Page 73 of A Whisper of Desire
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The men learned they were close. The lone rider they passed a mile back said the carriage had sped by only a few minutes ago.
They were lucky it had rained all during the day. The ground was soft, making it heavy going for the coach.
The night was making way for dawn, thank goodness, as it was dangerous traveling over open ground where you could not see ditches, undulations, et cetera. It was mostly luck that no horse had stumbled into a hole or bruised the sole of its hoof on a sharp stone.
Maitland had just finished thinking such a thought when a horse’s shrill cry filled the dawn. It was the cry he imagined men heard on the field from dying steeds as they fell in battle. He heard Arend’s curse and spurred Astraea to run faster. The mare was already lathered with sweat, but she sensed her master’s urgency.
Astraea stumbled as they began to climb a small rise, and it was only because the sun peeked over the horizon that Hadley’s steed didn’t break its hock in a large hole. Thankfully, Hadley’s good hands gathered the reins and kicked the stallion to surge high into the air and sail over it.
Concentrating on ensuring that Hadley remained seated, Maitland did not at first see the carriage. It was only Arend’s cry as they pounded down the other side of the rise that drew his attention to the wreckage lying off the road in a ditch partially filled with water.
No one is movingwas the thought that slammed into him as he viewed the wreckage. At the same time, he realized with sickening certainty that this was the carriage that contained his wife.
He drove his heels into his horse’s side and raced toward the upturned carriage with rage in his heart. If Marisa was hurt, their enemy could go to the ends of the earth and try to hide, but he’d find her and make her pay.
When he reached the carriage, he slid off his mare before she’d had a chance to come to a halt, and raced for the gap where a carriage door should be hanging. It was ripped off, a gaping hole in its place with splinters of wood everywhere.
The sun was delivering warmth, yet he felt so cold. When he clambered over the broken wheel and onto the carriage step he found the body of a woman lying still on one of the squabs. Even though the woman’s coloring was the same as Marisa’s, she couldn’t be Marisa because this woman wore a dress. Marisa had been in disguise. She’d been wearing trousers. He used his teeth to tear off his gloves, and, grabbing her wrist, he felt for a pulse. He let out a breath as he felt a strong regular beat. He signaled to Hadley. “Help me get her out.”
Arend appeared just as they carried the woman out onto the grass. “Whoever took them has scarpered.” He placed a hand on Maitland’s shoulder. “I want you to take a deep breath.”
The roar of his pulse thundered in his ear. “Have they taken her? Is she not here?” At least if they took her, it would mean she was still alive.
Arend’s face looked ashen. “She’s here.” He looked at Hadley before saying, “Come with me.”
Scrambling to find his footing in the boggy ground, he raced after Arend. They rounded the carriage and he saw it had hit an oak tree; part of the back had sheared off and fallen into the ditch, where there was about half a foot of water.
Arend slid down into the ditch, the water almost coming to the top of his Hessians. Only when Arend bent down did he see what his fellow Libertine Scholar was looking at. A foot.Marisa’s foot.
Maitland went crazy as he tried to push the piece of carriage up and off her. “Don’t just stand there, bloody help, you bastard!” he yelled at Arend. “Don’t you dare tell me she’s dead,” he added, before Arend could tell him it was pointless.
Just then, a splash was heard. It was her foot, and it was moving, trying to find ground.
Arend moved like a lightning bolt, both of them yelling for Hadley to come and help. It took the three of them to move the heavy underside of the carriage off her.
Luckily, the ground was soft due to the water and she had not been crushed, merely pinned. Her head had also been held above the water line.
Before they moved her, Maitland placed his fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse. Unlike the other woman, hers was weak and erratic.
There had to be an injury.
He gently rolled her over onto her back, and it was Hadley’s hiss of breath that drew his attention to the piece of wood protruding from the lower right area of her stomach.
His hand reached—
“Don’t touch it. We can’t remove it until we have her somewhere a surgeon can help. She might bleed to death.”
His hand hovered over the splinter, everything in him screaming to tear it free, to remove it from where it threatened the woman he loved. Yet he understood Hadley’s warning.
“How are we going to move her? I can’t pick her up or the wood might penetrate farther.”
Arend ran a hand through his hair. “The closest town is Crouch End. I’ll try there. If not, I’ll head back toward London. I will bring a surgeon here.”
Maitland was paralyzed with fear. The wrong decision could take from him the very person he found was the only one he wanted in his life. He could not speak but merely nodded.
“Before you go, let’s very carefully carry her farther up and onto dry land under the tree. We should get her out of these wet clothes.”
