To Love a Horseguard (5 page)

“One of my men will take you.”

Rose was about to protest when a horse and rider galloped into the clearing. The dusty man jumped from the lathered brown horse before it stopped. He ran to Sergi shouting and pointing back in the direction he had come. Sergi shouted something in Russian and men came running from all directions carrying various weapons. They hurried to the corral, mounted horses and rode off. The young boy who had given her the bowl of meat brought two shaggy black horses forward. She backed up a step as Sergi turned his attention to her.

He lifted her up and tossed her onto the nearest horse, not bothering to pull down her skirts which bunched up around her knees. “We must go quickly.” He vaulted onto the saddle of the second animal and snatched up her horse’s lead rope.

Rose hunched over, clutching a handful of mane to keep her balance as the horses bolted. A second rider joined them as they galloped into the woods. She wanted to ask where they were going, but the jostling of her mount and the fear of falling off kept her quiet as she concentrated on clinging to the animal. Her mount’s neck became salty and sweat-caked, his breathing growing labored as they galloped on and on down the winding trail. Finally, when she thought the poor beast would collapse underneath her, Sergi slowed to a trot to give them a breather.

Rose sat up straighter in the saddle tr
ying to reclaim her balance as the man beside her said something to Sergi in Russian over her head. She clenched her teeth, annoyed they could speak to each other without her knowing what was being said. “What did he say? Where are we going?”

Sergi scowled at her
. “He said you better be quiet and ride. If the tsar’s Konnoguardeysky catches us they will shoot first and ask questions later.” He turned off the main trail onto a narrow path. Reaching over he released the rope holding her mount. Kicking his horse into a canter he took the lead leaving hers to follow. The other rider fell in line behind her.

Trapped between the two she h
ad no choice but to follow. Branches hit her face and tore at her dress as they wove their way through the tangled brush. She closed her eyes, ducking low on her horse’s neck to avoid the stinging slaps. Her thighs were beginning to ache from the punishing pace and squeezing them tight in effort to stay in the flat cloth saddle. Who or what was the Konnoguardeysky? Were they good soldiers or more bad rebels? Since Sergi referred to them as the tsar’s and they were after him, she had to assume they were royal guards of some kind.

She sat up as they came to a stop in a small clearing. A bubbling brook meandered through the center
that looked so fresh and inviting she began to salivate.

“We will stop here for a few minutes to rest and water the h
orses,” Sergi told her, before dismounting and kneeling to fill his canteen.

Rose slid to her feet and leaned against her hot, sweaty
horse. She brushed her tangled hair back from her face with a shaky hand. Her body was still so weak she feared if she sat down on the soft grass she would not be able to get up again. Perhaps that was a solution to her problem. If she couldn’t go on any further maybe Sergi would find her too much trouble and leave her here? She peered up at the canopy of green above her head.
Wherever here is.

Sergi finished filling his ca
nteen and took a long drink. If Rose’s mouth were not so dry and full of dust she would have drooled at the imaginings of cool water trickling down her own throat. He finished, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled at her. She closed her eyes, unwilling to let him know how desperate her craving was for a drink. Footsteps approached and she opened her eyes.

Sergi stopped in front of her and thrust the canteen to her mouth. “Drink.”

The cool water trickled into her mouth and down her chin. She swallowed as fast as possible to get her fill before he took it away, choking and sputtering in her haste. When she turned her head away he smiled and returned the canteen to his own lips, studying her as he drank.

She glared at him and wiped her mouth on her sleeve for lack
of a handkerchief. He grinned before turning his attention to his comrade. The latter unrolled a map and they turned their backs as they bent over the paper. Sergi glanced over his shoulder at her. “This would be a good time to take care of those bodily urges you were talking about earlier.”

Rose bit her lip, her face growing hot under his gaze.

He chuckled at her discomfort and pointed in the direction of some small bushes.

After waiting
until the two men were engrossed in their map she took her horse’s lead rope and walked around behind the bushes. When she made it to the spot without either man looking up her courage grew. She peeked around the greenery. The men were arguing with each other, not paying any attention to her at all. Taking a deep breath she scrambled up onto the horse and kicked it as hard as she could. The horse bolted back to the path with Rose clinging to the saddle.

L
ooking over her shoulder she spied the two men running to their horses. She crouched lower in the saddle and urged the beast even faster over the soft ground. As she rounded a sharp bend the trail forked. With only a short lead rope she had no choice but to let the horse choose his own way. The out-of-control animal veered left without pausing.

She glanced
back to see Sergi round the bend on his own mount. He was gaining on her. She turned her attention back to the path ahead as she came to the crest of a steep hill. Sheer panic gripped her mind. There was no way she would make it safely to the bottom at the speed she was going.

Without warning a
horse and rider broke through the bush to her right. She caught a glimpse of red and gold before they collided with her. Her frightened horse reared, lost its footing, and began slipping and sliding down the steep slope. Rose struggled to keep her balance. Her mind registered everything in slow motion as her horse crashed to its knees. She tried to hold on, but was hurled from its back. In desperation she closed her eyes and tucked her head tight to her chest hoping beyond reason to protect herself from the impact to come.

 
Chapter Four

Dimitry rode at the head of the column of soldiers and studied the ground. “A small group, probably including Sergi, separated here and went up through the woods.” He pointed to a small path which broke off from the larger one. “If we follow the main trail to the second fork we might still be able to cut them off at the brook.”

