Untamed (40 page)

Halfway there, it started snowing. The first fine powder fast built to blanketing. Soon it was as though the Powers That Be were dumping buckets of the stuff over his head. His glasses fogged. He finally gave up on wiping them and shoved them inside his pocket. Beneath him, the horse reared. Rourke snapped his head upright, struggling to see. The white mass rose up before him like an Eskimo’s igloo. Too late to turn, he tried jumping, but the horse missed. The stallion screamed. Foot slipping from the stirrup, Rourke vaulted headfirst over the saddle. He landed hard. Pain shot through his arm, centering in his shoulder. He rolled—down, down,
down
—the winter-white world whizzing by. He reached out, hands clawing at air, feet kicking to find purchase on ground. A protrusion from the snow broke his fall. He hooked his good arm about it, a tree branch growing out from the edge of the hillside. Panting, he held on. Even as he did so, he acknowledged he was going to die. Not from the blood trickling into his mouth that he dare not wipe away, or from his likely-to-be-dislocated shoulder, or even necessarily from falling to the ravine below, though that might well happen, too. He was going to freeze to death. The particulars might be sketchy, but the outcome was assured.

He was going to die, and his first thought—his only thought—was that he would never see his Katie girl again.

I love you, Kate.

He closed his eyes and waited.

Kate, too, spent a restless night. Wide awake, the sound of Rourke’s bedroom door closing had her rocketing upright in bed. Toby’s bark below her window drew her attention outside. It was still dark, but the sky looked more cream than pitch. A gentle snow started, tapping against the window’s leaded-glass panes. Bobbing light pointed her gaze to Rourke’s silhouette. He was headed for the stables. Her first thought was he must be going to meet Felicity. But no, Felicity slept in one of the east tower rooms. Trysting in the stables when there was a perfectly good bed to be had would be a long way to go to uphold a romantic cliché.

Time ticked by. Kate stood at her window, waiting. Finally he rode beneath her window, though she didn’t think he looked her way. The dog didn’t follow. The snowfall was steadier now, harder. Kate couldn’t be certain, but she thought the mount he rode looked larger than the bay, his usual horse. Watching him ride away, she glimpsed her future. With no ornery Scot to spar with by day and make love with by night, the years ahead stretched out—lonely, desolate, and bleak. All the chocolate confections and romantic novels in the world would not come close to filling such a void. She didn’t want a separation or a divorce. What she wanted was a marriage.

Decided, she turned up a lamp, stripped off her nightgown, and fumbled in her wardrobe for her riding habit. By the time she stepped into the main stable building, dawn was breaking. Reminded of that day when as a child she’d found Princess’s stall empty, her heart sank. This time the empty stall was Zeus’s. For the first time she understood the fear behind his tight-lipped fury when she’d taken Zeus out against his orders.

Oh, Patrick.

She hurried into the tack room and emerged with a saddle and bridle. Princess lifted her head and whinnied, but she hadn’t time for more than a pet in passing. “I’m afraid this is one adventure you’re going to have to sit out, old friend.”

Instead she led Buttercup out of her stall and over to the mounting block. “Are you up to it, my girl?” Kate might as easily have asked the question of herself.

By the time Kate rode out, Toby running ahead, daylight was breaking. It still snowed, but the fall had subsided to a fine powdery mist. She came to a low stone wall, scarcely recognizable from the banked snow. Toby fell into a frenzy of barking. At first Kate dismissed it, telling herself he must have scented an animal he identified as prey, but when he wouldn’t cease, she decided to have a look. She dismounted, and her eye caught on a small shiny object sticking up from the snow. She bent to have a look. Tunneling a hand into the snow, she picked the object up and brushed the snow off. Her heart slammed into chest. She held her husband’s glasses.

She waded over to the ledge beyond the wall, the mare’s hooves crunching in the snow, her own boots sinking to midcalf. She was reminded of her and Rourke’s miserable trek from the train station. A lump rose in her throat. What she wouldn’t give for the chance to step back in time and undo even the last few hours.

Toby raced ahead. She followed the dog over to where the hillside dropped off. Coming to the edge, she saw that a ravine of sorts lay below. Imaging her husband’s big, beautiful body lying twisted and broken at the bottom, she had to force herself to look down.

A groan drew her attention to the far left. She leaned over to look, and her gaze snagged on the snowman dangling off the side.
Rourke?

“Rourke!”

A scarlet streak slashed through the frozen mask on his face. It took her a few seconds to realize it must be blood. But he was moving, and if snowmen didn’t move, then neither did dead men.

Grateful tears crystallized on her cheeks. “Rourke, don’t move. I’m here.”

He looked up. “Kate?” He was too far below for her to tell for certain, but she thought the expression on his face was gladness.

“Yes, yes, it’s me. I’m just above you. Hold on. I’m working out a way to come down and get you.”

He hedged his gaze downward, and following, Kate felt her heart chip away. The snow had iced over the hillside, rendering the terrain slippery as glass.

“Christ, Kate, stay put. Dinna dare take another step closer, and that’s an order.”

She made a tunnel of her hands and shouted down, “An order? If it’s a biddable wife you want, you’ll just have to wait until you’re free to marry Felicity.”

He cracked open his swollen eye and stared up at her.
“Jaysus,
woman, you must be daft. I’d sooner let go and jump now then spend the rest of my life leg-shackled to a scheming witch like Felicity.”

“Are you saying she’s not your mistress?” Madness to be trading shouts as they were, but then this might be her last chance to know.

