The horse shifted only fractionally.
Nicholas waited, fearing some unhelpful reaction, but after a moment, the horse glanced sideways and around, then thrust his head forward, tugging on the rein.
Nicholas exhaled, loosened the rein a trifle more, and gently tapped his heels to The Barbarian’s glossy sides.
The horse obediently set off, walking with his long-legged gait toward the fence at the top of the slope.
From midway across the field, Nicholas saw the next gate, set as the other had been, close by the corner formed by the walls, and realized why Adriana had been thrown. “You decided to jump that other wall, didn’t you? And she wasn’t strong enough or didn’t have time to rein you in.”
Managing this horse with a single rein wouldn’t have been easy, even for Nicholas.
He tightened his grip on the rein, just in case the horse decided to try jumping again. But how was he going to manage the gate? He didn’t like his chances of leaning sideways, not while juggling Adriana. The last thing he wanted to do was drop her on the ground.
As they approached the gate, he reluctantly concluded that, given the wall across the field wasn’t as thick as the wall on the side, he would have to take the risk and lean down to the latch. It was that or lay Adriana down on the top of the side wall, open the gate, come back for her, go through the gate, leave her on the top of the wall on the gate’s other side, then close the gate against the flock of sheep who were following, clearly hoping for escape, before picking Adriana up again.
“And hoping all the while that you”—he addressed the horse—will behave.”
He really didn’t like his chances.
They were almost to the gate when Dickie strode up to it, looked over, and saw them. “Thank God!”
“Indeed,” Nicholas feelingly replied.
“I was almost back to the churchyard when I thought I heard you call. As I couldn’t see you in the group there, I came back to search.” Concern etched Dickie’s face as he took in his sister’s limp form. “What happened?” His gaze flicked to The Barbarian. “I can barely credit that the beast is letting you ride him.”
While Dickie opened the gate, let them through, then shut the sheep in again, Nicholas told him what he assumed must have happened. “I’m suitably grateful that The Barbarian consented to carry us both.”
Dickie huffed and, as Nicholas set The Barbarian walking again, fell to pacing alongside. “All of that sounds very like Addie and this beast, too. He’s quite devoted to her, but he can be entirely unpredictable when he kicks up his heels.”
They walked steadily across the fields toward the church.
“The others must all be back by now,” Dickie said.
From The Barbarian’s back, Nicholas could see the cluster of figures gathered near the horses and curricle. Although twilight had fallen, there was sufficient illumination to be able to count heads and see faces once they were close enough.
Even though sounds carried easily in the country quiet, none of those waiting noticed them as they plodded across the darkened field. The grooms, stablemen, and Sally were too engrossed watching Phillip, Viola, and Nigel Devenish tearing strips off Kirkwood and Wisthorpe.
Nicholas battled back a grin at one of Nigel’s more colorful threats, then his gaze fell to Adriana’s face, and all tendency to levity fled. She hadn’t stirred. While he was fairly certain she’d been simply knocked unconscious, he needed to see her open her eyes and hear her speak again before the vise clamped about his chest would unlock.
Finally, Viola saw them. A hand flew to her lips, then she tugged forcefully on Phillip’s sleeve and, when he glanced at her, pointed at the small group in the field. Phillip and Nigel stopped their haranguing and looked.
As everyone took in the sight—and its implications—even from a distance, Nicholas sensed the geysering, intensifying fury that erupted within the group’s members, directed at Kirkwood and Wisthorpe.
Nigel swung to face the pair and stabbed a finger at them. “You’d better pray Lady Adriana recovers soon and has taken no lasting hurt.”
The furious menace in his voice had Kirkwood and Wisthorpe freezing.
With everyone’s gazes returning to the figure in Nicholas’s arms, Viola and Phillip rushed to open the nearest gate.
Sally hurried to join them as The Barbarian walked out of the field and into the churchyard and obediently halted. In a distant part of his brain, Nicholas could barely believe how obligingly docile the temperamental horse had been.
With his senses relocking on Adriana, he managed to maneuver and hand her down into Phillip’s and Dickie’s arms. As Nicholas’s hands slid from her, she stirred, and his heart leapt—in hope, in earnest fervent yearning.
He slid down from The Barbarian’s back. Experience had him pausing to stroke the horse’s long nose in appreciation and thanks. Only then did he realize how rigid his features were; they literally felt carved from stone, as if they might never soften.
He gave The Barbarian’s rein to Dickie, then ducked around the horse to where Phillip had laid Adriana down on a patch of thick grass. Viola and Sally were crouched beside her. Sally had removed Adriana’s hat and now flapped it at her face while Viola waved smelling salts under Adriana’s nose.
As Nicholas watched, with her eyes still closed, Adriana raised a hand and batted away the small bottle. “Eh! I hate that stuff.”
