Excerpt from “Duke and Destiny”:
The rainstorm had arrived, unannounced. Duke was drenched. The sporadic clouds had been whipped together by a strong wind, which had also appeared with no warning. Rain poured from the heavens onto Duke’s back, running down in rivulets along the hairs of his legs. It was the same for his man, who sat huddled upon the wagon, his great coat shut tight against the weather, his hat drooping under the onslaught of so much water upon it.
But onward they must. They had promised a delivery to Chadwick Hall, and Master Reid took his role as farmer very seriously. Besides, it was barely a mile to go now. They were already soaked. It couldn’t get any worse.
As if the storm would say otherwise, a bolt of lightning tore through the darkened sky, splitting and arcing in two fierce spears, one cracking a branch free from a nearby tree, the other triggering a scream a short distance behind them.
Duke would perhaps have let out a cry in shock too, but the sight of a mare tearing past them at great speed startled him doubly, so that he came to a complete stop to gather himself in silence.
From out of the moody purple air came a call.
“Help!”
It wasn’t very loud. Certainly, it struggled to be heard against the backdrop of the thunder and downpour that dominated the scene.
“Help!” came the call again. A little closer this time.
Duke’s man jumped from his seat, crying, “Whoa!”, which Duke thought rather unnecessary, as he hadn’t moved a muscle since they had stopped.
The sound of Master Reid’s running feet splashing through muddy puddles was largely ignored by Duke. He merely waited patiently, despite the rain’s attempt to soak him beyond his already saturated state. Duke was a very steady sort of fellow. He worked hard. He ate well. He enjoyed the company of others. It was a simple life. Which was why he barely shifted his weight while Master Reid charged off back down the road.
It wasn’t long before his man returned with company. Duke did not even have to turn his head to know from the perfume that the new human person was of the mare persuasion. Yet even in the rain, he could smell another, more familiar scent. The huge muscles in his shoulders flexed as he bent his neck to the side, breathed more deeply, and concentrated.
Willow. The scent was unmistakable. It was imprinted upon him. He raised his chin and neighed into the distance, as if Willow—for it must have been she who had bolted past them a minute ago—could hear him.
“Steady on there,” said Master Reid kindly, misunderstanding his call. “We’ll get you to shelter soon.”
With the young, dark-haired woman now seated next to Duke’s man, they set off again, Master Reid talking in low, reassuring tones to her as he would to Duke if he had had a fright.
They had barely covered a hundred yards when a horse came racing down the road toward them with some fellow on his back. At the sight of the young woman on the wagon, the man pulled at the reins, the smell of relief rolling off him in dense waves.
“Miss Richards!” the man shouted over the noise of the storm. “You’re safe! When I saw your horse come back alone, I was so worried!”
“You’re the groom from Chadwick Hall, aren’t you?” asked Master Reid. When the man nodded, Master Reid did the same, adding, “I’ll bring Miss Richards to the house. Got a delivery to make there, anyway. Tell a maid to ready a warm blanket and a bowl of hot water for the young lady’s feet.”
“I’m sorry for the trouble, Shelton,” said the young woman. “Willow surprised me with her enthusiasm to be off. It was not my intention to leave you behind. I had barely gained control of her when the storm broke. Then she was just as eager to be home again. Unfortunately, a lightning strike deepened her enthusiasm to return, and I was promptly unseated. Only a bit of a bruise on my rump to show for it, though.”
Duke liked her voice. She did not fight against the elements by shouting as the groom had done. She spoke clearly and her words carried well enough to those who were right beside her. The worst of her misadventure behind her, she was calming already, her heartbeat slowing.
“Glad to hear it, miss,” said the groom. He hesitated. He looked at Master Reid and the young lady.
Humans were so complicated. They always worried that pairs of them would get up to natural activities if they were left alone. As if that were such a bad thing. Well, they weren’t alone. Duke was there, after all. Besides, it wasn’t as if Master Reid would have his way with the young woman in the storm. Even horses knew better than to risk being struck by lightning for a bit of play.
Meet Elizabeth Donne
Elizabeth Donne’s writing is a natural outpouring of a lifelong love affair with English literature. Although she has spent most of her life in Cape Town, South Africa, she now lives in the American Midwest, where she enthusiastically introduces her visitors to the joys of drinking rooibos tea. With a biscuit, of course.
Elizabeth Donne writes award-winning sweet Regency romance, a natural outpouring of a lifelong love affair with English literature.
