Page 75 of A Perilous Passion

But the horse was. Her shouting and its unfamiliar burden were making it champ and toss its head.

Thinking quickly, she grabbed a nose bag from the wall and scrabbled about in the pungent darkness for the stash of oats. All fingers and thumbs, she somehow managed to pour a measure into the nosebag, then tugged the beast’s nose down and secured the bag over its head. After a couple of irritable snorts, the animal settled down to a wet snuffling and munching.

She spun back to Rafe.

Quickly, she removed the bag from his head. His eyes were closed, and there was no sign of life. He was gagged with a strip of cloth tied so tightly it bit into the edges of his mouth. She fought desperately with the knot until, at last, it came free.

Summoning all her strength, she dragged Rafe’s limp body from the horse. He thumped unceremoniously onto the ground, and she prayed he wasn’t injured in the fall, though, surely, that landing must have hurt.

He still didn’t move.

Refusing to despair, she slapped his face a few times, but his head just lolled from side to side. Seeing a bucket, she caught it up, raced to the horse trough to fill it, and threw the whole pail of water straight into his face.

Rafe made a choking, gurgling sound, and she fell to her knees, wiping the streaming water from his brow. Her heart, which had forgotten to beat for the last five minutes, leaped into life.

He wasn’t dead!

He gasped and coughed for a full minute, then sucked in a ragged breath. “In…my…boot.”

Though the effort seemed to drain him, she could sense his urgency. He wasn’t safe yet. Throwing wide the stable door to give herself more light, she dragged at his boots, and as they slid off, something fell to the floor with a clink. A small bottle she recognized as the one she’d given him for his horse affliction.

She held it out and he managed to take it from her, but croaked, “Other…boot.”

She shook the other one, and something else fell out with a metallic ring. Thank heaven. A knife!

After a brief struggle, she cut the bonds that held his feet, then his wrists. As soon as he was free, he put the bottle to his mouth and drank some of the liquid. After a shake of his head, he seized the knife, heaved himself upright, and staggered to the doorway.

“Shall I go for help?” she asked, hurrying to support him.

Hushing her with a gesture, he gasped out, “Ssh! They could still be nearby. They mustn’t know you’re alone.”

He took a step forward, but she grasped the back of his shirt. “Don’t go out there. You can hardly breathe and your hands are shaking. You’re in no fit state to fight anyone.”

“Damn it. The brutes tied the knots too tight. I just need a moment for the blood to flow back.”

She was frantic. There was danger on Rafe’s very doorstep, and she felt powerless. She had no weapon, no experience, and Rafe could hardly be expected to protect them when he could hardly stand.

Suddenly, a blast of anger flashed through her. How dare they? How dare the traitors or the smugglers or whoever the perpetrators were truss Rafe up so cruelly? If the reaction he had to horses were any more severe, he’d have suffocated by now. Thank goodness for the nostrum. Already he was breathing a bit easier.

The men who’d done this were obviously not simple free traders who provided goods to those who couldn’t afford them otherwise. They were decidedly not dashing heroes, defying the money-grasping edicts of the king and his corrupt customs officials.

They were merciless brutes who would have tortured and killed a good, courageous man.

A man she loved.

Suddenly, help was at hand. Paynter, one hand on the back of his head and a grim look on his face, came lumbering up. “Sorry, sir,” he croaked. “Half cracked my skull open, they did. You’re soaked, sir—and you, too, Miss. What happened? Where’s Hamblett?”

Rafe sucked down another choking breath. “I sent him on an errand.”

“Where’s the new recruit?”

“Young hot-blood stormed off.”

Her heart sank, and her anger heightened. This was all Justin’s fault. If he’d stayed where he was supposed to, Rafe might not nearly have died.

Rafe was right. She should never have brought Justin here. By doing so, she’d inadvertently put Rafe’s life at risk.

“You’d better get dry, the pair of you,” Paynter advised. “It gets cold quick this time of year, soon as the sun goes down.”