Page 81 of Wedded to the Sinful Duke

Jonathan mounted his horse with practiced speed, his exhaustion forgotten in the face of this new lead.

As Ciara found herself in the carriage cell again, the melody of her grandmother’s song still echoed faintly in her mind. That was the only thing keeping her sane.

The sudden, ominous growl of thunder drew her gaze to the barred window through which she could see dark, roiling clouds gathering in the sky.

As if in response to the foreboding sky, a fierce storm broke out with a suddenness that took her breath away. The rain began in torrents, pounding against the window with a relentless intensity. The wind howled through the narrow opening,carrying with it the scent of rain and the distant rumble of thunder.

Ciara could hear the commotion outside—the coachman was cursing under his breath, his frustration audible even through the storm’s fury.

Mother Superior’s voice cut through the storm’s din, sharp and authoritative. “Mind your language!” she scolded, her tone stern and uncompromising. “We will not be deterred by a mere storm.”

The coachman’s muttered curses continued, drowned out by the roar of the wind. As the storm intensified, the road outside began to transform. The steady downpour turned the path into a quagmire of mud and slush, each wheel of the coach sinking deeper into the mire with each passing moment.

The coach swayed violently as it struggled to maintain its course, the horses straining against the thickening mud. The rain lashed against the windows, obscuring Ciara’s view but amplifying the sense of chaos and turmoil outside.

In her cell, Ciara’s heart pounded with a mixture of fear and anticipation. The storm, though frightening, seemed to offer a glimmer of hope. Perhaps the tempest could delay their progress or even cause an opportunity for escape. The violent upheaval of nature felt like a cruel twist of fate, yet it also presented a chance for salvation.

Amidst the storm’s roar, she could faintly hear Mother Superior’s voice raised in urgent concern.

“There’s a large branch fallen across the road!” Mother Superior’s voice pierced through the clamor, laced with alarm. “Be careful!”

The driver’s curses and the frantic sound of his attempts to control the horses grew louder. The thunder crashed once more, its reverberations more deafening than before. The sheer volume of the storm’s assault startled the horses, their panicked whinnies cutting through the tumultuous noise.

Ciara pressed her back against the wall of her cell, her heart racing as the sounds of the struggle outside reached fever pitch. She could hear the coachman’s desperate shouts, his voice strained and desperate as he tried to calm the frenzied animals.

Without warning, the coach lurched violently. The force of the impact with the fallen branch was immense.

The sudden jolt threw Ciara forward with brutal force. She was propelled against the side of the carriage, the sharp pain of the collision striking her head with a force that blurred her vision.

The world spun as her senses dimmed, the storm’s roar fading into a muffled, distant noise. Her body crumpled to the floor, and the darkness quickly overtook her.

CHAPTER 40

Jonathan pressed on through the storm, his determination undimmed by the downpour that had already soaked him to the very bone.

The clouds above him hung thick and ominous, but fate seemed to favor him and his endeavor. The rain had slowly begun to wane, easing to a light drizzle that offered only a fleeting respite.

Jonathan’s eyes remained sharp, scanning the road for any signs of trouble. The storm had wreaked havoc on the landscape, turning the once-passable route into a quagmire of mud and debris. His horse, though weary, navigated the obstacles with a practiced gait.

Suddenly, he heard something. It was a faint sound, but he recognized it immediately, that haunting melody that cut through the storm’s aftermath.

Ciara.

His exhaustion and the relentless conditions seemed to dissolve in the face of this newfound hope. Driven by a surge of determination, he urged his horse into a swift gallop, navigating the muddy road with newfound urgency.

The road was still as treacherous as before, but he had Ciara’s song to guide him now.

As he rounded a bend, the sight that met his eyes nearly stopped his heart. The overturned jail coach lay amid the wreckage, its wheels embedded in the muddy ground. The storm had wreaked havoc on the carriage, but Jonathan’s eyes were drawn to the source of the music.

He dismounted swiftly, his soaked cloak flapping in the breeze. The song’s melody was a fragile lifeline in the chaos, guiding him to the wreckage. He approached the overturned coach, his hands trembling as he moved.

“Ciara!” Jonathan called out, his voice urgent but tinged with hope. “Ciara, can you hear me?”

His voice reverberated through the storm’s remnants, and for a moment, the only response was the sound of the rain dripping from the broken carriage and the distant rumble of thunder.

“Ciara!” he shouted again, his voice breaking through the gloom. “I’m here!”

Finally, a weak, trembling voice answered, faint but unmistakable. “Jonathan…?”

---