At dawn she crept out of the house and to the stable without alerting Brinkley, dodged Romero, who had fallen asleep in the carriage house waiting for her, and selected the sturdiest riding horse. Her legs had received enough rest that they held her up with relatively little pain as she saddled and bridled her mount. After several tries, she made it into the saddle.
It felt strange to hold the reins again, to feel the power of a horse at her command. Her legs were by no means back to normal, but they seemed more capable with every passing hour, and she had little fear that they would betray her when she needed them most.
They, like the servants, like the circus folk, could be trusted. As she knew she could trust her own heart.
Before sunrise she left the house and all her doubts behind. For the first time in her life, she wondered if she would ever return.
I am coming, Morgan. You will not face my brother alone. And when we meet again, the whole truth will finally be spoken.
Niall pushed his exhausted horse a few more paces and then reined it in, looking down on tree and meadow from the rocky escarpment that bordered the southern end of the park.
The weather had been clear all during his journey into the mountains. Driven by rage and little else, he had made it halfway to the ranch before he realized that he and his mount needed a few hours of rest and sleep.
Even so, it had taken him only a few hours longer than usual to cover the distance from Denver, and it was just midday. His anger had been muted by weariness, but the sight of the ranch sprawled out below, and the numerous figures scurrying among the buildings, rekindled his determination.
Before the sun set, he’d have it out with Morgan Holt once and for all.
He clucked to the horse and guided it down the steep pack trail into the valley, a much more difficult and direct route than the road through the pass. Oddly enough, it was not thoughts of Morgan that accompanied him. The face he saw in his mind’s eye belonged to someone else entirely—mocking and impish and topped by a tangle of curling red hair.
Caitlin. She was down there, as unsuspecting as the rest that he was on his way. What would she think if she knew he was coming? Would she mock him and spit in his eye the way she had done when she’d defended Morgan and Athena? Or would she… might she possibly…
His mouth curled in disgust. She had deceived him just as much as the others. She’d led him to think that she risked permanent crippling if she didn’t have proper rest and quiet.
The doctor said as much, he reminded himself. You had no reason not to believe him.
Yet that same doctor had predicted that Athena would never walk again. So much for the opinions of doctors. Caitlin was strong enough to stand between him and something he wanted. His sister had turned from an obedient, well-bred, and quiet young lady to a willful, defiant hussy. It was no coincidence that she had become so only after close association with the circus.
And with the former convict Morgan Holt.
Niall gritted his teeth and felt the horse let out a great breath as it reached level ground. Little eddies of snow whirled about its hooves. No one else had come this way in some time… nothing human, at any rate. The air was brisk and cold, with a stillness that suggested bad weather to come.
Sensing food and refuge very near, the horse picked up its pace and set off across the park at a trot. Niall didn’t mind the jarring. Physical discomfort drove the image of Caitlin from his mind. A man couldn’t think of a woman when his legs ached and his fingers were numb.
Unless he began to picture a fire, a tumbler of whiskey, and a warm bed already occupied by a supple, naked, and very female body…
The horse snorted as he jerked on the reins. Damn it. He’d see the witch soon enough, and the reality would abolish these ridiculous fancies. Lust for one such as Caitlin Hughes? It embarrassed him. Yet when he tried to imagine Cecily Hockensmith sharing his bed, he shuddered with something far worse than embarrassment.