The column advanced single file at a gallop. Their horses were starting to tire by t
he time they pushed through the bush at the top of the steep slope. Dimitry signaled the patrol to stop and listened. He picked up the sound of a galloping horse. Spurring his mount forward he rode along the hill at an angle in an effort to cut off the advancing rider. The hoof beats grew louder until a horse and rider crested the ridge and plunged out of control down the other side. Dimitry’s attempt to check his speed failed, and his mount collided with them. The other horse reared and stumbled sideways, spilling its rider to the ground before the beast tumbled end over end to the bottom of the incline.

He struggled to calm his panic stricken horse. As he spun it around to get it under
control, he spied a second rider crest the hill. The rider seesawed on the reins until his horse slid to a halt, turned and fled back in the direction from which he came.

One of the soldiers
spotted him. “It’s Sergi!”

Dimitry reined his horse to a standstill. “Victor, stay here with me, the rest of you go after Sergi.”

The men charged after the fleeing rider as Dimitry released his pistol from its holster. He motioned to the rider-less horse. “Victor, go see to it.” After dismounting, he approached the still figure lying on the ground with caution. He nudged the body in the back with the toe of his boot and prepared to shoot. When there was no movement he placed his gun back in his belt and rolled the figure over.

He drew in a sharp breath at the discovery it was not a man as he expected, but a woman. Her eyes were closed. One side of her face was scraped and battered, the other covered in blood which oozed from a gash on her foreh
ead. He knelt down beside her, pushed aside her cloak and searched for a pulse. To his relief he found a faint, but steady one. The loud report of a pistol confirmed the welfare of the fallen horse had been seen to.

Victor returned
with his smoking pistol still in hand. “It’s back was broken.” He brushed a blond curl back from his forehead stopping short at the sight of the fallen rider. “Is that a woman?”

Dimi
try cast him a dirty look. “I believe that is what they look like, or so I have been told.”

Victor ignored his sarcasm. “What is she doing here?”

“I do not know. Maybe a better question would be, who is she?”

“Is she alive?” Victor put his pistol back in the holster at his waist.

“She is breathing.” Dimitry picked up the limp body. She smelled of horse sweat, salty sea air and the minty traditional peasant drink, Kvass. He pushed her into Victor’s arms.

His cousin adjusted his grip to keep from dropping her. “What are you doing?”

“I cannot just leave her here,” Dimitry pointed out.

Victor glanced back down at the woman, his facial expression comically pained. “Well what do you expect me to do with her?”

“Hold her so I can get back on my horse.” Dimitry growled. He caught his horse, led it back to Victor and mounted. “Pass her here.”

He handed the woman up to him. “Are you sure about this? What if she is a Cossack rebel? It might be wiser to wait until the patrol comes back.”

Dimitry shook his head.  “She is only a woman, damn it. What is she going to do, scratch me to death?”

“I see your point,” Victor relented.

Dimitry settled his nervous horse with one hand while he propped the woman’s limp form sideways against his chest. He waited until Victor caught and mounted his own horse before turning back onto the trail through the bush.

They rode in silence for a while, both men absorbed in t
heir own thoughts. Victor glanced over at him. “Are you sure she is still alive?”

Dimitry bent his head to
the woman’s mouth to check. Her breath tickled his cheek. “Yes.”

“What if she dies?”

“I do not know.”

Victor continued as if he had not answered. “Worse yet, what do we do if she awakens right now and panics? I mean, did you even check to see if she was carrying a weapon?  What if—”

“Victor,” Dimitry bellowed startling his horse, “Would you like to carry her home?”

“No. You are doing a fine job.”
He cast him a sheepish smile.

Dimitry grunt
ed. Sometimes his youngest cousin just rubbed his nerves raw.

Victor chuckled. “Yes a fine job. Of course we both know I have much more experience with the fairer sex than you. After all—”

“Victor,” Dimitry warned.

His cousin ignored him and continued. “I do have a way with the ladies as you well know. Why
, was it not I, who set you up with that pretty girl when we—”

“Victor,” Dimitry ground out between clenched teeth, “now is not the time to remind me of past foolish indiscretions.”

They rode in silence for a moment. Dimitry cast a sideways glance at his cousin. The man was staring the ground, his lips pressed into a thin line. He supposed he should apologize. It was not like him to be so short-tempered with the younger man. He usually found Victor’s sense of humor a welcome distraction.

Victor glanced up
with a mischievous smile as if he heard Dimitry’s thoughts. “Well, I believe I will ride on ahead to the camp and let them know you are bringing in an injured woman.” With a chuckle he spurred his horse into a canter.

“Victor! You cannot just leave me here alone with her.”

Victor looked back over his shoulder. “Why not? What is she going to do, scratch you to death?” he teased, and cantered on, his laughter carrying back to Dimitry.

Dimitry urged his horse into a trot. The bouncing made hanging onto the woman too difficult
so he slowed back to a walk.

“Traitor,” he mumbled under his breath looking down at the woman. Of all the things to bring back from a raid he had to come home with a woman.
Simpering, flirting creatures, fainting at every little thing.
All they wanted to do was dance and gossip. Everyone knew all women did was plot how to snag a rich man and then nag him to death like an old shrew. It was enough to make him ill.

The woman in his arms moaned as if protesting his thoughts
.
Even unconscious, the woman is complaining.
He shook his head. There was no way he was going to be trapped into marriage by one, although the thought of not having any children, which he enjoyed, was dismal. He scowled down at the woman.
What is wrong with me? Why do my thoughts turn to marriage?
He shifted the woman’s weight and she snuggled into his chest with a soft sigh, her tangled hair tickling his chin. He tried to think of something else besides the warm body draped in such a provocative way in his lap, but failed.
Hell and damnation! This is ridiculous.
To his relief the rest of his patrol caught up with him.