Midnight Eyes by Brophy, Sarah (well read books .TXT) 📕

now felt, some part of him had been fool enough to love her a little and ached to know that she didn’t love him in return.

He straightened his shoulders and prepared to fight for the lady who would never be his.

“Well, Lady Imogen, where shall we begin?”

Chapter Fourteen

And to think the journey had sounded so simple from the comfort of the Keep, Imogen thought ruefully. She tried to stretch the nagging pain out of her spine, but nothing she did would shift it, not when the relentless plodding of the horse’s gait undid all her good works. Really she shouldn’t have expected anything else. It would seem that she was finally, truly comprehending that nothing in this world was easy. Imogen snorted quietly at the understatement. Easy, hell, this was almost impossible.

It seemed so silly to think about it now, but “getting to Robert” had sounded like the easy part of the plan back at the Keep. All it really seemed to require was for her to throw her leg over a horse’s back and make a quick dash down south where the real work would begin.

This going south was neither quick, nor a dash. It was tortuously backbreaking and it was taking so long that Imogen was becoming increasingly afraid it was to be a never-ending journey.

She was starting to forget she had ever lived a life that didn’t involve some horse’s all-too-uncomfortable back. The rough hide of the beast had become her whole world, and what a tediously slow world it was! Her humor wasn’t improved any by the knowledge that their lack of speed could be laid squarely at her feet. Her blindness now served to slow them all down. If she couldn’t see, then she couldn’t really ride. Because of that she had to have her horse led by either Matthew or Gareth, like a child on a pony.

She tried to find some consolation in the fact that as slow as their progress was now, at least they were going faster than they would have been if Gareth had got his way. He had thought that the only safe way for Imogen to travel was in a litter. He had been so pigheadedly determined on that point and she had only got her own way by declaring, with great sincerity, that she would rather walk all the way to London on her knees rather than suffer the indignity of traveling thus. She had won herself the right to ride a horse, but she wasn’t so sure now whether that was a real victory or not.

To make matters worse, each night, when she was finally released from her equine prison, she had to face the night terrors that awaited her.

She hated it, hated the fear that filled her every time Gareth called halt for the night. She tried to hide it, not wanting to show such feebleness of spirit, but that denial didn’t stop the panic from stealing her breath away each night when she was finally curled up in her blankets. Each and every evening she was held captive by morbid fears that were brought to life by the sounds of the endless night. She lay trapped in her terrifying imaginings till she could stand it no longer and had to cover her ears or risk losing her sanity.

But blind silence held its own terrors. With her ears stopped, she knew she had not even the slightest chance of saving herself, and that knowledge was more frightening than any night monster her mind could conjure.

And when she finally found sleep in exhaustion, she then had to face the waking. She couldn’t see her strange new environment, and in that moment of waking she felt a terror that was almost beyond her ability to endure.

But endure she did. Each morning, she waited in terror for it to ease. Managing to live through those endless moments of pure fear revealed depths in herself that she had never dared believe existed.

It surprised her. She was finding a discipline she hadn’t even known she possessed. She didn’t scream or cry. Not once, no matter how much she wanted to.

It was primitive, but it was survival and she found a grim pride in it, and she would keep doing it. For Robert.

For him alone she kept putting one foot after the other. She couldn’t let herself forget that the evidence she carried in her saddlebags was the only thing that might save him. She had to be strong at least till her task was done. Only then, when he held her in his arms again, could she indulge herself and fall apart.

And he would hold her again. It had to happen that way. She couldn’t dare think anything else.

She took a deep breath, and whispered, “He is safe. He is waiting for me. All will be well.”

She had to believe it, had to be brave. Unconsciously, her hands moved to cover her slightly curving stomach, drawing confidence and quiet from the still incomprehensible knowledge that even now Robert’s baby rested safely under her heart, then she quickly dropped her hands and took hold of the pommel to stop them from giving her secret away.

She wished Mary was with them. At least she would have had someone to share her excitement with. The girl who had come along as lady’s maid just wasn’t designed for confidences. Imogen smiled a little at the absurdity of even contemplating talking about anything important with the grumpy woman.

If Imogen had had her way, they wouldn’t have been burdened with their reluctant maid. When it had become clear that Mary was too old to even contemplate such a journey, Imogen had assumed that only Gareth and Matthew would travel with her.

Gareth, however, had other ideas.

He had insisted that they take one of the Keep’s younger maids. “For appearances’ sake,” he had said with evident embarrassment, clearly hoping not to be drawn on the finer details of chaperonage. Mildryd had volunteered for the duty and