Taken by Storm (16 page)

He followed her out of the now-busy stable, passing horses being brought out and harnessed, the matched grays, and an old, sway-backed bay gelding that had just been driven into the little yard. Its coloring and markings mirrored Shareb’s, but any similarity stopped there. The animal’s head was lowered, its nose hanging near the ground, its eyes half-closed and its entire body broken and defeated.

“Hello, boy,” Colin murmured, and put out his hand to touch the drooping head.

Unlike the fiery Shareb-er-rehh, this sad, gentle creature took a weary step forward and placed its muzzle in his palm. Its sides expanded in a deep sigh, and it was then that Colin noticed the cruel sores beneath the harness, the rawness about the animal’s mouth.
Oh, God
, he thought, his heart constricting, and laid his hand against the old beast’s rain-soaked neck.

You have healing hands,
Delabere Blaine had once told him, upon noting the eerie way that animals behaved around him. But even healing hands could do nothing to take away cruelty and the pain of abuse.

“Hey, you, there! Git away from my horse, ye hear?”

Colin looked up as a fat, pox-scarred man waddled toward him, a cowed-looking gun dog trailing at his heels. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Meg standing on the inn’s steps, hands on her hips, head cocked, watching. Not wishing to make a scene, Colin gently stroked the gelding’s thin neck and said mildly, “You might try a little kindness where your horse is concerned. He’ll perform far better for you.”

“I’m kind as the day is long,” the man puffed, glaring hatefully at the poor old gelding. “But my luck with animals is the devil’s own. Damned dog here won’t hunt, damned horse ain’t no better. Paid enough money for ‘im and ‘e’s sick. Won’t go. And here I gotta be in Norwich day after tomorrow an’ this animal ain’t fit for nothin’ but dog food. Damned farrier’s supposed to be along any minute t’ have a look at ‘im. I’m tellin’ ye, though, if he can’t do anything for the stinkin’ beast I’m sending ‘im off to the knacker’s!”

“Mr. Lord?” Meg called saucily. “Coming?”

Colin’s worried gaze remained on the gelding. He touched the soft white and pink muzzle and felt the animal’s breath against his fingers. “Perhaps I could help,” he suggested, keeping his tone steady and mild in an attempt to defuse the owner’s ill temper. “I’m a veterinarian.”

“A what?”

“Veterinarian.”

“What the hell is that?”

Colin smiled, and stroked the gelding’s neck. “An animal doctor.”

“There ain’t nothin’ you kin do that me own farrier can’t,” the man growled. “I don’t need no university-educated know-it-all telling me how to treat me horse.”

Colin sighed. Maybe, just maybe, one of these days he’d learn that he couldn’t fix the world. “Have your farrier treat him, then. But if my advice means anything to you, try putting a pad of sheepskin right here—” he gently lifted the saddle of the harness and indicated a raw spot, just behind the gelding’s withers— “to keep the leather from chafing his back. He has harness sores, and they hurt. No wonder he won’t go for you.”

The man stared at him, and wordlessly, Colin gave the poor animal’s nose a last stroke. But as he turned and walked away, the old horse let out a long, plaintive whinny, trying to call him back. The sound tore at Colin’s heart. Steeling himself, he kept walking. The gelding whinnied again.

You can’t fix the world.

Meg was holding the door open for him, and as he stepped inside, a notice displayed boldly across its front caught his eye and pushed thoughts of the old horse to the back of his mind.

WANTED: Any information leading to the whereabouts of Lady Ariadne St. Aubyn, daughter of the late Earl of Weybourne, who disappeared on Sunday last. . . .

“Bloody hell!” he said under his breath. “She
wasn’t
exaggerating!”

“What?” Meg asked.

His smile was quick and false. “Oh—uh, nothing. Friend of mine told me about this—um, this fugitive, but I suppose it’s such a singular story you have to see something like this in order to believe it, eh?”

“I suppose. Whole countryside’s talkin’ about it, though. Can ye imagine? Ten thousand pounds to return the girl—an heiress, no less!—an’ the stallion to her brother. Must be one valuable nag indeed. . . .”

