Page 40 of A Night of Forever
Night was falling. Soon it would be too dangerous to travel at this speed in the dark. The horse was already laboring. A tired horse could stumble.
She could fall.
Just when Isobel thought she’d slip into a faint at any moment, the horse began to slow. She lifted her head and saw a coaching inn in the distance.
“We are stopping there for the night,” Dufort growled. “If I hear one word from you, I shall bind and gag you. If I have to, I’ll knock you out again. Do you understand?”
She tried to nod, but the movement made her nauseous. “Yes,” she finally whispered.
When they were still some distance from the inn, Dufort reined in the horse and let Isobel slide off. The moment she hit the ground her legs buckled under her and she fell to the dirt. Dufort didn’t even look at her. He dismounted and left her where she fell. Both of them knew she was in no condition to run.
“I want to walk the horse from here,” he said. “It needs time to cool down. If we are asked, I shall say you were thrown and lost your mount several miles back. That should allay any curiosity over your appearance.” His mouth twisted in disgust as he regarded his coat and breeches. “Or mine.”
Isobel didn’t care a fig for Dufort’s appearance. But hers? She must look dreadful.
She raised her hands to her hair, where more than a few pins had fallen out. Most of her hair now tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. One glance at the rest of her—covered in dirt and blood, her clothes ripped and ragged—told her she looked as though she had been dragged through a hedge, if not worse.
Dufort leaned down and grabbed her hand. “Move,” he said, and hauled her to her feet.
She stood there, swaying, utterly unable to take a step.
With a curse, Dufort seized her around the waist and lifted her up so she sat sidesaddle on his horse.
“Don’t get any bloody ideas,” he said as he tossed the reins over the horse’s head and began to lead it along the road. “I’ll shoot you if I have to.”
If I have to…Her brain began to function. Then he needed her alive, and she needed to make sure she stayed that way. For the moment it meant she would obey him. But the first chance she got to make a successful escape, she would take it.
As they got closer to the inn she recognized where they were, and her hope soared. They were heading north, toward York. Now she knew where Dufort was taking her: Durham, where she believed they were holding Arend. To that damnable coal mine—she would bet her life on it. Shewasbetting her life on it. And Arend’s.
As they encountered more people, the stares Isobel’s condition provoked were obvious.
One kindly looking elderly man stepped forward. “Are you all right, miss?”
She merely smiled, nodded, and let Dufort answer.
“I’m escorting my sister home,” he said, “from a visit with our aunt. The silly lass took a tumble from her mare several miles back. If you see a white mare with a patch of brown on its flank, please send word to Lady Northumberland. I work for her.”
This seemed to pacify the man and others who had gathered.
“You should get the doctor to look at her face.”
Gingerly Isobel touched her cheek. Her fingers came away sticky with blood. He’d split her skin. It was odd that even with her life in jeopardy she was concerned that the cut would leave a scar. How ridiculous.
“Aye,” Dufort said. “We’ll do that when we get home.”
When they reached the inn, Dufort handed the horse over to a young stable boy. “I’ll be out to check on him shortly.” The boy nodded, and led the horse away leaving Dufort to hustle Isobel into the inn.
Dufort took a room and ordered food for them. They were on their way upstairs and almost to the room when one of the doors ahead opened and a man stepped out.
Isobel almost cried out in relief.
It was Lieutenant Colbert, the army surgeon who had operated on Marisa after their terrible carriage accident. Not only did he know a little about the plight of the Libertine Scholars, but she could see from the expression in his eyes that he recognized her.
His face grew grim when he saw her wounds, and he was about to speak when she forestalled him with a slight shake of her head.
His gaze slid from her face to that of Dufort’s behind her, and he must have caught her warning, because he said nothing, and simply stayed in his doorway and nodded at Dufort as the man pushed her past.
Dufort allowed her to eat. To her embarrassment, however, he would not leave the room while she relieved herself, although he allowed her to use the chamber pot behind a screen.