“Jaysus, no, not since two years ago, not since I met you.”

“Hold on, I’ll be back.”

She hurried over to the horse and unfurled the rope she’d brought for no reason beyond instinct. As she worked, she cursed her foolish,
shrewish,
prideful ways. Why hadn’t she been able to accept that someone as wonderful as Rourke might truly love her? Why hadn’t she confronted him with her suspicions about Felicity and given him the chance to explain? Instead, she’d assumed the worst. Doubtless there was a lesson to be learned, if not several, but certainly the present was neither the time nor place to ponder it.

Looping one end of the rope about her horse’s neck, she called down, “Whatever happens, we’ll see it through together, for I am most certainly not leaving you. If you want to throttle me for being a disobedient wife, you’ll bloody well have to wait until you gain a foothold on solid ground.”

Watching her, fear broke over Rourke, not for himself but for Kate. “Kate, I mean it, stay put. You can’t save me. You’ll only kill yourself, as well.”

“So be it. If need be, I’ll be Juliet to your Romeo—or haven’t you read that one yet?”

“Kate, I mean it…”

He tried all manner of verbal threats to stop her, but in the end he was helpless to do other than watch, his heart in his throat, as she shimmied down the edge of the embankment, feet skittering on the slippage. Breathing hard and fast, he held very still while she looped the twist of rope about his waist and tied it into a knot that would do a sailor proud.

“Where did you learn to tie a knot like that? Surely not from the worthy Mrs. Beeton?”

She flashed a quick, tight smile and set to work. “I know how to do a great many useful things. I’m called Capable Kate for a reason.”

“You’re
my
Capable Kate,” he whispered, only this time the sobriquet wasn’t a disparagement but an endearment. “Hold. A kiss, Katie, for luck,” he added, knowing it might well be the last kiss they shared.

Kate’s eyes met his. Snow frosted her lashes. He could only imagine how he must look.

“Not for luck, Patrick, for love.” She angled her face and brushed her mouth over his.

Rourke felt the last of his reserve crumble away, much like the snow breaking away beneath their feet. Tasting the brine of Kate’s tears, looking into her beautiful, brave face, he knew that, whatever happened, loving her was worth it all.

Drawing back, he said, “If we make it out of this, Katie, will you swear to grow old with me?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I swear it, Patrick. And though I can’t promise I’ll grow any tamer with age, I can promise to be your loyal, loving wife for all my days.”

She turned and started her upward climb. As soon as Kate gained the landing, he sent up a quick, grateful prayer. She at least was safe, and provided she let go of the rope once she lost control, she would remain so. Watching her loop the other end of the rope about the mare and walk the beast backward, he called upon all his strength to keep his hold. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, he was hoisted upward. Gritting his teeth, he tried not to think about the shards of rock tearing at his clothes and flesh or how the rope about his waist was showing signs of fraying. Instead he focused on the image in his mind’s eye of his wife’s beautiful, tear-stained face when a moment ago she’d sworn to grow old with him. Using his good leg and arm to work with the rope, he was almost to the top of the embankment when suddenly the coil about his waist broke.

He hurtled downward, catching himself this time on an icy shelf of landing. Kate rushed over to the side and flopped down on her front. She stretched out her arms. Even wearing the bulky winter coat, they were slender as reeds. “Take hold.”

“Nay, Kate, you canna lift me. You’ll only be dragged down, too.” He started sliding. She grabbed hold of his collar, refusing to let go. “Let go, damn you!”

Her determined gaze met his. “Not now, not ever. We do this together, Patrick.”

It was no use. He was going to die. But he was not going to take Kate with him. After all the mistakes he’d made with her, the least he could do was to not drag her to her death.

Toby’s barking sounded as backdrop.

“Hold on.” Harry replaced Kate at the top. “We’re going to rig up a hoist and pull you up.”

“We?”

Gavin’s dark head materialized beside Harry’s blond one. “Hold tight.”

They dropped the hoist down, and he caught it in his teeth. Holding on, he managed to loop it about his waist.

From above, Harry called down, “Ready?”

Rourke nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Heave-ho.”

The next thing he knew, he was rising again. He reached the top, Gavin and Hadrian pulling him the rest of the way. Even with more than a foot of snow on the ground,
terra firma
had never felt quite so good.

His friends fell to the side. Kate left the horse and rushed to him, her slender arms wrapping around him and her head burying against his chest. Harry threw a blanket about his shoulders. From the roadway, he saw Callie and Daisy climbing out of the carriage.

Wiping perspiration from his brow, Harry said, “When Zeus showed up at the stables without Rourke—and Kate, too, was missing—we formed a search party to comb the area.”

“Toby is the true hero among us,” Gavin added, reaching down to give the dog a pat. “We were just about to move on to search elsewhere when he ran up and grabbed hold of my coattail. He wouldn’t let go until we followed him back here.”

Kate pulled her head from Rourke’s chest and looked up. A look of silent understanding passed between them. Grateful as they were to their friends, the details of the rescue could keep until later. For now all they wanted was time alone to savor the miracle of the second chance that was theirs.

Their two friends exchanged glances. Hadrian spoke up, “We’ll, uh … be in the carriage when you’re ready to go.”

Gavin nodded. “I’ll walk Kate’s mare back. She’s a brave little lady, but she looks as though she could do with a rest from being ridden.”

Kate turned to them. “Are you quite certain you don’t mind?”