Unlacing the Innocent Miss by Margaret McPhee Read Free Book Online Page B

glance behind and she saw that Wolf was gaining on her. She kicked her heels by the mare’s side, urging her to gallop faster, praying that he would not catch her.
    But it was too late. A few seconds more and Wolf drew alongside.
    She tried to veer away, but there was nowhere to go other than the ditch and the hedge at the side of the road.
    The mare grew confused and started to panic, just as the horse had panicked all those years ago, edging towards the ditch despite all of Rosalind’s efforts to guide her away. Rosalind tugged hard on the reins, knowing that she had to slow the horse’s reckless pace. But the mare did not respond, just galloped even faster, her eyes wild with fear.
    Rosalind felt her seat begin to slip in truth. It was the nightmare from across the years all over again. In her mind’s eye, she saw Elizabeth’s body slip from the saddleand she knew the terrible fate that would follow. She could not scream, could not make a single sound. And still the mare pounded on along the road, and still Rosalind pulled uselessly at the reins, until the leather made her fingers red and swollen. And then another pair of hands were beside hers, taking the reins from her. Wolf. And the mare seemed to respond to his touch, to his strong, calm voice.
    ‘Whoa there, lass, whoa.’
    The little horse began to slow.
    He kept on talking. Rosalind could not hear the words, just his voice, low in timbre and reassuring, smoothing away the panic, loosening that terrible tight knot of fear. The mare finally came to a stop, standing still while Wolf’s hands stroked smoothly at her neck.
    ‘Poor lass,’ he was saying softly, ‘you’re safe now.’
    Rosalind felt something of her terror lift away, watching the mesmerizing movement of his hand and listening to the calming tone of his voice. She forgot that she had been trying to escape, forgot too that Wolf had just stopped her. Her only thought as she slipped from the saddle was that he had saved her. The relief was overwhelming, and, light-headed with it, her legs seemed to melt beneath her, and she stumbled, falling down on her knees. She was alive, alive and unhurt, and she reached forward and clutched at the road’s dirt surface, revelling in the feel of its solid security. She was dimly aware of him guiding the mare away from the ditch, but she could not look to see, could do nothing other than cling to the road.
    ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ A pair of dusty leather boots appeared on the dirt before her.
    She raised her eyes to look up at him.
    ‘You risked not only yourself, but a good horse, withyour foolishness.’ The calm lilt of his voice was gone, only anger remained in its place. His eyes blazed with it, and appeared a deep dark grey as if all of the storm clouds had gathered ready to unleash their fury. He crouched low and looked into her eyes.
    Rosalind felt the fear quiver deep within her.
    ‘If you run, I will find you,’ he said. ‘As Campbell said, we are very good at retrieving. So do not waste your time or mine trying to escape.’ He spoke quietly, softly almost, as if the anger was all reined in and the intensity of his words was all the greater for it.
    His gaze held hers and she could not look away. ‘Whatever foolish plans you may have in your head, Miss Meadowfield, the truth is that you shall not prevent me delivering you to Evedon. You do not wish to go, but you should have thought of the consequences before you stole from him.’ He stood upright and reached his hand down towards hers to pull her up.
    Rosalind stared at his hand, at the long strong fingers with their weathered tan. It was the first time since he had collected her in the cart from Blairadie Inn on Munnoch Moor that he had made any gesture of assistance. She turned her face away and, ignoring the dizziness in her head, rose rather unsteadily to her feet, alone.
    ‘You know nothing of the truth,’ she said and, because her eyes were blurring with