Chapter Twenty-Five
THE WIND WAS HOWLING through the castle ruins, blowing so hard that moonlight appeared occasionally, but the rain was still so heavy Brooke could barely make out in the eerie light the lone tree, bent by the wind. Lightning was in the distance, but the thunder was loud enough to seem much closer.
Brooke might have considered this something of an adventure if she weren’t so cold, hungry, and uncomfortable in her soaked clothes as she sat huddled in a closet with just three stone walls still standing around her. Did castles even have closets? she wondered.
Whatever the space had been used for centuries ago, it was about three feet wide and only about five feet long, but at least it had a stone ceiling that hadn’t crumbled yet and a stone floor that was dry. There might once have been a door, but that had long since rotted away.
She’d been sitting there for what felt like hours, and time was moving excruciatingly slowly.
She’d never find her way back to Rothdale in the darkness and the heavy rain.
She’d have to wait here until the morning unless someone rescued her, but how likely was that?
Alfreda would be worried. Dominic probably wouldn’t know or care that she’d been gone so long.
Earlier, as she’d watched a thick sheet of rain bearing down on her, she’d felt daunted yet excited. She’d never seen anything like it. She’d tried to outrun it, but nature was too quick.
She’d stopped as the rain poured down on her and Rebel, not knowing what to do when she couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her in any direction.
She’d wondered if Rebel would be able to find her way back to Rothdale if she gave her free rein or just get them hopelessly lost. Then she’d heard the big dog’s howling.
At least, she’d hoped it was the dog and not something else.
It was those darned rumors about Dominic.
And his pet that was big enough to be part wolf.
The dog she’d run into today was even bigger, but it hadn’t threatened her.
Both dogs must simply be a breed peculiar to this area that she’d never seen in Leicestershire.
But obviously someone was breeding them this big up here in the north, and Dominic could have mentioned that instead of letting her think that a few packs of wolves had survived the extinction.
She turned about and headed back to find the dog.
In a fanciful moment, she wondered if the animal was calling to her.
It might be trying to lead her to its home, people, a warm fire.
She’d settle for anything that got her out of the rain.
But she certainly hadn’t counted on an animal den.
The big mound the dog had been sitting next to had a hole on the other side of it, and Brooke saw the animal disappear inside it when she got there.
She dismounted and tried to peer into the hole, but it was too dark inside for her to see anything.
There was no way she was going into the den, even if it might be dry in there.
She looked north instead, where she’d seen the castle ruins.
She might find shelter there. With the rain so heavy and clouds so low, she couldn’t see it now, but if she rode due north, she might find it.
Or the dog might lead her there if she explained . . .
That was a silly notion, but she still spoke into the den. “No thank you, friend, I’d prefer to try the ruins. Would you like to come along?”
She remounted. The dog stuck its head out of the hole and watched her ride away. She glanced back to see if it would follow her, but already she couldn’t clearly see much of anything behind her.
She was disappointed when she located the ruins.
Little of the castle was still standing.
The area was littered with broken stone blocks from walls that had fallen.
A fairly large tree stood in what had once been the courtyard or perhaps the remains of a great hall.
She hobbled Rebel under the tree where the mare would have a little cover from the rain and carefully started picking her way through the slippery moss-covered stones, looking for shelter.
A partial stone stairway must have led to a higher floor, but nothing was up there now except for wind and rain.
She hoped to find stairs that led down to a cellar, but the rain was still coming down in torrents, which limited visibility.
She saw a flash of white though when the dog suddenly ran past her.
She hurried up and followed it a little way beyond the broken stairway, where it sat down and waited for her.
That was when she found her cubbyhole at the side of the stairway.
She stepped inside the small enclosure and invited the dog to join her, but it had already run away.
Had it intentionally led her to that room, or had it only sat down to see what she was going to do next?
Either way, she called out, “Thank you!” Then she moved as far back in the narrow room as she could go.
Leaning against the back wall even though it was covered with moss, she closed her eyes, feeling thankful to be off her horse and sitting someplace dry.
She heard the sound of a horse approaching before she saw the dim light.
It was still teeming rain. She stood up quickly and moved to the doorway of her cubbyhole and saw the huge hooded figure holding a lantern and leading his horse to the tree where poor Rebel was hobbled.
Rescue! She was so relieved, even if it might only be someone out looking for his dog.
“Hello!” she yelled.
“I had a feeling . . .”
The wolf. She’d recognize his voice anywhere. The one person she did not want to be rescued by. And what the devil was he doing out of bed?