Page 59 of To Winter at Wildsyde

“Sir?” Garrick appeared from the door that led to the kitchens.

“Where is my wife?”

An expression flitted in Garrick’s eyes that Gordy did not like in the least.

“Actually, Mr Anderson, we aren’t entirely certain. I was about to come to you to suggest someone ought to—”

“What the hell do ye mean? It’s an hour or more since she left. It’ll be dark soon. Where did she go?”

Garrick swallowed, white faced. “Mrs Anderson is often a little vague about… about where exactly she will be walking. She values her privacy.”

Gordy looked out of the window, at the last traces of sunlight streaking across the darkening sky.

No. No, no, no.

“Get every able-bodied man out now!”

“At once, sir!” Garrick took off at a run as Gordy headed for the door, running towards the stables. He got there to find Clugston saddling his horse.

“Dougal, have ye seen Ruth?”

The man shook his head. “I havenae. Garrick said she wisnae back, so I was just about to take a look. She mentioned once that she likes to walk by the old ruins.”

“The castle?” Gordy’s heart seemed to shift in his chest, a cold, terrified sensation surging through him.

“The castle,” Mr Clugston agreed, his face grim. “I’m sure she’s fine only… only I just worried that maybe—”

“Give me yer horse, man,” Gordy demanded, not waiting for an answer but leaping onto its back and snatching up the reins. “Organise a search party and follow on, bring a rope and blankets in case…in case….”

He found he couldn’t speak the rest of the sentence but Clugston just nodded.

“I’ll see to it. Ye go find her, aye?”

“Aye.”

Gordy urged his horse on and gave a shout, encouraging the animal to surge forward, hooves clattering on the cobbles until they were outside the castle and riding hard. The cold stung his eyes and he cursed the sun, which had sunk below the horizon. The daylight was gone, replaced by the silver glimmer of the moon, and his terror only grew. The cliffs could be dangerous, the edges unstable. If she’d ventured too close….

Please God, no. She couldn’t have been taken from him. He’d wasted so much bloody time trying to get her to leave and now the idea of never seeing her again, of never telling her what was in his heart, was too terrible to contemplate.

God forgive me. God forgive me. Please, let her be all right.

***

Ruth suppressed a shiver and blew on her hands, trying to warm her fingers through the leather gloves. She’d never been so cold in her life. The wind had picked up a little and, now and then, a fine surge of sea spray reached her on the breeze, tiny prickles of ice water that made her clothes damp and her skin sting. Think positive thoughts, Ruth. At least she had a lovely view, that was something. It really was glorious, too, with the moon bright and full and glittering on the black expanse of shifting velvet laid out before her on all sides. Beautiful, and very, very cold.

Gordy would come, she told herself. No matter what, Gordy would come. She believed that and so she did not panic. It did not mean she was in high spirits, however. It might take him hours to discover where she was. There were many directions she could have gone for a walk, and if no one had noticed her leave, this would not necessarily be the first choice of places to search. She did not doubt for a moment that he was looking for her, though. Likely he’d roused the whole castle, but—reassuring as that thought was—it did not keep her warm nor take her mind from the dull throb in her ankle.

The wind gusted, creating an odd howling noise as it whipped around the cliffs and the ruined walls. It was a blood-curdling sound, provoking thoughts of spectres and bringing to mind every scary story she’d ever heard.

“Oh, really?” Ruth tutted, irritated. “Now I have to do battle with ghosts and headless horsemen, do I? As if this situation wasn’t ridiculous enough.”

As though she’d raised the ghostly creature from its grave with her sarcastic comments, the sound of hoofbeats reached her ear and her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch.

“Ruth!” Gordy’s voice, strong and urgent rang out over the wind and the crashing waves and Ruth’s heart stopped skittering about like the rabbit that had sent her over the edge and seemed to leap in her chest at the sound. “Ruth! Ruth, love, are ye here?”

“Gordy!” she shouted, overjoyed by his arrival. “Gordy, down here!”

“Ruth? Where, love?” he demanded, his voice getting closer, his anxiety audible. “Where are ye? Are ye hurt?”