Sudden sweat ran down Colin’s back, his heart pounded in his ears, and it was all he could do to retain his composure as he followed Meg into the inn. It was a far different scene than it had been last night, with patrons laughing and drinking and sitting elbow to elbow at the dark, polished tables. Smoke and the nauseating scent of frying pork clogged the air. Finding a chair, Colin stared desperately out the window, where green hills dotted with sheep rolled away to the horizon.

He fisted his hands beneath the table.
Come back, Ariadne. We have to get out of here,
now.

Meg set a plate before him, and a pot of tea. He shook his head, waved them away. “No, no. Ale. Strong, dark, with plenty of bite to it. Ale.”

“Mr. Lord, are you quite all right?”

He raked his fingers down his face. “I’m fine. Bad night. Didn’t sleep well. Take this away, please, I can’t eat it.”

“But it’s fresh bacon, surely—”

“For God’s sake, woman, take it away and bring me a plate of eggs and toast instead!”

Forgetting the teapot, she hurried off, leaving him to sit there in his soaked clothes. By the time she returned Colin had gotten his composure under control once again. He guzzled the ale, shoveled the eggs into his mouth and sopped up the yolks with the toast. Something touched his feet, and he looked down to see the tortoiseshell cat slamming its torso against his ankles and purring in delight.

He waited until Meg’s back was turned, then scooped up a bit of egg yolk on his finger, put his hand beneath the table, and let the affectionate feline lick it off.

The door opened, and
she
walked in.

He grabbed her sleeve as she approached, hauling her so close that her startled face was mere inches from his. “Where on earth have you been?” he demanded, beneath his breath. “We can’t stay here, not now—”

She stared at him, properly affronted. Then, with that casual, haughty elegance she could command at the bat of an eye, she shook him off, moved around the table, and sat down across from him, her eyes sparkling with humor and the love of what surely, to her, must be the ultimate adventure. “Really,
Doctor
, do you think I did not know? They were banging that notice onto the door at an hour unfit, even, for the roosters. Made enough racket to wake the dead. Now where’s that foolish maid? I could go for some tea and toast.”

He glanced over his shoulder then leaned forward, hoping no one had recognized her. “Ariadne, keep your cap on and your head down. Don’t meet anyone’s eyes. Just sit there, don’t say a
word
, and for God’s sake, keep your coat closed!”

“Really, Colin, I have no plausible reason to open it.”

“Plague take it, it’s not funny!”

“No, the situation is not.” She reached over and touched his wrist. “But your concern, is.” Grinning, she picked up his cup and angled her head toward the untouched pot of tea.

Rolling his eyes, Colin picked up the pot and filled the cup with the steeped brew, keenly aware of her eyes on his face.

She grinned, and raising the cup delicately to her lips, lifted her hand in an imperious motion for Meg to bring her some toast. “I have been on the run for several days now. I have seen these notices all over London. I expect to see them all the way to Norfolk, and with, I’m certain, increasing frequency.” She smiled sweetly, and leaned back as Meg set toast, butter and a pot of marmalade before her. “But I know, the shock of seeing one for the first time is rather distressing, is it not? By the way—”

She reached into her pocket, and grinning, came up with his spectacles. “Look what I found in the hay this morning.”

The memories came flooding back.

“Sleep well, Dr. Lord?”

So, they were back to
this
again. She, virginal and shy by night, bold and flirtatious by day. He couldn’t keep up with her, let alone understand her.

“Lady Ariadne—”

“I watched you sleep, you know.”

He tried to scowl, but she merely grinned, her eyes sparkling.

“You made a charming sight. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve never watched a man sleep before.”

“Let me guess,” he said wryly, picking up a piece of toast and buttering it for her. “
I’m
the one who drools. Who talks in his sleep.”

She laughed, opened his glasses, and leaning over the table, slid them onto his nose. “To be honest, good Doctor, I really didn’t notice. And if I did, I am not so sure I would embarrass you by telling you.”

“Marmalade?”

“Yes, please. And lots of it, if you don’t mind.”

He spread the jelly thickly over the toast, then handed it to her. Still grinning at him, she took a bite out of it, crunching happily and studying him pertly from across the table. His heartbeat began to quicken, and he suddenly felt hot all over. She was the only person he’d ever met who could reduce his composure to pudding; not even his admiral, not even Nelson had been able to shake him. But this girl—this playful, saucy, flirtatious little noblewoman—she could reduce him to a bucket of guts without even trying, just by paying him too much attention in all the right places.

