The Heiress - Lynsay Sands [114]
“What are you doing?” Richard asked, following him.
“I am going to ride back through the woods and see if I can find them. If I can’t we will travel on to the next inn and check there,” Daniel announced grimly.
“You can’t ride with your wound,” Richard protested.
“It’s a mere scratch. Doesn’t bother me at all anymore,” he lied blithely, grabbing a saddle off a sawhorse against the wall and moving into the stall to saddle the horse.
“I’ll go,” Richard offered, taking the saddle from him and lifting it onto the horse.
“Someone has to stay here in case I miss them and they arrive while I am gone,” he said, scowling at Richard, but really grateful he’d taken over the task of handling the saddle. His wound had screamed with pain when he’d picked up the damned thing.
“You and Robert can stay here to watch for them while I go,” Richard said calmly, cinching the saddle.
Daniel caught his arm. When Richard paused and glanced at him, he asked solemnly, “Would you stay here if it were Christiana out there instead of Suzette?”
Richard frowned and turned back to finish with the saddle. Once done, he sighed and shook his head. “Your mother is going to kill me for letting you go.”
“She doesn’t have to know,” Daniel said firmly, and then smiled wryly and added, “In fact, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her. She’d come after me herself.”
“You’re damned right I would,” Lady Woodrow announced.
Sighing, Daniel turned to watch her step into the stall. “I am going, Mother, and that is that.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” she admitted, not looking pleased. “But you are not going alone.”
“Robert and Richard have to remain here in case they—”
“Then I am coming with you,” she said simply and glanced to Richard to ask, “Would you saddle me a mount, please, Richard? Don’t worry about it being a sidesaddle, I can ride astride.”
“Yes, Lady Woodrow,” Richard murmured and slid out of the stall to find a saddle and carry it to the next horse over.
“Mother, you are not—” Daniel began, but she interrupted him.
“Do you want to stand here and argue about it, or shall we go find your Suzette?” she asked abruptly. “Because if it’s arguing you want, I will give it to you. But it will be a waste of time. I am going with you.”
Suzette woke to pain. She seemed to hurt everywhere, her head, her throat, her side, her wrists, her ankle. Everything was either throbbing or burning. It was most unpleasant.
“Suzie?”
Recognizing her father’s voice, she opened her eyes and peered around. It took a moment for her to realize the dark sentinels surrounding her were trees and that she was lying on the cold ground in a fetal position. She couldn’t see her father though.
“Are you awake?” he asked, and Suzette realized his voice was coming from behind her. When she felt a warm hand clasp her own, she turned her head, biting back a groan as her throat protested the move.
“Father?” she asked, able to make out a dark shape behind her.
“Yes.” He squeezed her hand. “How is your head?”
“It pains me,” she admitted wearily.
“I am not surprised. You hit it when you fell. It bled badly,” he added. “Is it still bleeding?”
“I don’t know,” Suzette said, wondering how she was to tell. It hurt, that was all she really knew, and then she frowned and asked, “When I fell?”
“When Danvers attacked you I rammed him with my shoulders. It was all I could do,” he said apologetically. “I was afraid he was going to choke you to death.”
“He was very angry,” Suzette said dryly.
“You have that effect on people,” was his wry response.
Suzette gave a short laugh and then asked, “So ramming him was enough to stop him?”
“Well, that knocked you both down and got his attention. But I suspect reminding him he couldn’t marry a corpse was the real reason he didn’t simply go back to choking you,” he admitted.
“Good thinking,” she sighed.
“It worked,” her father said, and then added apologetically, “Unfortunately you knocked your head on a boulder as you fell. So you have me to blame for your aching head.”
“You saved my