Page 70 of A Duke in Her Fate
Old memories were coming to mind. He squinted through the rain fall. Was there any more lightening? Was the rain letting up? Perhaps the worst of it was over. Still, it felt dark. Cold and dark just like that night he had come upon the wreckage…
“Hiya!” Ronan pushed his horse faster, hoping he could outrun fate.
They made it down the lane and around the hill. Another hill had to be climbed, where his horse slowed down, before finally thelake came into view. More horrible images came to mind––and one appeared before him.
Slowing his horse, he forced calm after spotting gray between a few trees. He recognized that hide. Pearl. He was fond of the pretty horse, who was too spirited in his view to do anything with. The expenses weren’t a concern and he was happy to let her live here as she desired, unwilling to change a thing about her.
Except now. He was never letting another saddle on her. Grasping the reins, he paused to collect his breath.
“Where is she?” Ronan asked, even knowing the horses couldn’t answer him. He turned about slowly keeping his eyes peeled. If he wasn’t careful, his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. He needed to slow down but couldn’t. Not until he found her. Isla had to be nearby. He had to help her. “She has to be… has to be somewhere.”
But where? Panic clawed at him from the ground up, threatening to bury him alive. Ronan fixed the reins from Pearl to his saddle and nudged them along. If she was here, then perhaps Isla was nearby.
They would have taken this same trail toward the lake. Ronan aimed to think logically about this. He brushed back his damp hair, curling about his forehead now, and glanced warily at the lake. If he couldn’t find her soon, he would empty the entire thing.
Soon the trees gave way to flowers and shrubs alongside the lake. The trail continued there over the uneven ground. It wasn’t the best trail for riding, though the view was splendid. One would have to be careful to watch for the pitfalls and be mindful of their horse. Especially during a storm…
A splotch of red caught his eye. Ronan’s breath caught.
Fabric, he realized with mild relief. It was fabric. Surely that was Isla. He nudged the horses into action at once so they rounded the bushes to the tall grass. The moment he was close enough, he slid from the saddle.
Thank god its her.
“Isla? Isla!” He fell down at her side. She was fallen on her side and didn’t flinch when he touched her.
Ronan moved quickly after gently turning her onto her back. Isla had never appeared paler. Her eyes didn’t open, and worry stretched into something worse.
Running his hands lightly over her body, he felt around for any broken limbs or blood. Was she still breathing? He put an ear to her lips and felt her breath tickle him ever so slightly. She was alive, but unconscious. It wasn’t until he was brushing her hair over her shoulder that she groaned.
Her eyes didn’t open but it encouraged him to be careful. He soon found the blood behind her ear. It wasn’t still bleedingfrom what he could tell, but he knew how fragile a head injury could be for someone.
Glancing back, he noted some large stones on the edge of the path. One of them looked darker in the rain than the others. His stomach clenched and he pulled Isla close in his arms.
“Isla? Isla, it’s going to be all right,” Ronan told her as he tried to reassure himself of the same. “I’m going to take care of you, do you hear? You will be well. You will. Just keep breathing for me.”
He cradled her tight in his arms, somehow managing to get them both into the saddle. It was a difficult race back to the stables that he hardly recalled. But they did it. He did it.
“Good lord!” Two stable boys were by the backdoor when he arrived, having led the horses all the way there. “What happened?”
Ronan didn’t care to entertain them. “Find the nearest physician. Now! Where is Hobbes?” He hollered on his way inside.
The butler was right there in the hall, his face pale and eyes wide open as Ronan hurried in. “Oh dear.” But Hobbes was there for him in every crisis. “Her maid is up in her chamber now. We’ll fetch more linens and heating pans, and I shall meet you there, Your Grace.”
“Then go!” He shouted.
As Hobbes went one way, Ronan took the other. Isla had yet to wake. How serious her injury was, he couldn’t say. It was all he could think about. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his way through the closed door of her bed chamber, ignoring the gasp of her maid.
There was movement all over the place. Chambermaids had followed him, bringing in more wood to heat up the room. More linens. A tea set. Anything they might need and everything else, too.
He finally took a deep breath before gently setting Isla down on the bed, her body limp and fragile in his arms. His eyes roamed over her figure before returning to her face––he had to be certain she still breathed.
Faintly. But she lived still.
“Your Grace?” Her maid queried weakly. “We must disrobe her at once to help with the chill.”
“Very well.” Down on one knee, he worked opposite of the maid while he removed Isla’s boots and stockings. He kept her modesty in tack for the most part, only looking up to her knees to her toes in search of any more bruising. There was swelling to her right knee that he hadn’t noticed previously, and Doreen’s gasp had him looking up to find a matching bruise on Isla’s shoulder. He swore deeply. “She must have fallen hard. There is bleeding behind her ear as well.”
One of the maids hurried over with a tonic and bandage. Isla’s lady maid snatched everything up quickly––better it was her, Ronan realized as he looked down to find his hands shaking.
