snow from his boots and brushed it off his clothes, gazing around for the horses. “But I believe it is best that we make haste away from here.”
“But where…?” The lady turned in a circle, searching the buried road. The strengthening wind molded her damp coat to her slight frame, and she shivered. A few flakes of fresh snow danced around her.
“My home is there, atop the cliff.” Rob indicated, a little distance away, the outline of an old fortress against the growing clouds.
The lady’s eyes widened. “The Eyrie? I thought it unoccupied.”
“It has been for some years. I have just recently returned from India. I’m Robert Armstrong.”
“Baron Duncan?”
“The same.”
“I see. I…” She lifted her chin proudly. “I am Iantha Kethley.” She did not offer her hand.
Nor did she smile.
Ah, well. Not exactly the reward the gallant rescuer of a beautiful maiden in distress might wish for. At least, she might be a beautiful maiden had she deigned to smile.
Whistling for his bay, he retrieved the cob from where it stood forlornly a few yards away and ran his hand expertly down its leg. “We will both have to use my horse. Your poor pony is considerably the worse for two narrow escapes. Let me mount first, and I will lift you up before me.”
“Uh…” The fear flickered once more in those remarkable eyes. “No. That is… I prefer to ride behind you. I will mount first.”
“But the road is very steep. You will likely slide off. It would be far safer—”
“I will ride behind.” Her lifted chin took on a stubborn tilt.
Rob sighed. “As you wish. We have no time for argument.” He glanced at the lowering sky and got a face full of snow for his trouble. “Whatever we do, we’d best do it soon. That storm will be upon us in earnest very shortly.”
As he was about to lift her, she stopped him again, backing away from him. “My paints.” She pointed to the leather case. “I will carry them.”
“Your paints?” Rob smothered a snort of exasperation. “Very well. As soon as you are seated.” He caught her before she could make yet another objection, his broad hands all but encompassing her fragile waist. She seemed almost to float upward as he set her sideways behind the saddle. Handing up the case when she had settled herself, he gathered up the cob’s reins and mounted his own horse awkwardly, swinging his foot over the animal’s head. The bay sidled, signaling his annoyance at this unorthodox procedure.
Rob settled into the saddle, only to be jabbed between the shoulder blades by something sharp. Now what? Turning, he realized that his damsel in distress had placed the paint case between herself and his sturdy back and was trying to hold on to him around it. That was the outside of enough!
“Give me that!” He unceremoniously yanked the case out of her grasp and balanced it across the saddle in front of him with one hand. “Now hold on to me. We have no time for this nonsense.”
Urging his mount across the escarpment below the towering cliff, Rob made for the old castle by the shortest route. The wind howled around them now, the snow blowing sideways, stinging their faces. More drifts were already forming across what was left of the road below them in the valley. It would be of no further use to them, but his path would take them directly to the trail that led up to his home. His bay might have made short work of the trip had not the lame cob held him back, but they should still safely reach shelter.
As the laboring horses struggled up a sharp incline, Rob heard a strangled squeak, and the small arms around his waist abruptly disappeared. The bay reared slightly as his load shifted. Rob steadied him and looked back in alarm to see his passenger sitting in the snow, legs stretched before her and her skirts above her knees, exposing white leather knee boots.
And another pistol strapped to the top of one boot.
Great heavens, the woman went about armed to the teeth!
To his relief she looked startled, but not stunned. She scrambled hastily to her feet and came to where Rob waited aboard his mount, nobly forbearing to say I told you so. She at least had the grace to appear chagrined, two rosy spots coloring her cheeks. He extended a hand. “Put your foot on top of mine and push as I lift you.”
She obeyed this command without a word and, giving her the paint case to hold, Rob pulled her up into his arms and set her in front of him. His arm tightened around her waist as he dug his heels into the bay’s sides. Immediately her whole body went stiff. He frowned, puzzled. What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as though he were kidnapping her. He was rescuing her, for God’s sake!
He pulled the horse in. “Miss Kethley.” She did not respond. He couldn’t see her face. She set it resolutely ahead, like a prisoner going bravely to meet her fate. He grasped her chin and turned her toward him. He gazed into her face, baffled.
“Miss Kethley, please tell me what I have done to offend you so.” She shook her head, opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again. “Have I offered you any harm, any insult?”
She swallowed and shook her head. “N…” She moistened her lips and tried again. “N-no.”
“Nor will I.”
Rob shut his mouth grimly and set off up the mountain.
As they made their way up the slope, Iantha sat in the shelter of the baron’s body and willed herself to think, to remain calm. She would control her fear. The man had done nothing to provoke it. He had done nothing but what was right and proper—gallant even. Yet when he had fallen across her, she had thought her heart would stop. Even the roar of the snowslide had been drowned out by the roaring inside her mind; the fear of being buried alive paled beside the fear engendered by the weight of his body on top of hers.
If only she could banish those hateful images from her mind, she would feel relieved that she no longer had to fight every moment to keep her seat. And with her rescuer’s bulk blocking the wind and snow, the cold didn’t bite into her as it had been doing. Even so, her fingers felt frozen to the handle of her paint case, and she could no longer feel her toes.
Sitting thus, she realized that his lordship was much taller than he had seemed when he’d stood some distance away. The breadth of his muscular shoulders had made him appear much shorter. He was a big man. Strong. Yet, she reminded herself, he had used his strength only to aid her. She must think about that. Use it to bridle her rebelling emotions.
Control. Control was her fortress.
She would maintain control.
Just when Iantha thought the cold and the wind blasting along the escarpment would go on forever, they encountered the road that ran between the valley and the castle. Several switchbacks later they found themselves in the enveloping silence and welcome warmth of a large stone stable. Iantha straightened her aching shoulders and looked about. A stockily built groom with grizzled hair was hurrying toward them.
“Me lord! You’re home safe at last. Burnside and me was just debating should we mount a search.” He reached up, squinting at her, and took the paint case out of Iantha’s stiff fingers. “And who might we have here?”
