Midsummer Magic (Magic Trilogy 1)

There was but one jump on the entire course, a short three-foot fence that marked the end of Desborough property and the beginning of the Bourchiers‘. They’d discussed with John pulling down the fence, but hadn’t gotten to it just yet. Frances enjoyed the jump, and as they neared it, she pressed herself against Tamerlane’s neck.

He soared over the fence and it was in that split second that Frances saw the raw-toothed thresher on the other side, its vicious iron spikes sticking upward. She didn’t think, she reacted, trying desperately to stretch out Tamerlane’s stride to clear the spikes.

He did, almost. Frances heard his agonized scream, felt his body twisting beneath her, and felt herself flying over his head.

She landed hard, and for many moments was insensible. She pulled herself upward and her eyes immediately fastened on the huge gash in Tamerlane’s back left leg. The thoroughbred was standing very still, his chest heaving; she knew he must be in dreadful pain.

She jumped to her feet, tried her best to calm the stallion, then began running back toward the stables. The shortcut she took lessened the distance by some half-mile, but when she burst into the yard, the stitch in her side was so intense that she could scarce breathe.

Hawk saw her first. “Frances! What the devil!”

“Tamerlane ... the jump, somebody placed a thresher up behind it. Hurt, he’s very hurt.”

“You’re all right?” he asked.

“Fine, please, we must hurry!”

She heard Belvis shouting to bring the traveling horse stall as she gathered together ointments, bandages, and painkilling herbs she’d brought with her from Kilbracken.

Hawk took her up in front of him. He said nothing, merely dug his heels into Ebony’s sides to quicken his pace.

Tamerlane was standing where Frances had left him, his proud head lowered. Hawk felt his throat close when he saw the gash.

“We will not put him down!” Frances said firmly. While she soothed the stallion and fed him the opiate, Hawk, along with Belvis, looked at the thresher. Tamerlane’s blood showed like fresh rust on one of the spikes.

“Who would do such a thing?” Belvis said blankly, shaking his head. “Who, for God’s sake?”

“Frances rides this way almost every day,” Hawk said.

They both whirled about at the sound of Tamerlane’s wild snort, but Frances had him in control. She looked filthy, her riding skirt ripped, her hair tangled and snarled, and she was focused entirely on Tamerlane.

She cleaned the gash very gently, applied the ointment, and bandaged the leg. “All right,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “let’s get him into the stall.

“He’ll be all right,” she said over and over again as she and Hawk watched Belvis close the stall door and leap into the driver’s seat.

“Let’s go back now, Frances,” Hawk said.

Suddenly Frances felt the most searing, intense pain she’d ever experienced. Her face went white, and she staggered.

“Frances!”

“My shoulder,” she gasped. “Oh God, Hawk, it hurts!”

He thought quickly, weighing his options, then said, “Let me help you sit down and I’ll take a look.”

He could feel her pain, feel her trying her best not to yell. When she was seated on the ground he said, “Now, let me get the riding jacket off.” It was more easily said than done. The pain was excruciating, and Fra

nces prayed for oblivion.

The jacket finally off, Hawk saw that the blouse was next. “I’ll be as easy as I can,” he said, and began unfastening the long row of satin-covered buttons.

Frances couldn’t help the moan this time. It was deep and agonized and Hawk felt himself growing cold. He ripped the blouse off her to spare her more pain.

He saw the problem quickly enough. She’d dislocated her shoulder. He thought quickly, then said, “Frances, I can fix your shoulder now. It will hurt like the very devil, but then it will be over. Or I can take you back to the house and we can get the doctor to—”

“Do it,” she said between gritted teeth.

Hawk swallowed. He’d done this several times during his army days, but the men were big and strong. She looked fragile, her flesh white and soft. He cursed, placed his hands on the shoulder, and forced the bone back into its socket. She didn’t scream, she didn’t make a sound.