginning again. No choices. Simply
robbing her of her right to make her own decisions.