“Annista—” Alan’s voice came harsh. “I do no’ think—”
“Help me. Help me!”
“We tried before—”
“We will try again!”
Heedless of him, she urged the horse up. Tempest raised his head and, even as Alan edged around to his other side, made an effort to get to his feet. One try, and he was too weak for it. Two—
Alan had his shoulder against that of the horse. Annista applied her own on the other side, half sobbing all the while. Please.Please.
Tempest rose. It felt like a mountain moving against Annista’s cheek which she kept against his hide. He heaved breaths now, and she threw her arms around his neck, holding on as if her slight strength could augment his own.
The stallion, who in the past could have thrown her off like a feather, stood and accepted the fervent embrace. Annista felt bonds forming between them even though—
He was not her horse.
He was Evan’s horse.
The monster.
Tempest trembled, and so did Annista. But the horse stood firm.
“Wha’s this, then?” Billy bobbed up outside the door of the stall as if he’d materialized there. His eyes widened as he saw the horse on its hooves.
“Ye got him up? By God, I thought he’d be gone the morning.”
“Ye were wrong then,” Annista told him. She’d not been about to let the horse perish, and almost felt like she’d got him up by sheer will.
She and her husband had.
She looked at Alan over Tempest’s back. He looked as profoundly shaken as she felt.
“Now that he’s up,” she said to the aged groom, “we canna let him go down again.”
“Aye, so. I’ll ha’ Angus bring him some feed and stay wi’ him.” Billy eyed Annista up and down. “Mistress, why d’ye no’ go and get somewhat to eat? ’Tis near mornin’.”
Annista took stock of herself. Covered head to foot with straw, her hair half tumbled down and wild. She must appear a mess to Alan.
Did she care?
She said, “Someone must stand guard.”
“Aye, so. The lads will be down any moment. We will be here.”
“Come along, Annista.” Alan, still not entirely trusting of Tempest, edged from the box and held out his hand. “Billy will call for us if we are needed.”
Annista did not take his hand, but she followed him out into the daylight, which showed weak and gray. Even as they emerged from the stable, raindrops began to fall, big splashes that dotted the ground.
“Come.”
Alan headed her in through the back door of the house where Cook and the kitchen maids were already astir and on duty. Down the corridor to the front hall, which lay silent and steeped in gloom.
“I will go wash,” she said. “Change my clothing.”
“Aye, me as well.”
She ran up the stairs ahead of him, feeling the weariness weigh upon her. Her chamber lay dark and silent.
