Free Captive Heart by Phoenix Sullivan Page A

water-slicked rocks slowed it at last as it scrabbled for purchase. It didn’t occur to me the horse might not make it until it slid back into the water. Futilely I hauled again at its reins.
    At the top of the far bank Beau and Marrok at last appeared. They kicked their stallions down the steep slide even as my horse made another attempt at the rock ledge.
    We were halfway up when both front hooves slipped. With a sharp scream, the horse fell backward, heels over rump, toward the water.
    With threat of the horse landing on its back and trapping me, I half-jumped, half-fell sideways into the stream, my hip striking a jutted rock when I landed. The water, deep and swift, wasn’t my greatest peril. The thrashing horse next to me was. Hampered by skirts and the water’s rush, I quickly stopped fighting the water and used it to carry me away from the flailing hooves.
    But I’d underestimated the current’s strength and the weight of my gown. Even as I tried to kick my way to the bank against skirts too heavy to move, that encased my legs like stone, the water closed over my head and swept me away.

Chapter 18

Gareth / Beau
    “Lyn!”
    My heart froze when I saw her disappear. I angled my horse’s head and urged him into the water after her. Marrok rode off to cross further downstream.
    The bob of her horse’s head moved with chilling speed away from me. Had Lyn been struck by the horse when she fell from its back? Was she hurt? Unable to swim? Unable to surface? If she didn’t draw breath soon…
    I scanned the water in despair.
    “Lyn!”
    I urged my horse downstream. Heavier and stronger than Lyn’s mare, he swam with the current without fear of being swept away. Well ahead of us, Marrok and his steed paused mid-stream as they headed for the far bank. Had they found her?
    Although I knew Marrok was too far away to hear, I shouted, “Lyn?”
    But no, Marrok reached into the water, grabbed the panicked mare’s bridle, and led her up the bank where the ground sloped more easily into the stream. At water’s edge, he paused, from this distance looking nothing so much like a hound casting for scent.
    Then he pointed to a stretch of steep bank between us. Sliding from his horse, he ran on foot toward the area. We couldn’t miss her now—he on land and I in the water. Why I had such confidence in Marrok I didn’t know. Maybe because after last night he inspired my trust.
    What I didn’t trust was that we’d find Lyn alive.
    I saw her then, half out of the water, sprawled on the rocky ledge.
    Sliding from the saddle, I splashed the last few lengths to her. On the bank above, Marrok reached her just as I did.
    She lifted her head at our approach.
    Relief washed over me. She was alive. Exhausted but alive.
    “Take my hand.” Marrok braced himself on the ledge above her. As he pulled from above, I had the pleasure of pushing from below.
    Once safe, she clung to Marrok as I scrambled up beside them. Then she reached out to hug me close as well.
    “Are you hurt?” I asked.
    “Bumps and bruises is all. I just need a moment to catch my breath.”
    We found a clearing nearby to set up an early camp. I gathered deadwood while Marrok retrieved the packs that had spilled in the headlong rush and then led the pack horse across the water.
    “You’ll ride her from here on,” he told Lyn.
    “She’s sound and sensible,” I added. “She carried me from Orkney to Camelot.”
    Marrok and Lyn both eyed me sharply.
    I took a deep breath. Trust, I realized, sometimes had to be extended to be reciprocated. “Orkney is my home, Ravenscrag is my House, King Lot my father. My brother knights are Gawain, Uwain and Gaheris.” Already they were looking at me differently. And yet I was the same Beau that they had known. But I had come this far. If I could trust them with my legacy, I could entrust them with the last piece of me I most wanted them to know. Not because of who I was, but because of what they’d come to mean to me. “My