Page 100 of Feathers in the Wind
She stirred at the change of pace, her eyelashes fluttering for a moment but the rhythm of the horse’s gait, seemed to soothe her and with a sigh, she drew closer to him, murmuring to herself.
Sleep, or unconsciousness, softened her face and took away the hard edges that the responsibility of her position gave her. He wondered for a moment how she would look in a satin gown and pearls, her hair done up in the fine ringlets the women of his father’s household had favoured.
With a snort of laughter, he dismissed the picture. Fine ringlets and pearls may become Penitence but not Deliverance. Deliverance Felton had something more than physical beauty, she had intelligence and character.
That thought sobered him and he tightened the arm that held her. For the first time in his life, he had met a woman whom he could consider his equal in so many ways. She may frustrate him beyond measure, but he couldn’t imagine Kinton Lacey without its mistress.
And he had almost got her killed.
They skirted the back lanes, narrowly avoiding a patrol of Farrington’s men. It had made the return journey considerably longer than it should have been and the lengthening shadows crept across the fields before the outline of the castle appeared above the trees.
For a fleeting moment Luke could imagine that no war lurked like some menacing beast in the dark. No forty-eight pounder siege gun, and four times the number of troops waited at Ludlow to bring the castle to its knees. Instead Kinton Lacey drowsed, golden in the setting sun, the pretty wallflowers that grew from the crevices of its mighty walls, a strange contrast to the new earthworks and the churned fields marking the recent altercations.
“Deliverance,” he said. “We’re safe.”
She stirred and opened her eyes and looked up at the familiar walls rising above her. She stiffened and the old, familiar Deliverance flashed back into her eyes as she pushed away from him.
“Let me down, I can walk,” she said. “They cannot see that I’m hurt.”
Far from letting her go, Luke tightened his hold and shook his head. “If I let you down you will fall flat on your face, my lady,”
The sentries had already spotted them and he could make out the tall figure of Melchior, accompanied by Penitence and Ned, in the shadow of the gatehouse.
Penitence reached them first. “Liv! You’re hurt.”
“She’ll be all right,” Luke said. “It’s just a graze but she has lost quite a deal of blood. You, Truscott.” He hailed one of the Kinton Lacey garrison. “Take your mistress.”
The big man with a pleasant, round face hurried across to the horse and reached up to take the woman.
“Put me down, Truscott,” Deliverance protested faintly. “I can walk.”
“Now then, Mistress Deliverance,” Truscott said. “We won’t have any of that nonsense.”
“What happened?” Penitence glared at Luke as he dismounted.
“We encountered your friend, Jack Farrington,” Luke said.
Penitence gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “Jack? Jack, did this to her?”
“No, that was his brother.”
“He was trying to shoot Captain Collyer. Pity he missed,” Deliverance interposed over Truscott’s sturdy shoulder.
“I told you it was a foolish plan,” Penitence stood in front of Luke, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Now look what you’ve done? Truscott, carry her up to her bedchamber. Meg,” she turned to the maid who stood at the foot of the stairs, “fetch water and bandages.”
Luke, left holding the reins of the horse, stood in the middle of the courtyard watching as the little party, with Deliverance still protesting she could walk, disappeared into the residence.
“Well done,” Ned said in an ironic tone. “I hope your precious excursion was worth risking Sir John’s daughter’s life?”
Luke turned to look at his friend. “She’ll live.”
“That’s not the point. Sir John Felton will not thank you for getting his daughter shot.”
“Then Sir John Felton should not have left her in command of the defence of his home. I need a drink.”
He handed over the horse to one of his men, and climbed the stairs into the house, where he slumped into a chair in the Great Hall and sent for Melchior Blakelocke, Sergeant Hale and a jug of Sir John’s best wine.
“Well?” Ned demanded when they were all assembled. “What did you find out?”
