Haunted by the Earl's Touch - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,68

She would not shed any more.

She opened her eyes. To her surprise a light glimmered off in the distance, a soft sort of glow. Like the one in her dream. She pushed to her feet and, bent double at times, followed the source of the light.

It wasn’t long before she realised that it wasn’t men working and it wasn’t the ghost of the White Lady leading her astray. It was daylight.

Wonderful daylight.

On her hands and knees now, splashing through freezing water that trickled down the walls and turned into a rivulet, she crawled out on to the hillside. She was out.

She collapsed and lifted her face to the sky, inhaled deep breaths of cold air and thanked God. Slowly her brain started to function. First, she took an inventory of her person.

Her knees were scraped, her skirts torn and soaking wet, her hands hurting. Her cotton gloves had been shredded by the rocks and her fingertips were raw and a couple of them were bleeding. She was still trembling inside, still shaken to her very core. But she was alive.

What had happened made no sense. Why had he been so seductive, talking of marriage on the carriage ride here, if he had intended to kill her? Or had he meant only to allay her fears?

Did she go back to the mine and face him? Or did she get as far away from here as possible? Wasn’t now her chance to leave, when they would have discovered her missing and be busy searching in the dark?

You little fool. She’d be a fool to stay.

Hot moisture trickled down her face. She dashed the tears away. She didn’t even know why she was crying, why she felt so betrayed. She’d known all along he hated the idea of their marriage.

The pretty words, the hot gazes, the kisses—they’d all been designed to allay her suspicions. And she’d let female sensibility overcome good sense, just as he’d no doubt planned.

She struggled to her feet, tossed her miner’s hat aside and made for the nearest stone wall. For once, luck led her in the right direction. It was the wall that lined each side of the road up to the mine. After a while, she found a farmer’s gate into the road. Now if she was really lucky a farmer would come along in a cart and offer her a ride.

She half-walked, half-ran along the rutted lane. How long would he search for her underground? How long would he keep up the pretence of looking for someone he already knew to be at the bottom of a deep hole?

At the sound of bridles jingling and the grind of wheels, she spun about. It wasn’t the hoped-for farmer’s cart, it was a carriage. His carriage. He wasn’t searching the mine, he was sitting beside the coachman, driving his team straight towards her. He wasn’t searching for her, at all. Why would he waste his time, when he had thought he knew where she was?

Dizziness washed through her, the world seemed to spin around her head, the grey clouds, the distant thumping of machines pounding in her ears. She should never have followed the road. She should have cut across country. And then she was falling. Falling into darkness.

* * *

When she came to her senses, she was in the carriage. It was rocking on its springs, tearing along at breakneck speed. And she was alone, lying on the seat with a blanket over her and a cushion beneath her head.

Where were they going? Where was Beresford?

She sat up, her head spun and she put a hand to temples that ached. A glance out of the carriage window told her they were pulling into the Abbey’s drive.

Her stomach sank to her shoes. She was back in his power. Back where he could do with her as he willed.

The carriage pulled up outside the great door to the Abbey. The driver leapt down in a crunch of gravel and wrenched open the door.

Beresford.

She covered her mouth with a shaking hand at the look of fury he cast her. Anger flashed in his eyes. ‘You little fool.’

The words were like a knife piercing her heart.

She should have gone across the fields when she had the chance.

‘You are right,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I am a fool.’ Because she hadn’t wanted to believe he wished her dead. She looked at him. ‘I was a fool to trust you.’

She ignored his hand and stepped down from the coach and, head