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Just as Celia hit a level stretch of dirt and rock, a sudden loud popping exploded in the air. The mare leaped forward, almost unseating her, and she just barely managed to cling to the neck, the coarse mane whipping against her face as the horse bolted down the narrow stretch of beach.
She was only vaguely aware of Carolyn’s open mouth and shocked fa
ce as she swept past her, the words obliterated by the rushing wind in her ears. A sense of panic kept her clutching the damp neck, her fingers tangled in reins and the mane.
How had this happened? God, everything was going so fast and she couldn’t stop the horse. Nothing was working as it should, not pulling on the reins or shouting—she was sure she was shouting, but heard only wind and the pounding rush of white-laced waves against the shore. Hot tears stung her eyes from the wind, the white cliffs at her side were a blur and the smell of sea and dirt rose around her as she sawed at the reins.
The pounding beat of the horse didn’t slow, and she felt her grip loosening. A terrified scream locked in her throat as a solid white wall loomed just ahead. Oh God, she would never be able to turn the horse.…
Everything was such a blur as terror and desperation prodded her into dangerous choices—leap, or risk being thrown against that wall? The stark chalk was broken up slightly by something dark against it, a movement like a shadow over the pale surface. Recognition struck, giving her sudden courage.
Afterward, she could never quite recall just how it had happened, but suddenly she was free of the horse, abruptly and gratefully on solid ground again, her brutally rough fall cushioned by unyielding arms and a gruff voice in her ear.
“Christ, do you want to get killed!”
Northington.
The impact of her body against his took him to his knees, slamming them both against the ground. He grunted harshly.
“Stay down!” His sharp order was accompanied by his hand spread against the back of her head, crushing the ridiculous looking bonnet she wore. When she gave an angry gasp, he clamped an arm around her waist to hold her, his mouth against her ear as he grated out an order.
“I said stay down! Do you want to get us both killed? Don’t you hear that?” He held her next to him and behind the shelter of a knobby rock.
“Hear…hear what! I don’t hear anything but you—oh!”
Another shot rang out, this time the bullet smacking into the wall behind them, spraying chalky splinters through the air like snowfall. She threw herself to the ground immediately.
“Apparently you heard that one,” he muttered, cursing softly beneath his breath. “Christ, a devil of a fix to be in, and you aren’t helping any. Where the hell did you come from? And why?”
Frightened green eyes stared up at him through the mess of her disheveled bonnet and hair.
“I…the horse bolted. Is someone shooting at us?”
“You’re more astute than you look right now. Yes, and I’m damned if I know who or why. At least your cousin had enough sense to know to retreat instead of riding right into the middle of some kind of battle. Be still! You’ve got rock on your face.”
He picked off a shard of pale rock, saw her flinch beneath his touch and smiled grimly. “Fine time to be scared. Why didn’t you go the other way like Carolyn?”
“I told you, my horse bolted!” She shoved at him, and indignation welled in her eyes. “This wasn’t my choice!”
“It’s not mine, either.” He drew his pistol from his belt, saw Celia’s eyes widen as he put his hand on her shoulder to keep her behind the rock. “Watch your head. Stay here until I get back.”
“Where are you going?” She clutched at him, fright replacing the anger in her eyes. “Oh, don’t leave me if someone’s shooting at us!”
“You’re safer here. I don’t intend to spend the night waiting for them to go away. Christ, Celia, do you think I want to risk one hair on that pretty head of yours? Do as I ask without argument. There’s no time for this.”
Though her clamped lips quivered slightly, she gave a terse nod of her head to indicate acquiescence. A slight grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Little cat, she had sense enough not to argue too much. He hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when she’d come barreling toward him across the rocky beach, halfway off the gray mare he could have sworn was still too green to be ridden.
He left her behind the rock. The shots had come from the mouth of a cave that opened into the Straits. Keeping close to the chalk cliff at his back, he moved along the edge in a crouching run. The shooting had stopped.
Sea spume dampened his face and clothes when he got close to the cave opening, the roar loud and inexorable. A tide line was visible on the white face of the chalky crag just above his head. On the other side of the churning seawater that had cut this cave into the cliff thousands of years before, a track spiraled upward, accessible only when the tide was out.
Now there was barely room for him to make his way on a narrow ledge, his boots slipping a little on damp chalk that broke off if he trod too close to the edge. It was dark, dank inside this cave, the soft sticky bottom of the floor showing evidence of recent passage.
Visibility deep inside the cave was impenetrable; he felt along the wall, and encountered high up on a ledge several wood and leather trunks that deserved a return visit with torches. Whoever had left these here had decided not to risk being seen. The cave echoed emptily.
Sticking his pistol back into his belt, he raked a hand through his damp hair and swore softly. No point in trying to follow them now, especially when he was saddled with Celia. He needed to get her back to the house, and find out what the hell she was doing out here.
It could be just coincidence that she’d shown up at the same time he’d seen trespassers, men who didn’t mind shooting at him, but the string of coincidences was growing far too long.
