Page 151 of The Lord Meets His Lady
Bits and pieces of the world came together.
The sun glared. The wind blew. A cheering crowd circled. Men slapped each other’s back with whoops and hollers like excited boys. Mrs. Grey was among the clutch of men, the papers peeking from her bodice. The lad on the black touched his forelock to Marcus. The stable master’s chest billowed, but he touched his forelock to Marcus too and dismounted from the lathered bay. He walked the high-strung bay afield to get her away from the crowd.
Marcus slid off Khan, salt stinging his eyes. His boots hit the ground, and he braced both hands on his knees. He swiped a sleeve across his eyes, but the sting burned deep. He’d witnessed Khan’s birth. His horse of almost five years, a creature of intelligence he trained, weaning the foal from his mother, his friend…was lost.
“Sorry, old friend,” he said, his breath billowing painfully.
Nostrils flared, Khan snorted. His head tipped with pride at winning the race, the gleam of victory in his eyes. A knot formed behind Marcus’s breastbone. Stroking Khan’s muzzle, he had to let go. Genevieve ran to his side and smothered his face with kisses.
“You won!” she cried and squeezed his shoulders.
Samuel slapped his back. “Well done, Marcus. Well done. Khan will get extra oats and a fine rubdown tonight.”
“He’ll have the finest care.” Marcus gathered Khan’s reins and stood upright.
Atal approached in high spirits. “Good show, Bowles. Finest race I’ve seen in a long time.” He smiled at Samuel and Genevieve, his pomade curls defying the wind. “I can’t complain about the outcome.”
“Both your horses did well, Baron,” Genevieve said.
“Both? All three of the horses are mine.” He smiled and snapped his fingers for a footman. “Didn’t your husband tell you? He sold Khan to me.”
“What?” Genevieve and Samuel cried out in unison.
Marcus hissed through clenched teeth. Sweat trickled down his face. “A moment, if you please.”
Samuel grabbed Marcus’s arm, his astonishment morphing to brilliant respect. “A defining moment, Marcus. You are a man of honor.”
“YousoldKhan?” Both hands covered Genevieve’s cheeks, but her eyes glossed with pain.
Her mouth an O, her face crumpled as the footman led Khan away to his new life in a plush stall in Baron Atal’s barn. Head high, the gray’s tail arced with pride. At the road, Khan’s neck arched for one look back. Big brown eyes, knowing eyes, took in the cluster of Samuel, Marcus, and Genevieve. The gray snorted, cresting the knoll to the castle. Khan knew what was afoot. The last snort was his approval at being sacrificed for love and friendship.
“I did,” Marcus said wistfully, taking in Samuel and Genevieve. “For us.”
The Prussian’s boots slammed the earth on his march from the trees. He squabbled with Barnard and Thade, the hulking footmen trailing by three paces. Barnard grabbed Herr Wolf’s arm and jabbed a finger at his waiting carriage.
“Nein!” the soldier bellowed, shaking Barnard off.
The baron glared at the disturbance. “What in the devil is going on?”
The Prussian charged the finish line, reaching behind his back and pulling a pistol from his breeches’ waistband. Thade and the two rufflers followed suit.
“Samuel, get Genevieve and Mrs. Grey out of here.” Marcus reached inside his boot for his pocket pistol, but Herr Wolf cocked his pistol, aiming at Marcus.
“Hands up,Englisch.”
Marcus stilled and slowly began to raise both hands. Cries rose from the revelers. Stoneleigh and the others scattered up the knoll. Halliburton showed some mettle and pulled a pocket pistol from inside his coat.
“Herr Wolf,” Atal blustered. “You are a guest in my home. I demand—”
“Shut up.”
Atal faltered. Ravens cawed, and Avo advanced on Wolf, holding his pistol by the barrel.
Sunlight gleamed sharp off the Prussian’s pistol. Marcus winced and raised his hands higher. The next few seconds flew past, yet each motion, each word was a picture frame in time, dragging in a blur.
Wolf barked “The papers!” at Mrs. Grey as feral-eyed Avo Thade slammed his pistol butt on the Prussian’s skull.
The giant fell forward as onlookers yelled from the knoll. Mrs. Grey screamed. Thunder sounded, but no storms brewed.
“Marcus!” Genevieve yelled.
The rufflers advanced, their faces grim. The thunder grew. People yelled. Fingers pointed frantically behind Marcus. He glimpsed the skittish brown charging him. Clods of dirt flew. Teeth bared, the brown kicked up her heels. Marcus dove to avoid her but too late.
She slammed him. He flew through the air and landed hard, his head hitting the grassy ground. The world became hazy. Gray light stole around him, shrinking the world. The rufflers dragged an unconscious Wolf to the carriage, his boot toes plowing grass. Thade tucked his pistol away and gave Marcus a slight nod. Their plan had worked.
Not only had Barnard tipped the Wolf’s hand by revealing when he’d leave; Barnard had also revealed a possible ally in Avo Thade.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
His head throbbed with the ancient proverb. Gray light spread across his vision. A crowd shadowed him, their shoes black leather in the grass. Genevieve knelt beside him, her red cloak the last thing he saw before the world went black.
