Redemption of a Fallen Woman Page 0,72

voice in her ear.

'Don't be afraid. I'll get you out of this.'

Chapter Seventeen

Harry made no attempt to fight the current. Instead he let it carry them for another two hundred yards until a curve in the river brought them naturally into the shallows where the water was slower and only thigh-deep. Finding his feet at last he put an arm around Elena's waist and dragged her upright. He felt her stagger and glanced down at her pale face. Her skin was icy to the touch but she was alive. He frowned, his emotions torn between anxiety and relief. Lifting her bodily out of the water he waded ashore and sat her down carefully on the shingle bank. Then he knelt beside her.

'Elena? Elena, look at me.'

She became aware of a man's coat, wet and rough against her cheek, and grey eyes looking anxiously into hers. Rather uncertainly she stared back.

'Are you all right, sweetheart?'

She nodded, eventually finding her voice again. 'I...I think so.'

'Thank heaven for that. You gave me quite a fright back there.'

'My horse fell in a hole. For a while I really thought I was done for.'

'Surely you didn't think I'd give you up so easily?'

Her gaze held his. 'I'm glad you didn't. Thank you.'

'No thanks are required.' He surveyed her critically. 'What is required is to get you indoors in front of a fire. You're chilled to the bone and paler than a lily.'

He hauled her onto her feet. Just then Jack and Concha appeared with the horses. When they saw their companions alive and apparently unscathed their relief was evident.

'Madre mia! I feared we had lost you,' said Concha.

'I thought so myself for a while,' replied Elena, shuddering.

'You look awful. Ghastly pale.'

Jack frowned. 'We'd best get you in t'warm, my lady.'

'My thought exactly,' said Harry.

'Next town's not far off. According t'map, it's not above a mile up t'road.'

Harry nodded, privately thanking heaven that they weren't stuck in the middle of nowhere. 'Right, we'll go there at once.'

With the aid of his arm Elena staggered to her horse, feeling very cold and uncharacteristically shaky. The thought of another ride was distinctly unappealing, but there was no choice about that now. She eyed her mount with misgivings; somehow it seemed a lot bigger than it had before, its back much further away. In the event she was spared the trouble of mounting. Assessing the situation with complete accuracy, Harry picked her up and she experienced a brief sensation of weightlessness as he tossed her lightly into the saddle. Then, keeping a firm hold on her reins, he remounted his own horse and they set off.

Fortunately, Jack was right: it wasn't very far at all to town. He and Concha lost no time in locating an inn and bespeaking rooms. The place was unpretentious but it was clean. Harry lifted Elena off her horse and carried her indoors, firing off a series of instructions to the startled patron as he went. Within a relatively short time Elena found herself in a spacious private chamber in front of a cheerful fire. Harry set her down and surveyed her critically.

'We need to get you out of those wet things.'

'You're wet too.'

'I'll worry about that presently. Right now I'm more concerned about you.' He stepped closer and unfastened her jacket, dragging it off her shoulders. Then he sat her in a chair and bent down to pull off her boots.

'Can you manage the rest?'

She nodded dumbly.

'Good.' He handed her a couple of linen towels. 'You'll need these.'

Leaving her to get on with it he began to peel off his own wet clothing. Elena struggled out of her sodden breeches and then glanced round. Harry had his back to her so she pulled off her shirt and, with fumbling fingers, wrapped the first linen sheet around herself. Then she turned towards the fire again and began to dry her hair with the other while he finished undressing. He stripped and fastened a towel around his waist. The sight of that hard-muscled body sent a tremor through her that had nothing whatever to do with cold.

Unaware of the inner turmoil he was causing, he set to, draping their wet clothing over chairs to dry in front of the hearth. When he had done that he straightened and turned towards her, regarding her critically. Under that penetrating stare Elena felt suddenly self-conscious.

'I look like a drowned rat, don't I?'

'Not the expression I was going to use,' he replied. 'But you still look mighty pale,