Page 18 of The Beast of the Highlands
“I thought I would find you here.” A voice had distracted Autumn from her gloomy thoughts of her family’s imminent ruination, and the choice she was going to have to make to prevent it.
She had turned to find her brother, Orwell, sitting astride his horse. Two years older than her, at five-and-twenty, he shared the same blonde hair and sapphire gaze, possessing a ruggedly handsome face and a ready smile, though it did not always reach the blue eyes that had seen so many nightmarish visions upon the battlefield.
Autumn had managed a smile. “Where else would you find me? I am here more than I am at home, at present.”
“There is truth in that.” Orwell had swung down from the saddle to stand beside her. “Nor can I blame you. I would not want to linger to watch our belongings being taken from our home, either. I would have joined you, had I known you had taken Seashell out.”
Autumn had swallowed. “I thought I ought to enjoy her for as long as I am able, before she must also be sold.” Tears had pricked at her eyes, for Seashell was more than a horse to her. The mare represented loyalty, liberation, and escape.
“Father would not,” Orwell had assured, but Autumn did not believe him. “Besides, I have purchased more time for us, Dear Sister.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Her eyes had narrowed in concern.
Orwell, meanwhile, could not meet her gaze. “I have taken another deployment with the Army. They have offered me a promotion. I will be Captain, this time.”
Autumn’s heart had plummeted as she had heard her brother’s words. “No! You must not. You barely escaped with your life, the last time!”
She had looked to his right hand, forever concealed with a glove, knowing that the skin beneath was raw and pink and shiny, where the searing burst of canister fire had burned him from fingertip to shoulder. He bore similar scars across the right side of his chest, and some deeper lines that were a dark purple, where shrapnel had been plucked out of him and he had been sewn shut by the clumsy hands of field surgeons.
I watched you, at your bedside. I watched you twist and turn and cry out in a delirium and feared you would not emerge alive.
Her heart had ached, thinking of him in that same position again.
Orwell had ruffled his sister’s hair. “Do not fear for me, Sweet Sister. I was born under a lucky star. I will prevail, and I will return in due course, perhaps with a medal pinned to my chest.”
“Or in a wooden box!” Autumn had shot back, devastated by the news. “You have only just recovered, Orwell. The Army would not argue if you told them you wished to be discharged.”
Orwell had shaken his head sadly. “The family needs my income, Sister. It is the only way we may keep the manor, and even then, I do not know if it will be enough. Father has sunk into his depression, and Mother is descending into a similar pit of despair.” He had paused. “It is up to me to ensure the family’s survival, for we have Laurel to think of.”
“Then… I must also play my part. With that in mind, Dear Brother, I have something to tell you.”
Autumn snapped out of her reverie and concentrated on the road. Orwell had not been best pleased when she had informed him of her plan to ride north, across the border, to seek employment. She had managed to make him understand that there was no other option, and if he would not relent about returning to the Army, then she would not back down on taking some responsibility for their family’s future, either.
But he was always the sensible one.
Seashell had walked on a few more paces when Autumn pulled gently on the reins, bringing the horse to a halt. She could have sworn she had heard the pound of hooves, coming from somewhere behind her.
“Not again,” she hissed, drawing out her dagger and twisting around in the saddle. Hand trembling, she pointed the sharp end at the darkness, petrified that those deserters might have come back to finish what they had started.
A voice pierced through the shadow. “So, that’s where me dagger went, is it? I thought ye said I could have it indefinitely? I told ye I’d show ye how to use it, so why are ye runnin’ off?” The familiar tone sounded momentarily sad. “Is yer work done? Am I an educated man, just like that?”
“That dagger will be the least of yer worries, ye slippery wee snake!” a second voice cut, straight as an arrow, through Autumn’s chest. Leighton, she could cope with. Flynn, she could not. It was too raw still. Too painful.
Especially as I can still feel your lips on mine whenever I close my eyes. I cannot rest for thinking of you, and your body pressed to mine, and your mouth against my skin…
Unable to bear this confrontation, she whirled back around and squeezed her thighs against Seashell’s sides. The ever-obedient mare took off without hesitation, picking up speed as Autumn charged away from Leighton and Flynn, and the guilt, the shame, and the heartbreak that would come from seeing their faces.
For if they begged her to stay or pleaded for her to come back when her visit home was done, she knew she would not be able to resist.
12
Chaos broke loose as Autumn entered the manor she had temporarily abandoned, having ridden hard for hours without once looking back. Of course, she had known it would be a difficult homecoming, but after the heartache and confusion of the last couple of days, she had hoped for a gentler welcome.
“Autumn! What were you thinking? Have you taken leave of your senses?” Her mother swept out of the drawing room, having been summoned by the housekeeper, Mrs. Holbeck. Although, given the family’s financial circumstances, Mrs. Holbeck was also the cook, the chambermaid, the lady’s maid, the steward, and everything in between.
Autumn bowed her head. “I trust you found my letters. I left them where they would be easily seen. And I have sent further correspondence, to let you know I was safe and well.”
“A letter is no substitute for an actual discussion on such an important matter! Besides, a kidnapper could easily have written your other letters!” her mother retorted, keeping a stern distance… when all Autumn wanted was for her mother to bring her into a fond embrace.
