AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Bastard. He had learned to accept and ignore that word, to treat it with amusement. But for some reason it had stung more from her lips than the flat of her hand on his cheek had done
He should seek her out and apologise. Hell. If he did, then she would either slap his face again or she would be all too forgiving and…and might kiss him again with that delicious mixture of innocent sensuality and fire.
No. Too dangerous. Concentrate on work and forget one provoking and unaccountably intriguing woman who, it was becoming painfully clear, he did not understand. She was no schoolroom miss—she would soon forget it, or at least pretend to.
He reined in as the grey reached the earthworks that marked the base of the old windmill. From here there was a fine view north over the lakes to the Gothic folly and, stretching south along the edge of the woodland, an avenue of trees leading to his destination, the Hill House.
The avenue stretched wide and smooth, perfect for a gallop. Giles gathered up the reins, then stopped at the sound of a faint shriek. A bird of prey? A vixen? He stood in his stirrups and scanned the parkland. There was nothing to be seen.
‘Help!’ It was faint, but it was clear and repeated, coming from the direction of the lakes. A woman’s voice. Giles dragged the gelding’s head round and spurred down the slope, heedless of wet grass, mud and thorn bushes. The deep stock ditch opened up before them and the grey gathered his hocks under him and leapt, then they were thundering down towards the lake.
As Giles reined in on the flat before the dam he could see no signs of life—only a bonnet and pelisse lying discarded at the water’s edge.
There were footprints in the mud, small woman’s prints, and a disturbance, bubbles, below the centre of the bridge where the rail was broken. Giles flung himself out of the saddle, wrenched off his coat and boots and strode into the lake. The muddy water churned and two figures broke the surface for a few moments, the larger flailing desperately towards the bridge supports, the smaller limp in her grasp before they sank again. Lady Isobel and Lizzie.
It took a dozen strokes to reach them. Giles put his head down and dived under, groped through the muddy water and touched a hand, so cold that for a moment he thought it was a fish. He kicked and broke the surface hauling the dead weight of both woman and child after him.
‘Take her,’ Isobel gasped as they broke the surface and she thrust the child’s body into his reaching arms. When he tried to take hold of her too, she resisted. ‘No, there’s weed tangled round her. I couldn’t…You’ll need both hands to pull her free.’
Treading water, Giles wrenched and tugged and the slight body was suddenly floating in his arms. ‘Hang on!’ he ordered Isobel as though he could keep her afloat by sheer force of will. He towed Lizzie back to the shore, dumped her without ceremony and turned back to Isobel. She had vanished.
CHAPTER FIVE
NUMB, SHAKING WITH cold and fear for Isobel, Giles launched himself back into the water in a shallow dive. She was beyond struggling now as he caught one slender wrist and pulled her, gasping and choking, back to the surface again.
As soon as they reached the shallows she managed to raise herself on hands and knees and shake off his hold. ‘Go and see if she’s breathing. Help her—I can manage.’
Giles stumbled to the shore and dragged Lizzie farther up onto the grass, turned her over his knee and slapped her hard between the shoulder blades. ‘Co
me on, breathe!’ She coughed, retched up quantities of muddy water, then began to cry.
‘Lizzie, it is all right, Mr Harker rescued us,’ a hoarse voice croaked beside him. ‘Come here now, don’t cry.’ Somehow Isobel had crawled up the bank to gather the child in her arms, petting and soothing. ‘There, there. We’ll get you home safe to your mama, don’t worry.’
Giles found his coat and wrapped it round them. Lady Isobel’s hair hung in filthy sodden curtains around her face, her walking dress clung like a wet blanket to her limbs and she was shuddering with cold, but her voice was steady as she looked up at him. ‘Please, go for help, Mr Harker.’ She dragged the coat off her own shoulders and around the child.
He stared at her for a moment, a bedraggled, exhausted Madonna, somehow the image of desperate motherhood and feminine courage. ‘Felix will take all of us at a walk, it will be faster.’ He dragged on his boots and unsaddled the gelding to make room for the three of them. ‘Let me get you up first, then I’ll hand Lizzie to you. Can you manage?’
Lady Isobel let him drag her to her feet, then boost her onto the horse. She ignored the display of bare flesh as her skirts rode up her legs and held out her hands to steady Lizzie as the child was put in front of her. Giles vaulted up behind.
Felix, well trained and willing, plodded up the slope with his burden while Giles tried to hold Isobel and Lizzie steady as their shivering increased. Through his own wet shirt he could feel how cold Lady Isobel was growing, but she did not complain. He could hear her murmuring reassurance to Lizzie, the words blurred as she tried to control her chattering teeth.
‘Thank God you can swim,’ he said as the house came in sight. He steered Felix towards the service wing where there would be plenty of strong hands to help.
‘I c-can’t.’
‘Then why the hell did you go in?’ Giles demanded, his voice roughened with shock.
‘I th-thought I might be able to reach her if I held on to the bridge supports. She did not c-come up, you see. By the time I had got to the house and brought help she would have drowned. But the bottom shelved and I was out of my depth—as I went down I found her.’ She broke off, coughed, and he did his best to support her until the racking spasms ceased. ‘I untangled enough of the weed to push us up to the surface, but then I could not keep us there.’
Every other female of his acquaintance would have stood on the lakeside and screamed helplessly while the child drowned. ‘Isobel, that was very brave.’
She did not react to the way he addressed her—she was probably beyond noticing such things. ‘There didn’t seem to be any other option—she was my responsibility.’ The retort held a ghost of her tart rejoinders of the night before and Giles smiled with numb lips even as a pang of shame reminded him how easily he had judged this woman.
She seemed to slump and Giles tightened his arms around them. ‘Steady now.’ Isobel let her head fall back on his shoulder and she leaned against him as though seeking for the slight heat he could give her. He wanted to rip off their clothes, hold her against his bare flesh to force his remaining warmth into her. ‘Almost there now, my brave girl.’
As they rode into the yard the boot boy gawped, a scullery maid dropped an armload of kindling, but one of the footmen ran forwards shouting, ‘Here! Everyone—quick—and bring blankets! Hurry!’
Hands reached for Lizzie and Isobel and he let them be taken before he threw a leg over Felix’s withers, dropped to the ground and ran to find the countess.
