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A sheep was immediately in front of his horse’s hooves. William pulled on the reins and his mare swerved to the right, barely missing the second sheep. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thomas run for his horse, but his steward would be of little help in pursuing Ryland with the man’s stallion tied to his mount. Thomas would have to untie Ryland’s horse if he were to take up the chase.

“Gather the sheep,” William shouted, and then he took off after Charlotte.

Ryland was pushing the horse hard. Already, William had to strain to see the vague shadow of the mare and its riders, but the steady cadence of galloping hooves against the wet sand echoed the pounding of his racing heart. There was no accounting for what a man so delusional would do to someone he kidnapped. He took a ragged breath. If something were to happen to Charlotte, her grandmother and his mother would never forgive him. More to the point, he would never forgive himself.

Lowering himself in the saddle, William gave his horse its head. “Come on, Bella,” he muttered. “We have to catch them before he reaches the promontory.”

Ryland’s advantage was that he’d obviously ridden this stretch of beach several times in the last few weeks; William’s advantage was that he was riding solo. Bella’s hooves thundered around the bay, sending sand flying in their wake, and gradually, the distance between the horses began to narrow.

William raised his head slightly. He could make out Ryland’s form, but it was impossible to see Charlotte. He’d heard nothing from her since she’d called his name. Was her silence of her own doing, or was the fiend threatening her in some way? His stomach twisted. She was the most fearless young lady he’d ever met. And the only one whose smile and blue eyes could distract him so completely from his work. He pushed aside the vision of her holding the lamb in the kitchen and focused on the horse ahead. No matter Ryland’s end goal, William would reach Charlotte first.

Charlotte attempted to quash her rising panic. If Mr. Ryland’s ragged breathing and ever-tightening grip on her arms were any indication, the gentleman was close to the breaking point. And with the rocky promontory drawing closer, that did not bode well for either of them. A fall from a horse traveling at this speed could be deadly; landing on the rocks made it almost certain. She tensed her right leg around the pommel of the sidesaddle in a desperate attempt to retain her seat on the galloping horse.

“Do you aim to kill us both, sir?”

The wind caught her words and flung them away, but Mr. Ryland was close enough to hear.

“You have nothing to fear, Miss Densley.” He leaned closer, his mouth at her ear. “Once we are out of this bay, we are free.”

Charlotte strained against his arm. She wanted no part of Mr. Ryland’s warped sense of freedom. All she wanted at this moment was to be with William. A sob caught in her throat as awareness of her growing feelings for the baron overtook her. The unexpected revelation was quickly followed by a surge of determination. She would escape—no matter how impossible it seemed. She and William had witnessed one miracle already this evening. Surely another was possible.

They were reaching the tip of the bay. Straining to see the terrain in the darkness, Mr. Ryland slowed the horse to a trot. At their right, the land jutted into the sea in a steep, rocky promontory, which appeared as a jagged black shadow against the night sky. On their left, the sea was an enormous pool of ink. And behind them, above the sound of the wind and the waves, Charlotte heard the thunder of hooves. Her heart lifted a fraction. It had to be William. And, unless the sea breeze was distorting the sound, he was close.

Mr. Ryland must have come to the same conclusion. He touched his heels to the horse’s side, urging it into the water.

“He shall not catch us, Miss Densley.” He spoke with brash assurance. “The tide is coming in too quickly for Lord Cheston to navigate the remaining distance on horseback.”

Charlotte said nothing. If Mr. Ryland wished to believe that all would be well for him once he was beyond the bay, he could do so. It would have no bearing on her. One way or another, she would be gone before then.

The horse forged on, the water now up to its forelegs. Water was seeping into Charlotte’s boots, and she could feel the weight of her skirts increasing as they became wetter. It was an unpleasant state, but if she were forced to choose, she would rather drop into the water than onto the rocks. There was no way of knowing when her opportunity would come, but she must be ready to seize it when it did.

Using the horse’s unsteady gait to hide her movement, Charlotte slowly eased her right leg up and over the pommel, gradually shifting until it was free of the horn. A wave hit the horse’s chest, splashing seawater at both riders. Mr. Ryland cursed, wiping his forehead on his shoulder. Unable to remove the drips from her face, Charlotte used the distraction to slide her left foot out of the slipper stirrup. Both legs now hung free. She twisted her hips slightly to the left until the only thing keeping her in the saddle was Mr. Ryland’s crushing arm-hold.

Another wave rolled in, wetting Charlotte’s riding habit above her knees and causing the horse to misstep. Behind her, she heard echoing splashes. William’s horse had entered the water.

“Come on!” Mr. Ryland tugged on the reins.

With a snort, the horse shook its head, and suddenly the black silhouette of a huge rock appeared in the water before them. The rush of water filled the air.

“Watch out!” she cried.

Mr. Ryland reacted instinctively. Releasing his hold on Charlotte, he grabbed the reins in both hands just as an enormous wave rounded the headland and barreled down upon them. The horse’s legs buckled. It staggered sideways, struggling to stay upright. Clinging to the reins, Mr. Ryland cursed again, and Charlotte let herself fall.

As she slid out of the saddle, her feet hit the water, her skirts expanding around her as she sank. The sudden cold stole her breath, and for one awful moment, she was not sure that she could take another. She opened her mouth, but instead of air, she gasped seawater. Coughing, she floundered, trying to find her footing. Her knee hit a rock. Pain radiated upward from the injury. The water was up to her chin. She took two more unsteady steps away from the horse before her leg gave way and she dropped below the water’s surface.

William tightened his hold on the reins as another wave crashed into Bella. As far as he could tell, they were only a few yards from the promontory’s tip. At this point, the battling currents on either side of the rock formation caused the waves to hit with greater fury. Ryland was a lunatic to attempt passing it on horseback with the tide coming in so rapidly. If the man had been riding alone, William would have let him test fate without doing the same himself. It would have been a long, hard ride, but crossing to the other side of the headland by road and meeting the fiend on the other side would have been far safer. As it was, William was not willing to lose sight of the horse carrying Charlotte.

Ryland was almost around the tip now. Only a moment ago, William had heard loud splashes. He’d hoped the stronger waves would slow the horse enough for him to close the distance between them further, but the man was pressing on relentlessly. The gentleman’s white cravat stood out above his dark jacket. Charlotte’s navy riding habit was almost invisible, but her blonde hair … William strained to see through the darkness, a pit widening in his stomach as he searched in vain. There was no one on the horse but Ryland.

Another wave caught him off guard. Bella sidestepped. William loosened the reins, allowing Bella to steady herself as he scoured the water around him. Charlotte had been on the horse when Ryland had entered the sea. He was sure of it. Just as he was equally sure that she was not in the saddle now.

“Charlotte!” he shouted.

The sea breeze snatched his voice. Another wave came in. Bella moved closer to the promontory.

“Steady girl!” The last thing William needed right now was an injured horse. He guided her back out into the water. “Charlotte!” he yelled again.

Something slapped against his foot. He looked down. Fabric. He reached for it, pulling the sopping mass out of the water. His heart pounded as he held it up. It was a cloak. Charlotte’s cloak. Swallowing the bile in his throat, he scoured the water around him.