The Countess by Catherine Coulter

not going anywhere. How do you feel?”

I felt his arms tighten around me. I felt no instant shudder of fear. I felt

rather safe, cherished. It was a nice feeling. “Oh, dear,” I whispered, “let me

up?now. Quickly.”

He let go of me instantly. I jerked up, twisted about, and retched into the

daffodils beside me.

When my head was hanging down, and I wanted to die my head hurt so badly, I felt

his arms come around me again. He wiped his handkerchief over my mouth, then

gently eased me back into his arms.

“Is that better now?”

“Yes, but my head is going to fall off next, that or split open. That would be a

mess. I wish you could make it all stop. I don’t like this at all.”

“I don’t blame you. Just lie still and listen to me. You don’t have to think or

anything else, just listen and don’t move. That’s right. Just breathe slowly,

lightly. Good. Now, when I brought Tempest down, I turned to see Small Bess

corkscrew in midair, then you flying over her head. What happened? Did she slip?

How did she manage to throw you? If you wish, if you feel like it, you can talk

now.”

My eyes flew open as memory flooded back. I tried to sit up, but he held me down.

“No, don’t move. What’s the matter?”

“Oh, God, there is something very wrong, John. Small Bess was maddened, frantic,

and I couldn’t calm her. Please, go see to her.”

“In a moment. First, can you move your legs?”

I could. I didn’t want to, but I could and I did, because I knew he’d keep after

me until I proved that I could.

He was running his hands over my ribs, then my arms. I allowed it. I had no

choice. Also, to my surprise, I still wasn’t terrified to my toes, and he was

the same as he’d always been?too big, too strong, and too dangerous. You could

just look at him and know he was dangerous. And he had held me close and safe

against him.

“All right, I’ll check her now,” he said. He eased me down on the ground and

pulled off his riding jacket. He folded it and gently eased it under my head. “If

you move, I won’t be pleased with you.”

“Prepare to be pleased with me, then,” I whispered, and he smiled. .

Some minutes later, he pulled me again gently into his arms. He began rocking me

very slowly, very gently.

“How is she?”

“I don’t think we will have to put her down. Rucker is very good with injuries,

as is my valet, Boynton. Her right foreleg appears badly sprained. And there are

some bad cuts on her back. We’ll see.”

“I can help,” I said. “I spent many hours in the stable at Deerfield Hall

learning how to care for the horses. Oh, God, I can’t allow her to be put down.

It must have been my fault. I must have done something?”

He spoke slowly, his voice measured. “It wasn’t your fault. Be quiet now.”

I tried to focus on his face until it was clear to me. He looked grim. He also

looked furious.

“No,” I said. “I didn’t cram her, did I, John?”

“No, of course not. You’re much too good a rider.” He drew a deep breath, and

when he spoke, his voice was utterly emotionless. “I told you there are some bad

cuts on her back. Well, I discovered this under her saddle.”

In his hand he held a large, circular band of wire. Attached to the wire were

long barbs, bent downward. The barbs were covered with blood, Small Bess’s blood.

I just lay there and gaped at that horrible thing he carefully held in his hand.

“No, that isn’t possible, it just isn’t. Who would do such a thing?”

“Someone placed this beneath her saddle. That someone knew it would madden her.

Every time you shifted in the saddle, every time you tightened your legs, the

barbs dug into her back. When you readied for her to jump, Small Bess had to be

in great pain, and that’s why she tried as hard as she could to get you off her