Read Online Jamintha by Jennifer Wilde - Free Book Online

through the crevice, I left my private place, but I did not turn back the way I had come. Instead, I continued to follow the well worn path, winding among the enormous stones and eventually reaching the barren ground again. The land was hilly here, rolling with sudden slopes, and there were cracks where the earth had split open. There were gleaming black stretches of peat here too, these unmarked by any stakes, and a few trees grew, stark in the emptiness, twisted into bizarre shapes by the tormenting wind.
    I was not lost. I did not consciously know where I was, but I knew I could find my way back to Danver Hall, just as I had found my way to the pool with its mossy bank. I knew this land, responded to it with a part of myself, and years of separation had made no difference. I walked over the rocky slopes, the wind a live thing accompanying me every step of the way, caressing my cheeks with vigorous strokes, lifting my skirts. My braids were beginning to come undone, strands of hair spilling out of place, but I paid no attention. I was not used to this much exercise, but it did not tire me. It seemed, instead, to have the reverse effect. I felt stronger, more certain of myself than I had felt in quite a long time.
    There was a distant sound I could not identify, a pounding, rumbling noise, and then a horse galloped over the horizon, startling me. It was a magnificent beast, a black stallion with glossy skin and powerful muscles that rippled as it raced toward me, the heavy hooves kicking up clumps of soil. The saddle was empty, the bridle flapping wildly. The animal seemed bent on trampling me. Stunned, too terrified to cry out, I watched as it sped closer. It reared up not five yards away, snorting viciously, hooves waving in the air, and then it galloped off in another direction, disappearing over a slope. A hand pressed over my rapidly beating heart. Nerves shaken, I listened as the sound of hooves grew fainter and then were gone.
    Someone was in trouble. Someone had been thrown out of the saddle. I hurried forward, alarmed. The man might be seriously hurt. A person could die of exposure on these moors. His leg broken, no way of summoning aid, a man could perish. Reaching the slope where the horse had first appeared, I paused, peering in every direction, but there was nothing but desolate land and those treacherous stretches of black. How would I ever find him? What was I going to do?
    The groan was quite audible. It came from the narrow gully only a few yards from where I stood. I moved rapidly, and in a moment I was staring down at the man sprawled on the ground. He wore glossy black knee boots and tight gray breeches. A white silk shirt with billowing sleeves and a Byronic collar was open at the throat. His unruly black hair fell in a tangled mass over his forehead, and his eyes were closed. He was even more handsome than two nights before when I had seen him coming out of the pub.
    â€œAre—are you hurt?” I stammered.
    The man opened his eyes and stared at me, but I could see that he was not able to focus properly. The eyes were a very vivid blue. They looked glazed. He groaned again and struggled into a sitting position, wincing as he did so. He shook his head and blinked his eyes, and then he peered up at me again. The beautifully shaped mouth curled into a boyish grin. He was obviously drunk.
    â€œGood thing you happened along, wench,” he said.
    â€œAre you able to stand? Here, let me help you up.”
    I reached down for his hand, intending to pull him to his feet. With a boisterous laugh he seized my hand, jerked me into his lap and imprisoned me in strong arms, crushing me against him.
    â€œâ€™Ow about a tumble, lass? No one around to bother us. It’s a glorious opportunity, what?”
    I struggled violently. He grinned and wound his arms tighter around me, hurting me. His mouth fastened over mine, the firm lips urgent and demanding, and in one quick motion he swerved around until I