Her Assassin's Heart - Book 2

Chapter 15

 A streak of lightening coursed across the sky, and a rolling clap of thunder followed behind like a wrathful growl. Threatening clouds covered the dark sky, blocking out any light from moon or stars. The air had turned cold and unwelcoming, and she was alone.

She didn't know how far she had ridden before she lost control. Something had startled her horse—probably the way she was bouncing around in the saddle like a bobble. She couldn't recall all the details, but somehow, she'd been on the ground, her legs still tangled in the saddle.

Honestly, the working class were so unreliable these days! That foolish stablehand hadn't tightened the girth properly. Incompetent fools, the whole lot of them! She could do their jobs better than they did any day of the week.

Perhaps not today. She thought to herself ruefully. Or tomorrow. She added, wincing at the pain in her leg and back as she walked. It could have been worse, though, she reminded herself. Sally McMillan had fallen from her horse right before she had her first season. She was still alive, but a part of her had died in the fall. She wasn't fully connected in her mind any longer.

It must have been dinner time at least an hour ago, and Cassandra's stomach growled fiercely. She was lightheaded and tired. In the fall, her sense of direction—whatever that was—had been muddled, and unsure where she was in relation to Fergus Manor, she had begun to walk in what seemed the most sensible course.

At this moment, however, she was beginning to doubt whether that had been a wise idea. Surely, if she had gone the correct way, she would have come upon the manor house by now. What if—

She squashed the fear rising in the pit of her stomach. Grinding her teeth together, she pushed herself to go faster. Increasing her speed only brought more pain to her injured foot, though, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out. She was going to find her way, and she was going to report that insufferable servant to Charles and Irene.

Unlike sweet Lavinia, her anger would not be extinguished or dulled by the passing of time. The longer she was forced to limp along, the more forceful her anger became. It was the one clear thing in her muddled head. Oh, how she would love to have that. . .that impossible man here where she could give him everything she had and more. That would be satisfying.

Just as she was beginning to wonder if she would pass the night exposed to the elements, a cluster of lights appeared. As she drew nearer, she could make out a little village, and her heart swelled with pride. She had made it, and she had done it on her own. Here, there would be someone to assist her and return her to the manor, or she would find a place to take shelter for the night.

Her pace quickened despite the pain it caused. She was sure she would find warm food and a bed for the night in the safety of the village. Someone would help her.

Large drops of rain began to spill from the sky just as she reached the muddy streets. There were a few lights on, but she didn't see an inn. An innkeeper would be the most helpful person to go to. They would know everyone in town, and they would also provide food of some sort.

She shivered as she stepped into the glow of one of the lights, inspecting her surroundings and trying to decide what to do next. She bit her lip as a door opened further up the street and a man staggered outside. The sound of raucous laughter and heavily slurred speech informed her what sort of establishment the building was.

The man swayed slightly and began to sing loudly. Cassandra averted her gaze, surveying the rows of buildings a second time. There had to be somewhere she could take shelter from the pouring rain.