Looking abashed, Sir John cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course. Wasn’t thinking. Nothing that can’t wait. Appreciate your cooperation, my lord.”
The Penrhyn men emerged from the mine, holding an unmoving, black-coated body. Gideon saw at a glance there was no hope for Felix. He met Charis’s gaze across the clearing and shook his head. She nodded but remained dry-eyed. Hubert’s painful, choked sobs intensified
as the villagers carried Felix’s limp form past him.
With each moment, Gideon became easier in his skin. He moved among the local men, thanking them. Nobody needed to tell him they’d braved the storm to find him. Hard to believe it had taken him twenty-five years to recognize the unbreakable bonds that tied him to this land and its people.
Tulliver came up, leading Khan. One mount for two riders, the sly dog. With a word of thanks, Gideon took the reins and rubbed the horse’s nose in greeting. He’d missed the spirited thoroughbred over the last weeks.
With his usual impassivity, Tulliver handed over the coat he carried under his arm. “Here you are, guvnor. Thought you might need some extra covering”
Gratefully, Gideon pulled the garment over his ragged shirt. He must look a ruffian. He badly needed a bath and a change of clothes. He needed a shave and a hot meal. More than anything, he needed time alone with his wife. With relief, he watched Charis move away from Hubert and approach Sir John.
He turned his attention to Tulliver. Akash wasn’t the only one who deserved his undying gratitude. “I appreciate it. Just as I appreciate your rushing to my rescue today.”
“I’m honored to serve you, sir.” Tulliver’s eyes held a hint of uncharacteristic softness. “Always have been. And I reckon gratitude goes both ways. You won’t recall, but I was one of the soldiers who pulled you out of that pit in Rangapindhi, more dead than alive.”
Astonishment gripped Gideon at this revelation. “By God, I never knew.”
“My last assignment for the Company. Those heathens we locked up after the invasion talked like you was a god. They’d never seen such grit. Nothing they done could break you.” Tulliver’s voice deepened with feeling. “You kept your mouth shut and saved me and my chums from a bloodbath. When I heard you sailed home on the same packet as me, I set myself to enter your service.”
Gideon tried to remember the exact moment he’d offered Tulliver a place. The details were hazy. When he’d been delirious with fever on the ship, Tulliver had turned up to help, and he’d been around ever since. Capable, resourceful, taciturn. In fact, that was the longest speech Gideon had ever heard the man make.
“I haven’t been an easy master,” he said with difficulty.
“Maybe not always, lad, but I knew you’d come right, given time and incentive. Gold always rings true.”
Gideon swallowed a lump of emotion. He owed this man more than he could ever repay. “You know you’ve always got a home at Penrhyn.” Shabby return for the selfless devotion.
Tulliver’s wry smile appeared. “Aye, guvnor. I’d counted on that and all. A nice quiet life by the seaside in my old age suits me down to the ground. Although it’s not exactly been quiet so far.”
Gideon laughed with a lightheartedness he couldn’t remember feeling for years and clapped Tulliver on the back. Another natural gesture unthinkable yesterday.
His pulse racing with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, Gideon led Khan up to Charis. He felt like a nervous schoolboy. Absurd after all he’d been through with her. But recent events had created a new map between them, and he wasn’t yet sure how to navigate it.
“I should get you back to Penrhyn.” Before she could object, he caught her by the supple waist and tossed her up onto Khan’s back.
She laughed breathlessly and found her balance with the confidence of a natural horsewoman. “Apparently I have no say in the matter.”
“None at all.” He ignored her startled eyes and turned to shake Sir John’s hand again. “Come by the house tomorrow, and we’ll sort everything out.”
“I wish you good day, Sir Gideon, Lady Charis.” The man’s eyes held a spark of amusement. Obviously, he hadn’t forgotten what it was to be young and newly married.
Gideon shoved one booted foot in the stirrup and flung his other leg across the saddle. The high-strung horse danced under the double weight, but Gideon quickly brought him under control.
Charis sat across the front of the saddle, her back against Gideon’s arm, her skirts cascading down Khan’s side. He relished her sweet warmth. She wasn’t wearing a hat, and strands of soft bronze hair tickled his chin.
Raising a hand to Akash, who watched them with a faint smile, Gideon urged Khan to a canter along the path to Penrhyn.
“That was high-handed,” Charis said in a neutral voice once they were away from the crowd. Gideon noted she made no great effort to wriggle away. No effort at all, really.
He laughed and tightened his hold on her. “Black Jack lives in my veins, remember?”
He slowed Khan to a walk. The need to get back to the house and confirm she was his in the most basic way was a fever in his blood. But he wasn’t a barbarian, much as he felt like one right now. They had to talk before he tumbled her into his bed.
She turned her face toward his. Her expression was unexpectedly grave. “Does all this mean you no longer want to send me away?”
Uncomfortable heat crawled up the back of his neck. “I never wanted to send you away.”