His lips lifted in the semblance of a smile. "Shouldn't you concern yourself with your beautiful neck before worrying about others?"
Anne covered the mentioned part with shaky hands. Must he be so blunt? Though what he said sounded right, it was wrong to put their lives above the royal family. "What if—"
"After the sun sets, we won't be able to descend the scarp. We have no time."
A shot echoed over the stone walls, and the horses lifted their heads. Anne's heart bolted, and she stifled a scream. "Take me back, please."
"Do you wish those villains to bring violence to Vesuvio?" Despite his harsh words, his tone was soothing. "I want your trust. Do you trust me, Ana?"
He said her name that way again, the vowels reverberating inside her. Why did he have to say it so? She opened her eyes. He was too close and asked too much.
He tugged the reins of a white mare, the one from the painting in his room. "This is Hemera."
"Hemera?" Anne touched its nose in greeting.
"The Greek Goddess of Light. She scatters the night's shadows at dawn, bathing the earth in the ether's light. Her steps are sure. You have nothing to fear."
"She is beautiful."
He gazed at her intensely and placed Anne's hand on the mare's frizzy mane. "She is yours."
Anne gasped. "You are most generous, but I... I cannot accept."
"You'll need a horse for this trip." His expression turned aloof, and he spoke matter-of-factly as if he had offered her a glass of water or a parasol, not a prized Lusitano steed.
"I couldn't. It wouldn't be proper to receive a gift from you, and it's too valuable—"
The count placed a finger on her lips. "She will be yours as long as you stay with me. Is that more acceptable?"
Anne nodded but held her breath, unused to being touched like this.
He helped her mount. Astride the horse, she could not avoid looking at the void beyond the ridge. Anne failed to control her breaths, the bursts too loud in the hushed ravine.
"Ana?"
"Hmm?"
"Look at me."
She did. The setting sun mellowed the lines streaked on his irises, and though his expression was controlled, his eyes exuded a compelling force, a magnetism too hard to resist. Anne lowered her gaze.
"There is a path hidden on the rocks. I know it. The horses know it. I ordered their iron shoes removed so that they won't slip. If navigated carefully, it is secure. Keep your eyes on me, not the canyon, your knees tight, the reins firm, and when we go down, bend your torso backward. Hemera will do the rest. Let her follow my horse."
He took a carrot from his pocket and spoke to Hemera in husky Portuguese. Hemera neighed and nuzzled his narrow waist until he fed her the treat. His black-gloved hand contrasted with the white mare as he tangled his fingers in her mane, so close to Anne's knees that pinpricks rose below her riding breeches.
The Count of Almoster was kinder to animals than to people. If Hemera trusted him...
Anne made her decision. She would trust this man for now and help him in any capacity available for her. "I will follow you."
He lifted his gaze, and a barely audible gasp escaped his lips. Then he bowed and left, his strides taking him towards his stallion. With a gracious move, he mounted his massive Lusitano and stepped forward—into nothingness.
After a parting glance at the fortress, she followed the count into the precipice.
When they reached the valley, Anne glanced up, her pulse steady for a change. The coudelaria had shrunk, now a speck atop the cliff. They were alive, and she had navigated a treacherous mountain by herself. But the ordeal wasn't done. The count guided them over a dense forest. During the long hours astride, the cheerful brother had kept a steady stream of conversation, and before the sun had vanished completely, he had convinced her to call him Cris.
They traveled until night had plunged the path into darkness, and her legs alternated between blessed numbness and unpleasant tingles and cramps. When they stopped for the night, Anne was drained. Cris came to help her alight. The count had his back turned, already rubbing down Erebus, his movements brisk and efficient. Cris took Hemera and his horse away, no doubt to receive the same treatment. Her legs could do with a thorough rubbing too...
She limped to where Cris had left James's basket and bent to pick him up, relishing the warmth of his body. "You are a brave boy."
