My Heart's in the Highlands by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

top floor of the pagoda tofind it empty but the small room had windows on all six walls, andHero rushed to them, searching for some clue from this highervantage point. Rushing to the northern views, she could easily seethrough the trees to the northwest where the parklands melted intothe great lawns around Cuilean and to the gardens. To the east, shecould see Ian striding quickly through the sparse trees where thepark merged into the thickening forest of the woodlands. His shoutsfor her father muffled through the glass as he looked behind treesand up into them, thinking that her father might have climbed orfallen. To the south, the trees would give way to the orchards butHero could see nothing more than a hundred feet away.

Directly west, past the tree line, more thana quarter mile away there was nothing but open land to the firth,and with a horrified cry, Hero saw her father hanging precariouslyfrom the side of one of their horses as it raced toward thecliffs.

Dashing down the stairs, Hero screamed Ian’sname and he turned, running back to her. Breathless, Hero pointedto the west, her panting gasps inaudible over the pounding of herriding boots on the wooden bridge as she crossed the creek. “He’son horseback but it looks like he’s collapsed. Please, Ian.Hurry!”

But he was already gone, running past her inlong strides to where they had left their mounts tied. He wasastride and kicking the horse into motion before Hero was evenhalfway there. She tried to watch what was happening as she ran toher horse but her viewpoint wasn’t nearly as good as it had been inthe pagoda. She could only pray that Ian made it to her fatherbefore the horse reached the cliffs.

Gasping for breath, Hero finally made it toher horse, but without a mounting block or groom, she was nearlyhelpless in the long, trailing skirts of her riding habit. Withtears of worry and frustration blurring her vision, she lookedaround her but found no fallen trees, no stumps to make it easier.Gathering her skirts high around her thighs, Hero shoved her leftfoot into the stirrup before dropping them so that she could grabthe curved pommel on the saddle in both hands. Bouncing formomentum, she swung her leg up and over the saddle with a sob ofrelief that she had made it.

Kicking Colleen into a gallop, Herodesperately raced westward, wondering what she would find. Then shesaw them. Ian was bent low over his horse at a full gallop inpursuit, his arm extended and reaching for the reins of the otherhorse. He caught them handily and the horses began to slow. Butthen her father slid to the opposite side and started to fall. Ianreached for him, but the distance was too far.

With a cry, Hero saw her father hit theground. Ian pulled up and leapt from his horse before it had evenstopped. By the time Hero reached them, Ian was bent over herfather, who was lying prone on the ground.

Pulling her prancing horse to a halt, Heroslid off the indignant creature and ran to her father, dropping toher knees by his side. His eyes were closed and blood was leakingfrom a gash on his forehead. “Is he …? Papa?”

“I fell,” Beaumont whispered crossly, openinghis eyes. “Can you even fathom it?”

Hero blinked at that, taking his hand betweenhers. “But are you all right, Papa?”

“Fell from a horse!” he shouted, as if thatsingle point precluded his ability to be well.

“I think he’ll be fine,” Ian assured her ashe wiped his handkerchief across a cut on the duke’s brow. “Just afew cuts. I could find no broken bones, though he may have sprainedhis wrist when he landed.”

“Thank God,” Hero murmured, laying her headweakly against Ian’s shoulder. “I was so frightened. I thought forcertain he was going to go straight over the cliff.”

“He might have,” Ian said tightly.

“I fell from a horse!” Beaumontrepeated, his body drawn so tautly that his feet rose from theground from the effort.

“Better a horse than a cliff, Harry,” Iantold him as he rocked back on his heels and stood. “Come on, now.”Ian held out his hand. “Let’s get you back home and perhaps Mrs.Potts can see to those cuts. I think the one on your head mightneed stitching. And perhaps she’ll have a nice treacle aswell.”

Beaumont allowed Ian to help him up though hewas still flushed red with anger. Even the lure of dessert couldnot sway him. “I’d like to say that I need a gun to put thatmiserable animal down for such a disgrace but I’m not certain if Idon’t deserve it more! What wretched humiliation.”

Ian slapped him on the back in an expressionof male sympathy and Beaumont limped away shaking his head. “I fellfrom a horse? Impossible.”

“Are you sure he’s going to be all right?”Hero asked as she rose. “You never can tell with him when he’sseriously hurt.”

“He’s fine,” Ian ground out, and Hero lookedup at him with surprise. There was a muscle jumping in Ian’s cheekas he ground his teeth. He looked not concerned but angry. Veryangry.

Confused, Hero laid a gentle hand on his arm.“I’m so sorry that Papa has caused you so much trouble, Ian.”

Ian only snorted irritably. “He is notthe trouble.”

Even more confused, Hero wanted to ask himwhat he meant, but Ian only stormed off to retrieve the once-riledhorse. Gideon’s saddle was sitting skewed to the side, and as shewatched, Ian lifted the knee roll and flap to examine the girthbeneath. He ran his hand up the billet and gave it an incensed tugwith an audible snarl of rage. To Hero’s surprise, the entiresaddle tilted and fell to the ground.

“Ian!” she gasped. “What was wrong with thegirth? Was it worn through?”

“Get your father on his horse and get himhome, Hero,” he ground out, slashing his hand through the air.

“What about you?”

“Bugger it, Hero, just bloody well do it!” hebarked and Hero’s eyes went wide. There was frustration and fury inthe command. His eyes, which had held only warmth before, werecold. This had to be the Ian of years past, the captain in thearmy, the soldier on