“Do you hear that?” he asked.
I frowned, getting to my feet. Closing my eyes, I singled out the sounds reaching my ears. The water running over the rocks and tree roots. The wind rustling the leaves. Birds calling to each other. Creatures scurrying through the underbrush and matting of fallen leaves and twigs. My eyes sprang open. Horses’ hooves.
“Yes.”
“Quickly.” He helped me onto Admiral before mounting at my front. I held on as Sebastian guided us away from the water and into the dense growth. We weaved through the trees until the canopy closed in, strangling any light-rays that attempted entry. And then we stopped. And waited.
Admiral Caine’s tail swished, his nostrils flared. My shoulders kissed my ears. The noise of their approach grew louder before it seemed to fade. I hung my arms by my side, releasing a rush of air. Whomever they were, we had successfully avoided them.
Bang.
A gunshot rang out, startling the sleeping forest. Admiral squealed, rearing onto his hind legs. I snatched at Sebastian’s shirt, but not fast enough to gain purchase. Tumbling off the saddle, I hit the ground with a thud, the wind stolen from my lungs.
“Emmeline!”
My mouth opened and closed in an attempt to draw air, but none came. I cradled my chest, grimacing, terrified of what I was seeing. Sebastian battled to hold on to his seat as he struggled to gain control of the horse. The muscles and tendons in his arms and neck strained, his face mirroring the fear carving a hole in my gut. Jumping free, he tumbled to the ground a few yards away. Admiral took flight, stealing any chance of our escape.
No. I dropped my chin. No.
Sebastian scrambled over to me before folding me into his embrace. “Breathe,” he pleaded.
Once more I opened my mouth, finally with avail. I pulled my shoulder blades together as my lungs inflated.
Our heads jerked at the cracking of twigs under foot. I clutched at Sebastian, my mouth drying. They’d caught us.
“Over here!” The shout preceded the appearance of three police on horseback, truncheons drawn, cutlasses sheathed at their sides. Shiny brass buttons lined up on the front of their tunics. Their faces were set in grim lines under the shield of their helmets.
Behind them, another horse approached. The earl. His scowl was enough to curdle my blood and turn my stomach to dust.
“Seize the horse-thief. The girl is mine.”
I screamed as two officers ripped Sebastian away. The earl pulled my arms behind the small of my back, locking them in his grasp. Snaking his other arm across my chest, he gripped my throat. “Hush now, my beloved. The constabulary have him in hand.”
Beloved? A gross misrepresentation of his feelings for me in order to fool the authorities. Beloved was a sentiment that would never apply to our particular relationship. I stomped my heel on top of his boot and his hand tightened around my neck. “Careful, little fugitive. You are collecting more punishments than you can handle. I advise you to surrender before something nasty happens to your plaything.” The cold hard press of steel into my back chilled my revolt.
He had pulled the trigger knowing it would spook the horse. And now he threatened to hurt Sebastian. I could not test his resolve.
“All right, sir?”
“Yes, officer. Everything is fine. Take him away. I shall see that my bride makes it home safely.”
The officers tapped their hats in salute and rode off with Sebastian. He sat astride in front of one officer. Wrists bound by rope, he mouthed a final, “I love you,” before disappearing. Would it be forever?
The darkness closed in and settled within every fibre of my being, winding me all over again. I fractured into pieces, releasing a wail so loud rabbits, squirrels, and deer scattered for shelter. The earl slapped his dirty hand over my mouth, but I didn’t stop. Nothing would stem this release of anguish.
A moment later, the earl proved me wrong with the butt of his gun, a crack of pain registering a moment before everything went black.
Andrea
Rockhampton, Australia
18th of May, 2009
I opened my eyes on Sunday morning to find myself alone. A knot immediately formed in my gut.
Gone.
The word sprang to mind—an answer to a question I hadn’t asked, and the knot tightened. I reassured myself it was fine. He hadn’t necessarily said he’d be staying the night. And Bree would have questions if he had anyway. It was the sensible thing to do. Then doubt put a tilt on things. Maybe he’d just gone to the loo, or to grab something from the kitchen?
Gone.
The knowledge was more forceful this time. It held more weight, more sorrow.
I pressed my lips together and swallowed the lump in my throat. I checked my phone. There were no new messages. Had he left a note somewhere? I looked on the night stand, on my sheets, on the floor, under the pillow. Nope. Not that I could see. I typed out a quick, ‘Hey, where’d you go?’ text. Placing my mobile on the pillow where he’d slept beside me, I waited. It didn’t vibrate, or light up. It lay there lifeless, inanimate, its silence mocking the rising panic inside me. Its quiet an echo of the void he’d left behind.
Maybe he was still asleep? Oh, cut the crap. Okay, so he’d gone. Expectations remember? But was it so wrong to expect your boyfriend to leave some form of goodbye, good morning, thank you for the great sex, let’s do it again soon?
Stupid tears sprang to my eyes. A lack of expectations was no good if you didn’t also have boundaries. The two seemed incongruous, but they worked hand in hand. I could love him and expect nothing in return. Love was a state
