There was only one thing to do.
He blew out a determined breath, loping toward the spot she’d disappeared, pausing only to retrieve his axe.
There was a primitive footpath nestled against the mountain which led away from the field.That was where she’d been headed.It must be where she’d gone.
She couldn’t travel very quickly with a coo.There was a good chance he could catch her before she got too deep into the mountains.
Increasing his pace, he moved swiftly from the wide moonlit grassland to the narrow shadowed path.The trail sloped abruptly upward.But as he climbed, the mountain on his right rose even more steeply.
The moon, hidden now behind the mountain’s peak, provided no light.Only starlight illuminated the path, which constricted more with each step.
On his right loomed a sheer face of rock, carpeted with moss and fern.
To his left plunged a crevasse as black as peat.How deep it was, he couldn’t tell.
But the narrower the trail became, the higher it rose and the darker it got, the more he worried about Lady Carenza.
Had she really come this way with the great beast?
Did she realize how dangerous this path was?
As if to prove his point, his heel slipped on rubble, scraping perilously close to the edge of the abyss.A taunting trickle of pebbles dribbled down the side, fading far below.
“Shite,” he muttered in disgust.
Was this how his life would end?Would the fierce Sir Hew du Lac fall to his death, not in battle, but on a mountain pass, chasing after a lass with a coo?
He managed to regain his footing and braced himself against the wall.
Then his heart wrenched as a horrible thought knifed through his soul.
What if the lady hadn’t made it this far?
What if she’d already met with an unspeakable accident?
What if the beast had misstepped as he had?
What if it had tumbled headlong into the crevasse, dragging its mistress down to her death?
The bitter taste of terror filled his mouth.It was too awful to contemplate.
Instead, he shook off the fear and donned the scowl he wore into battle.
By God, he was Sir Hew du Lac.A Rivenloch warrior.Fear only fed his resolve.
Steeling his nerves, he blew out a determined breath, pushed away from the wall, and swung his axe up over his shoulder.
Unfortunately, the weapon never made it to his shoulder.
Instead, the blade caught on something—a root or a rock—beside him.The halted momentum made him stagger and lose his footing.He fell to one knee.As he tried to lever up with the other leg, the earth gave way beneath his boot, launching a hailstorm of rocks into the crevasse.
He slammed his left hand forward, grasping for purchase.But his palm scraped across the ground as his weight began to pull him over the crumbling edge.
Grimacing, he scrabbled at the slick growth for a handhold and found none.
His last prayer as the earth opened its dark maw to devour him was that the lady had not met a similar fate.
Chapter 8
