Miss Nash and Miss Hamilton, he noted, were nowhere to be seen but then with that sky, they were likely lingering over tea in the Temple of Aeolus, and he continued for the shelter of the gate.
“Wait, Miles!” she called and he turned to Verity who’d dug her proverbial booted heels into the path.
“Verity…” A light drizzle commenced, coating her hair in silver webs. “If you wish to tell me of something, I am ready to listen but let us do so in my carriage.” His gaze flicked to the darkening sky. “And not in the middle of a gathering rainstorm.”
“No.” She folded her arms. “I need the air to think, Miles. I’ve been struggling on ways to explain…why I said what I did that night.”
“Veri–” A low rumble in the distance portended his words. He returned to her and offered a hand. “Come to the carriage. Lynch has it just over there and I’ll not interrupt you, but I’d rather you were dry.”
“No. I-I have to tell you here. For you deserve the truth. To know it all.” She placed a hand to her heart. “I have been a coward for many reasons. I fear you will accept my explanation but not fully realise the consequences. I fear the pain of the past. It has been so long since I’ve told anyone the entire truth.”
Miles frowned. “The truth of what?”
She stepped near and closed her eyes. Opened them again, clearer than the autumn leaves surrounding them. “I… I was th–”
Bright. Jagged. Verity’s face lit by Zeus’ bolt.
Horses whinnied in fright and Miles twisted. His sturdy carriage steeds stamped their hooves but Verity’s fine-limbed bays tossed their heads and quivered with distress, straining against the harnesses as the young lad atop the phaeton yanked hard at the reins to contain them.
“No,” shouted Miles. “Don’t pull–” He twisted, ran through the gate, towards the phaeton, Verity at his side, could see Lynch scrambling from his own perch as they–
The very sky seemed to collapse with water, a rush that hammered upon them like a thousand drummers in battle, the sky dark as Hades, wind whipping down the lane.
And then, as though the heavens could no longer contain their wrath, thunder ripped it apart.
Horses screamed and through the slashing rain, the phaeton rocked like a storm-tossed ship.
“Steady,” yelled Lynch to the lad but too late as one of the horses reared within its harness and the lad was thrown like a rag doll from atop, hitting the soaked ground, his yelp drowned by the fury.
“No!” Verity screamed. “Daniel!” She surged forward and he followed but the horse thrashed once more, hooves flailing, and Verity was caught in the madness, caught between the animals and the chaos of the storm as she strived to reach the fallen lad. Thunder deafened and her feet stumbled, tangled in wet skirts, hooves too close and–
Miles stretched, caught Verity by the shoulders, her face a blur of grey in the pelting maelstrom. He gripped her arm, voice raw as he hauled her towards his carriage, his own steeds restive but restrained.
“In here, you’ll be safe,” he barked, flinging the door open, Verity’s protection all that mattered.
“No! Daniel!” she cried, straining to run, her eyes as wild as the storm, the air still thick with hooves and rain, stamping and tumult.
“Stay here!” he shouted. “Lynch and I will see to him.” And he thrust her inside. “Don’t leave till I come back for you.” And he slammed the door, turned to the phaeton.
Boots sliding, Lynch had one rein wrapped around his fist, the leather taut as he fought for control, the other horse threatening to rear…
Miles lunged, grabbed the loose rein and planted his feet, allowing the horses to buck but not rear.
“Catch!” he shouted above the cacophony. “I’ll get the lad.” At Lynch’s nod, he flung the rein over, Lynch grasping it inone hand. The two bays whinnied, hooves stamping, but Miles scrambled to the lad and dragged him from harm, a shod hoof thundering to the ground not a moment later.
Breath heaving, rain plastering his hair, Miles stayed crouched in the mud of the lane. “Easy now,” he murmured, pressing a dirt-streaked hand to the lad’s cheek, checking his matted hair for bloo–
“Ow!” came a grunt. “Me blasted head.”
Miles exhaled, found a wound. “What else hurts? Can you sit?”
As quickly as it had arrived, the rain began to lessen and Daniel heaved himself up, licking his lips. “Aye, I’m whole as a nut.”
Miles sat back on his haunches with a smile. “Maybe so, but steady.”
“The horses!” He scrambled to rise but Miles caught him by the shoulder.
“They’re fine. Spooked but fine.” They both twisted to Lynch whose lips were whispering as he worked his magic and although their wide eyes still rolled with fright, hinds quivering, their hooves remained grounded.
