His duty lay elsewhere.
He met Billy, who seemed to have taken up the post in his absence, at the stable door.
“The young master has gone missing,” he told the old man, and saw alarm flare in his rheumy eyes. “Ye ken wha’ that means. He may return here, try to finish wi’ Tempest.”
“’Twill no’ tak’ much. In my opinion, that horse will ne’er get up again.”
“The injuries are so severe as that?”
“’Tis no’ the injuries so much as the blow to his spirit.” Billy frowned. “The young mistress,” he jerked his head within, “does no’ agree. She swears she’ll get him up.”
The young mistress. Aye, so Alan supposed Annista was.
“Leave her to it, for now.”
“I can scarce do aught else. ’Tis no’ a young lady I would care to cross.”
Nay, indeed.
“Have ye had yer breakfast?” he asked the groom.
“Aye, long since.”
“Then see to your other chores, and leave her be, the while.”
Billy nodded, ducking back inside. An odd sort of silence fell.
Alan stood, arms crossed, back to the door, and wondered where his brother might be. Let his mind rove all the places. Like him, Evan had lived here all his life. Like him, he’d have found spots, hidey holes.
Did he have a woman somewhere? Doubtful, or they’d have heard of it. Doubtful also that he’d gone to the village. If he had done, the men would soon know.
Could he face off successfully against his brother, as he’d assured Annista, if Evan came storming back here? Doubtful also. Only, he could not let himself admit it.
He needed to protect the stallion inside. He needed to protect the woman inside. No matter what it cost him.
The certainty of that flowed through him. He might well have failed in the past, through avoidance. May have failed to protect poor Robena.
He could not fail again.
The sun rose high in a milky sky that promised rain later on. The men Father had sent out did not return. Women crept out from the house on various errands and stared at the stable. One of them might have been Annista’s little maid, but she quickly withdrew.
Eventually Alan tiptoed into the stable past Chieftain, who danced a little, picking up on the tension in the air, and on to peer over the half door of Tempest’s stall.
The big stallion was still down. Annista was also, in a pool of amber-colored skirts, her hand on the horse’s neck, her head bent over him.
Hearing the scrape of Alan’s boot, she looked up and he saw her face was streaked with dirt and tears.
Their gazes met and held for what seemed an eternity.
****
Annista expected to see Billy when she glanced up. The aged groom had been by several times, unable quite to keep away. She did not blame him. Herself, she was unable to leave her post.
When she saw Alan standing there, she underwent a swift change of feelings. Swiped at her cheeks. She did not want Alan to see she’d been weeping, lest he think she shed tears out of weakness. These were shed in anger.
It did not occur to her it might be Evan returned, till she glimpsed the size of him. The head of ruffled dark hair reassured her, if only momentarily.
“Is he coming?” she started up in alarm. “Evan?”
