Read Online Her Dearest Enemy by Elizabeth Lane - Free Book Online

onto the bank. Over her protests,however, he had insisted she take care of thehorses first.
    What a stubborn, proud, irritating, impossibleman he was!
    “Harriet, I asked you how much longer.”
    “I’m working as fast as I can,” she said, wishing he’djust be quiet. “I should have her loose in a few minutes.”
    “How’s she doing?”
    “Hard to say—” Harriet winced as the bladeslipped and jabbed her thumb, leaving a dark bead ofblood. “Her head’s still up. We’ll soon know the rest.”
    “Fine,” he said. “Just hurry.”
    Harriet felt the sudden give as the knife slicedthrough the last of the harness that held the mare. Herheart hammered as she lifted the sodden collar fromaround the straining neck. “Come on, girl,” shecoaxed. “Get up now.”
    The mare’s legs worked furiously as she struggledto right herself. Harriet had tried earlier to determinewhether any bones were broken, but with the darkness,the mare’s thrashing legs and the icy, movingcurrent, there was no way to be sure. Either way,Duchess had spent her strength. If she was toochilled and exhausted to get up, they were going tolose her.
    “How’s she doing? Can she get her feet underher?” Brandon’s voice rasped with anxiety.
    “Not…yet.” Harriet moved through the knee-deepcurrent and braced herself behind the strugglingmare. Bracing against a rock, she pushed with all herstrength against one massive, water-slicked shoulder.“Please, Duchess…” she murmured under her breath.“Please get up…”
    She might as well have been trying to move theRock of Gibraltar. The mare’s legs kicked against theicy current, but the heavy mass of her body did notbudge. Either she had broken a leg, or she was toochilled and exhausted to get on her feet.
    From beneath the overturned landau, Harrietcould hear Brandon cursing in helpless frustration.She could see the fumbling motion of one hand ashe moved it under his coat. Her heart plummeted asshe realized he was working the pistol out of its holster.She found herself praying silently that the gunwould be too wet to fire.
    “Take it,” he growled. “Put her out of her misery.”
    Harriet paused for breath, her arms supporting themare’s straining neck. “Oh, please,” she begged, tearswelling up in her eyes. “There has to be somethingmore we can do! Let me help you get loose. Maybethen we can—”
    “My leg’s broken, Harriet,” he said in a blade-thinvoice. “I can’t see it, but I can tell it’s bad, and I don’tthink you’re strong enough to lift this buggy off me.I’d take care of Duchess myself, but I can’t get a clearshot from here, and I don’t want to wound her. Nowcome get this damned pistol. Then, if you can’t gether up, do what you have to!”
    Harriet could not answer him. She was gazingdown at the soft-eyed mare and choking on her ownsobs. Brandon was right, she knew. If Duchesscouldn’t stand up, a bullet in the brain would give hera swifter, more merciful death than freezing ordrowning. But the thought of pulling the trigger sickenedher.
    “Harriet, did you hear me?” Brandon’s voicerasped with impatience, but Harriet detected an underlyingthread of anguish. He cared for this beautifulmare, she realized; and he couldn’t bear towatch a cherished animal suffer because a silly,weakhearted woman couldn’t do what was requiredof her.
    The mare’s eyes were dark velvet pools.
    “Harriet?”
    Blinded by tears, Harriet flew at the mare, slappingthe wet flanks, jabbing the massive rump withthe toes of her boots. “Get up!” she shouted. “Get up,blast you to hell!”
    To hell … to hell … The words bounced off the cliffand echoed down the narrows. The silence that followedwas like a deep, shocked gasp, as if Harriet’slanguage had stunned nature itself. For the space ofa breath, everything seemed to freeze. Then, suddenly,the mare began to snort and thrash and roll.With a powerful lurch, she staggered to her feet andstood quivering in the