“It’s like standing too close to the railing of a ship. It makes me dizzy, and I…”
“You’re afraid,” he said softly.
She swallowed. “The ocean took my mother. She fell in, and the weather turned. The current just…They couldn’t save her.”
“I’m sorry. That’s awful.” He wished he could help ease her fears. “Anyone would have a horror.”
She nodded.
“Do you want to turn back?”
She shook her head.
“Then we must keep going,” he said gently. He wished there was another way. “I promise, we’re notthatclose to the water. Not close enough to fall in. There’s at least two feet between us and…”
Kunigunde looked as though she might pass out. Or vomit.
“It’s a river, not the open sea,” Graham tried again, coaxingly. “And a shallow one, at that. The Bealbrook isn’t more than six or eight feet at its deepest. We could swim across.”
“I can’t swim.”
“All right, well…you won’t have to. You’re riding Sheepshanks, who is a trained professional. Not only will he keep to the path without straying, but in the event you would want him to cross the river, he could jump it in a single bound.” He patted the horse’s neck, just above the leather saddlebags. “These two could leap from bank to bank all day if they wanted.”
“I don’t want him to,” she said quickly. “Tell him not to do that.”
Graham considered her. His big, strong warrioress’s fear of the water was not entirely logical. But then, who had ever reacted to a loved one’s death with logic? Instead of seeking safety after his mother’s death, Graham had responded by bringing his act out-of-doors, leaping from rooftops instead of wooden beams, every new situation more dangerous than the last.
He could not fault Kunigunde for choosing caution. Or for being afraid of the thing that had taken her mother’s life.
“Sheepshanks,” Graham said to her horse. “You’re to stay on the path at all times. Theinsidepath. Charlie and I will take the side nearest the river. Under no circumstances are any of us to venture any closer to the water. Is that understood?”
He made the subtle hand sign that prompted both horses to nod and whinny on cue.
The sound seemed to snap Kunigunde from her trance. Or perhaps it was the promise that Graham—and Sheepshanks—would not allow danger to befall her.
“You’re right.” She rolled back her shoulders. “I can manage this. Iammanaging this. Here I go, managing with aplomb.”
Sheepshanks trotted forward to join Charlie on the riding path.
Graham launched into a steady patter, keeping Kunigunde’s gaze on his rather than on the river beside them. By the time they’d traveled two miles, Kunigunde had…well, notrelaxed, entirely, but at least seemed more like her normal self.
“I’m a soldier,” she assured him, clearly embarrassed he’d witnessed any vulnerability. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will,” he answered. “When we arrive at the Durbridge residence, you tether Charlie and Sheepshanks to the trees while I walk up to the house.”
Her lips twitched. “Walk? Or shimmy up the side of it?”
He widened his eyes. “I’ll slide down the chimney very subtly.”
“Perfect. They’ll never notice a handsome rogue with—Look!” Kunigunde pointed up ahead at a dirt path marked with tall, white wooden posts. “That must be Rose Manor. We’re here!”
He grinned at her, his blood already flowing with anticipation.
It was time to steal back the stolen funds.
34
Graham and Kunigunde guided the horses down the path toward the house until they found a clearing where their mounts could be tied to a tree without being visible from the river or from the residence.
