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At the fork at the end of the road, Myles slowed down. He looked back one last time only to curse loudly as he watched the same line of people slow to a halt and stop several feet away. They had been following him silently, still in a line, on foot.
“You are trespassing,” he snapped loudly enough for them to hear. It was grossly unnerving to talk to several hooded figures, all carrying lanterns, all totally silent, but his voice didn’t betray any of his deep concern. It was as full of aristocratic demand as he could make it.
“I will have you arrested for trespassing on private property. I suggest you fools go home and stop playing games with innocent villagers.” Myles wished he could see their faces, but had no doubt they were locals. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.
Strangely, none of the figures tried to approach or answered him. Myles suspected it was because they knew he would recognise their voices. Instead, they all continued to stand in a line and silently stare at him. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask them what they wanted, but he knew. He glanced down at the woman in his arms. It was her they were after.
“Just as soon as this damned fog clears, I will be coming back with help and will put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. You will be found, and you will face jail for this. For God sakes, go home,” he snapped.
Deep inside, in spite of his bravery, something was warning him to get home, to safety. He tried to dismiss the nagging memories of the rumours and folklore about the woods he had grown up with. He had considered it all to be stuff and nonsense, but now he knew better. If he had suspected, even for a second, that the rumours of the Whispering Woods being home to a band of ghostly figures haunting people out of the area to protect the ruins of the priory were true, Myles would have come to investigate earlier. But he had never believed a word of the here say, nor considered that the locals’ warnings were modern. He had confined them to a part of the local history that didn’t affect him. But this did affect him, very much.
“I think you have a few things to tell me,” he murmured gently, his voice betraying a hint of steel. The sight of the ghostly figures made his decision about what to do with her considerably easier.
&nbs
p; Throwing the people, and he knew they were people not ghosts, one last dismissive glare, Myles flicked the horses on again, harder this time, and didn’t attempt to slow them down again, not even when they lurched into a fast trot. Even the horses seemed unnerved by the strange atmosphere in the area, and were eager to get home. Myles also suspected that they knew where they were, and so didn’t bother to guide them as they raced toward sanctuary.
It didn’t occur to him to take the other fork in the road that would take him to the village when they reached it. As far as he was concerned now, Estelle wasn’t safe being left even with the doctor in the village. The safest place he knew of was right beside him. Given that she wasn’t awake enough to protest, he hurried home, but could only pray that she wasn’t too badly injured, or would suffer as a result of the lack of proper medical care.
“I will keep you safe, I promise,” he whispered, although had no idea why he was talking to her because she couldn’t hear him. So far, she had yet to even twitch.
As he was about to turn off the road altogether, he looked back at the road, expecting to see the hooded figures where he had left them. To his consternation, there was no sign of them. Everything was surrounded by fog, of course, but even so, the lights had vanished.
“Now, that’s unusual,” he murmured, wondering where they had gone, and how they had managed to see without the lights in the fog.
Hopefully, whoever they were had gone home. Somehow, though, he doubted it. Anybody who had ventured out on a night like this wouldn’t just wander off home again after being told to do so by someone who was passing through, even though he owned they land they stood on.
Warning himself there was nothing he could do about them now, Myles turned toward home and didn’t bother to look back again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Estelle slowly became aware of the sensation of moving only she knew that she wasn’t walking. Everything was decidedly strange. She felt as though she was floating and couldn’t bring herself back down to earth. She tried to frown but her head ached in violent protest. So much so that she began to feel sick. At some point in the far off distance she could hear someone talking to her but couldn’t understand what was being said. The words seemed to be carried on waves, and ebbed and flowed as rhythmically as the sea.
Now, why would I think about the sea? She tried to clear her head enough to understand where she was, but her thoughts couldn’t break through the thick fog.
Fog. Fog. There is something about fog I should remember.
When she tried to recall why, a deep sense of being afraid swept through her. At first, it was so faint she ignored it, but it built swiftly and drew forth such a ruthless fear that she began to moan as she fought to stop it from encompassing her. Suddenly free, she wrenched her eyes open and tried to sit up only to find herself encased in strong arms that prevented her from falling. Helpless, she gazed up at the man staring down at her, his brow furrowed with deep concern.
“Easy now,” Myles soothed. “It won’t be long now.”
“Y-You!” Estelle gasped. She stared at the man whom she had thought about often over the past several days. Was he a figment of her imagination? She lifted one shaking hand to tentatively touch the side of his face to see for herself if it was just her imagination. He couldn’t be this close, could he? Was he really looking down at her with such tenderness in his eyes?
“You are real,” she whispered when all other words failed her.
“Of course I am,” he replied with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It couldn’t because he was held captive by the slumberous confusion in her startling blue eyes. Or at least, he thought they were blue. Given the poor light, he couldn’t be sure whether they were blue or green. Either way, they were hypnotic. So much so that he forgot he was supposed to be driving the curricle – until it bounced into a particularly deep rut in the road and threatened to overspill them.
“I am sorry,” he murmured, turning his attention to the road again; for a few moments at least.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded shakily as she glanced around them but didn’t recognise where they were. “Where are we?”
Myles suspected she had hit her head hard to have forgotten where she was. A head injury would also account for her sleepiness and confusion.
“You are in Stredley Fallows. Don’t you remember?” he asked tenderly.
Estelle attempted to shake her head but immediately regretted it. She winced when a white hot shaft of pain lanced up the back of her head, and bit her lip to stop herself from crying out in pain.
“Is it the back of your head?” he murmured, watching her touch her wild tangle of curls behind her ear. “Don’t prod it, it will hurt even more.”