Wishing he could ignore her, knowing he could not, he picked up his mug and brought it to his lips.

“I wish I’d met you before Father promised me to Maxwell,” she said baldly.

He nearly choked on his tea.

“Oh, Colin, you are so refreshing after the pampered blades of London! So artless, and totally unaware of yourself . . . really, there’s no need to glare at me as if I were an errant child, because you really are a lot of fun and I quite enjoy your company. You know, I might even keep you on as my personal veterinarian after I get married so that—”

“How was your ride?” he said tightly, trying to change the subject.

“My ride?”

“Yes, your ride. Meg told me you took Shareb-er-rehh out for a gallop.”

She grinned and stretched her hands over her head, totally oblivious to the pain she had just caused him with that single word—
Maxwell
—, totally unaware of the charming sight she made in her shirt, cap and breeches. “Ah, it was exhilarating! Shareb-er-rehh is all set to go, happy as a lark this morn because I gave him some pastr— I mean, breakfast, and now the sun is starting to break through the clouds, and you know something, Dr. Lord, I think it’s going to be a positively beautiful day!”

Just then, a terrified, inhuman scream split the air.

Colin jumped to his feet, nearly upsetting the table, his face paling.

“Lud, what on
earth
was that?!” Ariadne gasped, clapping a hand to her chest.

But the veterinarian threw down his napkin and heedless of the angry protests, shoved his way through a group of milling patrons in his haste to reach the door. As he charged outside, the other diners rose to their feet, their chairs scraping and silverware hitting their plates.

“What is it?”

“Dunno. Something going on outside!”

“Cor, what a bloody awful sound—”

Ariadne ran to the door to see what the commotion was all about, but the other patrons were there before her. Again came that chilling scream, and she felt the hair rise on her nape and her blood running cold as she shoved her way through the other people and halted in her tracks on the doorstep just outside.

Her hand went to her mouth in horror.

In the space of a moment, she saw it all. An old, broken-down bay horse, harnessed to a cart and screaming in terror as a man beat it about the ears with a stick and another man, holding a bucket and some sort of knife, tried to get close to its neck.

And the veterinarian.
Her
veterinarian, striding angrily down the lawn towards the frightened animal, his fists clenched and his back stiff with rage.

“Colin!” she cried. Then, she broke from the crowd and raced headlong across the lawn after him. “
Colin!
”

He never stopped, his angry, hitching stride carrying him toward the horse at a speed she would never have thought him capable of attaining. Breathless, she caught up to him and grabbed his arm. His jaw was set, his eyes hard and furious behind his glasses.

“Colin, you can’t just interfere—”

He shook her off, shoving his way through the small group that surrounded the horse until he reached its head.

“I beg your pardon,” he ground out, with barely suppressed fury, “But may I offer a bit of advice here?”

He caught the gelding’s bridle, and Ariadne saw the poor, suffering animal turn its face against his chest in grateful relief.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you blighty bugger?” the farrier cried, raising the scalpel as Colin came between him and the horse. “Get out of here and mind your own business, I’ve got work to do!”

Cradling the gelding’s head in the curve of his arm, Colin turned blazing eyes on the farrier. “There is no need to practice phlebotomy on a horse with the mere complaint of harness sores. Leave him be.”

People came running from the inn, and soon there was a small crowd surrounding the horse. An awed murmur rippled through it like lightning through thunder clouds.

“Who the hell are
you
?” the farrier persisted.

Filled with pride and admiration, Ariadne stepped forward. “He is Colin Lord, London veterinarian, and if says the horse doesn’t need to be bled, he doesn’t!”

“Well,
I
say he does, and I damn well ought to know!”

“He does
not
need to be bled! No animal does!” Shielding the gelding’s face from the enraged farrier, the veterinarian turned to the horse’s shocked owner. His voice was shaking, unsteady with rage. “Look, Mister—please. Let me treat him. For God’s sake, I won’t charge you a damned penny—”

The farrier flung his bucket down in the mud. “You questioning my skills? You think I don’t know what I’m doing? Who the hell do you think you are, to just come in here and tell me how to do my job? Huh? You tell me, you bastard!”