Hamish frowned. “These ranges are a maze for anyone who doesnae ken them. She could fall off a cliff and we wouldnae find her before next summer.”
The horrifying possibility of Verity tumbling to a lonely death had haunted Kylemore’s thoughts since he’d discovered her gone. “I can ride up onto the ridge if I continue another mile. You go through the woods again.”
Hamish nodded. “Aye. Be careful up there, laddie. It’s treacherous gaeing. I dinna want tae be out looking for ye as weel.” He wheeled his horse around and rode away.
Gasping for breath, Verity heaved herself over the ledge and collapsed facedown. For a long moment, she lay on the ground, panting. Cold rain drizzled upon her, but she didn’t have the breath to get up.
The ascent had taken hours. Her hands were scraped and dirty. But thank God, she’d reached the top. She’d lost her footing twice and slithered to the bottom, and once, the rocks themselves had disintegrated beneath her. For one sickening moment before she’d landed hard on a ledge, she’d thought her luck—and her life—had ended. But while she might be alive now, she was bruised and shaken, and she’d lost her provisions.
The rain had started by then, and her ascent had turned into slippery misery. Only the memory of how her heart had leaped at the sight of Kylemore kept her going. If she returned to him, he’d destroy her more thoroughly than mere inhospitable crags could.
He’d destroy her, then walk away without a word.
Stiffly, painfully, she lifted herself to her knees. Her shredded palms were stinging, and every muscle ached. Still, she’d done it. At last freedom beckoned.
She lifted her head, hoping she’d reached the coast.
But there were only more mountains. Lines and lines of them as far as she could see.
With a groan, she slumped back, ignoring the rain. She could be lost in this wilderness forever. It was worse than the desolate track she’d followed into the valley. She had no food, no map and no clothes, apart from what she wore.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered. “Oh, God, help me.”
For a long while, she lay unmoving while weak, defeated tears trickled down her dirty face and mingled with the raindrops. Behind her, the duke waited to ensnare her with his tortured soul and sensual magic. Ahead lay an unforgiving wilderness where she could perish without trace.
But eventually, she struggled to her feet. She couldn’t stay on this open ridge until winter froze her into an ice statue. There must be a way through the mountains. After she found it, she’d have everything she wanted. An independent life. A future for Ben and Maria. Hope. Purpose. Liberty.
She ripped a strip off her petticoat, sobbing softly at the pain, and bound her torn and bloody hands. If she needed to climb on hands and knees again, she’d be in trouble. The wind had sharpened and she shivered, clutching her coarse coat more tightly about her. It was summer still, but in this cruel and terrible place, that word had no power.
Had she made a dreadful mistake by running away? Both the duke and Hamish had warned her that people died in these ranges. Only now, when it was too late, did she believe them.
With a shaking hand, she wiped the moisture from her face. She had to remember what rewards awaited her. She had to remember that the man she’d abandoned promised her nothing but humiliation and degradation.
Summoning what little courage she retained, she took a deep breath. She couldn’t go back, and this open hillside offered no shelter. So she must go forward and pray she found some path out of this desolation. She put her head down and trudged through the thickening rain.
Hamish rode up at sunset. Kylemore immediately noticed the filthy bundle tied to the Highlander’s saddle.
“What’s that?” He failed to keep the dull hopelessness from his voice. All day, they’d searched without finding any trace of Verity. The image of her sliding helplessly into the loch had become more vivid with every weary mile he’d traveled.
Hamish passed the bundle across to Kylemore. “I think the lassie dropped it as she climbed up the hillside.”
This was the first genuine indication Verity was alive. Kylemore bent his head and tore at the bundle, but the humble contents told him nothing except that she’d now lost what few provisions she’d carried.
Hamish was still speaking. “She must have had a difficult time of it. There were fresh rockfalls at the base. I’d no have thought a female could do it—it’s a climb most men would baulk at.”
“Oh, I’ve never doubted her nerve,” Kylemore said on a surge of hope.
She was brave, clever and determined. Perhaps she’d survive this unforgiving landscape until he found her.
Hamish studied him. “She must be gey eager tae get away from ye, laddie.” The steady blue eyes sharpened on the duke’s face. “What in God’s name did ye do tae her?”
Unseeingly, Kylemore gazed ahead, knowing he deserved every ounce of his companion’s condemnation. “I tried to break her,” he said grimly.
Only now did he acknowledge he’d failed. As he’d deserved to fail. He shook himself out of his abstraction. Self-pity was an indulgence he couldn’t afford. With desperate eyes, he surveyed the rain-swept landscape. He’d get her back. Then he’d worry about the amends he needed to make. The amends he was capable of making.
Hamish reached out to touch his arm. It was an act of terrible presumption that offered a brief reassurance which, in his distress, the duke noticed and appreciated.
“Dinna fash yourself, laddie. We’ll find her.” He looked around. “But not tonight.”