The wind kicked up, the clouds hiding the moon. There was a hill up ahead. Maybe if she walked to the top she could see the surrounding area. With the dress held high so it wouldn’t get dirty, she carefully made her way up the hill. The boots had cost a fortune, but were worth every penny. The Welsh countrysidemight throw mud on her, but she was getting out of this country if it was the last thing she did.
At the top of the hill, she turned in a circle, but there was only countryside and more countryside in every direction. In vain she looked for a sign, even using the camera on her phone to zoom in, but it was too dark. Today was not her day. Ignoring the warning signs, she hiked up the ruins to see if she could get at least one bar on the useless phone.
Startled by a sound like two cars colliding at high speed, she spun around. But there weren’t any cars. For that matter, no trains or people or other big vehicles that might have been responsible for the noise.
Funny, it almost sounded like a battle like in the video games Mitch plays when he thinks no one is around.The stress of being late was making her imagine things.
The scene in front of her had turned gray. Fog was rolling in and quickly. The sound of thunder made her jump, and lightning flashed across the night sky.
Great—you don’t do camping, no dirt, and definitely no more traipsing around the countryside.It’s time to get out of here.
Lightning flashed again as she made her way down the ruins and the hill, careful not to slip. Up ahead there was another flash of light, and she saw something sparkle in the weeds. Ashley braced herself on the side of the hill, her back foot pressed into the ground and her other leg bent as she leaned down to brush the withered brown stalks and dirt away. The smell of ozone filled the air. Lightning flashed again. The object looked like gold.
She cringed as dirt lodged under her nails as she pried the object out of the ground.
“Ouch.” Ashley dug deep into the ground and came up with a fistful of dirt containing something hard, as a drop of blood welled up on her wrist.
The sneezes came three in a row, and all of a sudden the hair that was tickling her nose, the pieces Mary had so artfully curledaround her face, were sticking straight out. A hum ran through her body like the sound of big electrical wires.
The ground rumbled; Ashley sneezed again and lost her balance, rolling down the hill, skirts tangling around her legs as the crazy thought went through her mind that the beautiful dress was going to be ruined. In trying to stop the momentum, her leg hit something sharp, and pain sliced through her thigh.
Cold and wet, she came to as the scene in front of her spun round and round. With a swallow, she closed her eyes and tried again. The ground slowly came to a stop. Swaying, she managed to stay upright until she took the first step, slipped on a stone, and fell again, rolling down the bank toward the sound of water. Something shifted, and the phone went airborne.
“No!” The phone hit what sounded like stone, and then there was a sickening splash, confirming the device’s watery death.
Don’t panic. It’s water resistant, so it’s okay.
Flat on her stomach, she scooted forward, blindly patting the ground until she touched water. Pushing up her sleeves, she took a deep breath. The water was icy cold as she felt around, and for the first time since she’d landed in this godforsaken country, something had gone right. The phone had somehow wedged between two rocks. Numb from the icy water, she dried the phone off on her dress and sent up a plea to whoever might be listening.
But the screen was cracked and wouldn’t turn on. Her entire life was in that phone. Then she smiled. Everything was backed up to the cloud. She’d find a shop and buy a new phone, and while she was there, she’d find out how to rent a freaking helicopter to get her to the party on time. Were the stores even open this late?
Between the moon winking in and out of the clouds and the lightning, she was able to find her way to the car. Where was the bridge she’d driven over? The stream was there, but no bridge. But bridges didn’t move.
Ashley spun in a circle. There was the tree she’d parked under. Except the car was no longer there. Her luggage, laptop, and thepurse containing her money and passport. All gone. The night was playing tricks on her. Lightning flashed as she stared at the tree. But no car.
“The damn car’s been stolen.” All the frustration of the trip poured out of her as she screamed until her throat hurt. Taking a deep breath, she stared at the moon and the shifting clouds until she calmed. The sign must have been a fake to lure unsuspecting tourists to be robbed. Fine. She’d flag someone down and be on her way. When she got another phone, there was a picture of her passport, and she could use the pay function on the phone to buy whatever she needed. Take that, thieves.
But as Ashley sat on a stone wall making plans, something shifted, and the wall gave way as she scrambled to grab on to anything to stop her fall. Pain sliced through her thigh again as a chunk of rock slammed into her. Somehow she grabbed on to a piece of stone and held tight, but with a grating noise it too gave way and the muscles in her throat clenched, nausea rolling through her as a fingernail shredded. The deluge of rain made everything slippery, and it was no use. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t hold on. Ashley fell.
CHAPTER 8
“Rememberthe old passage from the cellar that leads to the river?” Christian looked to both his men, who nodded as they rode out of the tavern.
“If anyone asks, tell them ’tis good to have another escape route in case of attack.”
There was an old entrance that had not been used as long as he could remember. Christian had heard his grandfather speak of the passage being used for smuggling back in his day.
“Aye, we will see it done.” Walter swung up on his horse.
“Make haste to Winterforth. I will follow.”
“My lord, you should not travel alone. ’Tis not safe.” Ulrich frowned.
“Do as I bid. I will take care.” He needed time to be Christian. Not Christian Thornton or Lord Winterforth, but a man. He envied the smuggler, Morien, for his freedom and that he cared not what was said about him. In truth, Christian envied how Morien seemed to be content with who he was, while Christian struggled to live up to his family’s expectations and be what his people needed.
He had never spent an entire day lazing about, never had a time in his life when he wasn’t a noble, never had a woman see him as a man and nothing else. Did they only care for him because he was rich and noble? The thoughts plagued him as he rode.
On the third day of his travels, he made camp in the wood. ’Twas twilight, his favorite time of day, and he was out walking. When he walked, he found it easier to think on what he ought to do and of all the needs he must meet. As long as he was breathing, none would starve; he would see it done.
