Free Dark Angel by Tracy Grant Page B

withered bits of grass, still frozen in stiff, defiant spikes. Caroline shivered. She had made this journey three months before with only a peasant guide for company, but she had been foolish then and unaware of the dangers. Now she knew enough to be afraid.
    She heard the whinny of a horse and a man's voice making soothing noises. A moment later they reached a rocky plateau, and she saw Hawkins adjusting the saddle of a small, dark brown horse. There were three horses, Caroline saw with relief, and the dark brown one carried a lady's saddle. She would not have to ride with Adam, a possibility that had made her uneasy. She had not yet sorted out her feelings for Adam. Anger warred with concern for his well-being, but anger was uppermost. She saw the same conflict in Adam's face. He was curt to the point of rudeness, but then he must also be in pain. It was much too soon for him to travel.
    "I was wondering when you'd turn up." Hawkins glanced sharply at Adam, then turned his attention to the mule that carried their provisions.
    "The lady had farewells to make." Adam moved to a large bay horse and stroked its muzzle. "Have they eaten?" he asked Hawkins.
    Hawkins nodded. All three horses were tough and lean, but they looked underfed, as did every animal that survived in this bleak country. "Horses are hard to come by, ma'am," he said to Caroline. "We'd hoped to bring another for your husband, if he was fit to ride, but the little brown mare was the best we could do."
    "I'm sure she'll do very well, Mr. Hawkins."
    "Just plain Hawkins, ma'am, if you don't mind. It's my given name. The last name is Plumb and I don't much care for it."
    Emily followed this exchange intently. "Is the mule for me?" she asked, looking up at the large long-legged animal that was shaking its head in seeming annoyance.
    Hawkins took Caroline's bundle and stowed it in one of the two panniers attached to the mule's pack-saddle. "I think not," he said, intent on adjusting the weight of the panniers.
    "I can ride," Emily insisted. "I can ride a burro."
    "I don't doubt it," he said, smiling down at her. "I don't doubt you can ride a mule if it comes to that. But this one's a bad-tempered fellow, and he has just about all he can carry. You'd best ride with one of us."
    Emily looked at Adam, who was helping Caroline into the saddle of the brown horse. "With Mama?"
    "Of course with me," Caroline said, reaching down for her daughter. She had held Emily before her throughout the long journey from Portugal. Throughout most of it, at least. There had been rough places where she had been forced to relinquish Emily to the guide.
    "With all respect, ma'am," Hawkins said, "your horse is small. She can ride with me. Or with Mr. Durward when he's fit for it."
    "I'm fit for it now, if you'll lift her up." Adam was already on the bay.
    Emily looked from one man to the other. "With you," she said, taking Hawkins's hand.
    Adam gave a wry smile. "In that case, I'll lead the mule."
    Hawkins was a kind man, Caroline decided, a man she could trust to carry her daughter. Younger than she had thought when she saw him in action against the young Frenchman, no older than Adam, tough yet gentle. She saw now that Hawkins walked with a slight limp and wondered how he had come by it.
    Adam reached for the mule's bridle while Hawkins tossed Emily on his own horse and mounted quickly behind her.
    Caroline took a perverse pleasure in her daughter's choice of riding companion. The feel of Adam's hands when he helped her mount had reminded her all too forcibly of the intimacies which had angered and disturbed her the day before. Her body, starved for a man's touch, persisted in betraying her. Annoyed with her weakness, she picked up the reins and set her horse in motion.
    They rode along a narrow, rock-strewn path, Adam in the lead, Hawkins bringing up the rear. The path led down the hill in torturous turns, forcing them to ride slowly. A sheer wall of rock rose on their right, and on their