Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Barely a minute had passed before strong hands landed on her shoulders, massaging gently. “There, there, Merry. It’ll be all right.”
“Oh, Father.” She wiped her eyes with her wrist as her father rounded the table and slid into the chair opposite. She hated to tell him this, but postponing the inevitable wouldn’t help. “He’s gone. Rhys left.”
“I know.”
“I’m so sorry. I know you must be disappointed.”
“Me? Don’t worry about me, child.” He wrapped her hands in his own scarred, arthritic grip. “Rhys will be back. You’ll see.”
“You truly believe that?”
“I’m not the only one. They’re already starting another betting pool in the courtyard. Skinner’s taking wagers as to when Lord Ashworth will return.”
“Band of fools,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Bloody ingrates. After the way this village treated him, why would he ever want to come back?”
“For you, Merry. Everyone knows he’ll come back for you.” His eyes warmed and crinkled at the edges. “And my money’s on tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-six
“Oh, God,” Cora said. “What’s happened?” Rhys braced himself as the carriage began to move. Slowly at first. Then it picked up speed, rattling unimpeded down the slope they’d just climbed. “We’ve come unhitched from the team. Must have been the jolt just now.”
“Lord,” she said. “We’re all going to die.”
“Eventually.” Rhys stood, as much as he was able, and braced his hands on the hardtop carriage roof. Leveraging his strength, he kicked at the carriage door, blasting the latch to pieces. “But not today.”
“What are you doing?” Cora asked.
Rhys offered her his hand and a one-word explanation. “Jump.”
Her mouth dropped open as she looked toward the now-open door and the accelerating landscape rolling past. “Are you mad?”
Rhys took a brief glance out the carriage’s rear window. Just as he’d feared, the coach was speeding straight for the coastline—and those dramatic cliffs.
“It’s jump now or plummet later,” he insisted. When she still didn’t move, he motioned to Bellamy. “Get her out of here!”
“Right.” Bellamy shook off his surprise and leapt into action, grabbing Cora by the wrist and tugging her toward the open door. He stood behind the girl, wrapping one arm about her midsection and bracing the other on the rooftop.
Rhys would have jumped with Cora himself, but he could barely fit through the door on his own, much less with a girl in his arms. He hoped Bellamy didn’t cock it up. “Put your legs into it,” he said. “You have to clear the wheels.”
Bellamy nodded grimly. “On three, Cora. One … Two …”
Cora cringed. “Can’t we do it on five?”
The carriage jounced against some obstacle, and she screamed as the whole business teetered on two wheels.
The moment the coach crashed back to all four, Rhys made the decision. No more hesitating. Planting his boot on Bellamy’s backside, Rhys flexed his thigh and shoved with all his strength. “Three.”
Oddly satisfying. He’d been wanting to give Julian Bellamy a swift kick in the arse.
The two disappeared from the carriage, and when the entire conveyance didn’t snap an axle or overturn, Rhys assumed that meant they’d cleared the wheels. Time for him to follow.
But just as he made his way to the open door, the speeding coach hit a rock. Or perhaps it jumped the side of the road. No way to tell, but the thing went airborne for a stomach-launching second. Then it landed with a splintering crunch of wood, careening to one side.
Rhys was thrown away from the door, against the far side of the carriage. His head hit the window with a violent crack. The world oscillated between light and dark for a moment as he danced on the brink of consciousness.
When his wits returned to him, all he knew was that the carriage wasn’t rolling anymore. But neither had it come to a halt. The wrecked cab bounced and tumbled from one obstacle to the next, skipping down the rocky turf as it obeyed the pull of gravity. Progressing steadily toward that cliff.
Rhys could go with it. He could.
He lay stunned and breathless, a jumble of limbs on the floor. His head was pounding with pain. It would be so easy to just stay there. Allow the wreckage to carry him over the cliff and dash him on the rocks below. End it all, today.
He kept waiting for that voice to speak up, echo off the walls of his skull. Get up. Stand, you miserable wretch. Rise and take more.
It didn’t come. Unlike every other time he’d courted death, this time the dark cellar of his mind was eerily quiet. He didn’t hear his father goading and taunting him, forcing him back to life. The old bastard had finally been silenced.
Instead, he heard her. He heard Meredith. His beautiful, strong, sweet Meredith. Her words were the sounds echoing in his ears. I love you, Rhys. Stay. Don’t go.