Page 36 of Laird of Steel
And now she’d given Gellir no choice but to chase after her before she got herself killed.
By some miracle, she made it safely to the foot of the hill, where she stopped and waited for him to arrive.
“’Tis heart-poundin’, isn’t it,” she gushed, “ridin’ like the wind?”
Gellir frowned. It was heart-pounding. But not in a good way. “’Tis dangerous.”
“Pah!” she said. “Don’t be so faint o’ heart. What is life without a little danger?”
He bit back a growl. No one called Sir Gellir of Rivenloch faint of heart. But he was no fool. It was one thing to look danger in the face. It was another to invite it into one’s home.
“Come on!” she shouted.
Once again she dug her heels into her horse’s flanks, spurring the animal to an earth-pummeling run across the grass.
“Hold!” he yelled, even as he urged his horse to catch up to her.
He wished he’d taken Urramach. That steed was as fast as lightning. But he’d never imagined his riding companion would be a fool for speed. The old palfrey he’d borrowed from Feiyan was meant to be ridden for pleasure. It was no match for the demon Lady Metylda was astride.
“Wait!” he called out.
She giggled and called back playfully, “Catch me!”
The distance between them was increasing. His horse was already beginning to tire. But what concerned him was the lady didn’t realize was she was headed straight for a bog. Disguised by a lovely green expanse of grass, the ground beneath was perilously soft.
“For the love of God, stop!” he bellowed.
She only laughed.
He urged the poor palfrey to a faster pace until she was wheezing. But still the lady outpaced him. He watched in horror as she flew straight for the marshy ground.
His stern commands did nothing to stop her. Instead, she taunted him by increasing her pace.
His heart collided against his ribs when he saw her horse stagger. And sink. And then he heard her shriek of fear.
“Shite,” he muttered, spurring his already lathered horse forward, despite his better judgment.
“Help!” she cried as the horse sank in mud up to its knees.
Now Gellir had to use caution, lest his own horse meet the same fate.
“Help me!”
“I’m coming,” he told her as he dismounted, several yards from the edge of the bog.
Her horse bucked and bristled. Lady Metylda squealed as the beast sank another foot and the hem of her gown brushed the mud.
He had to work quickly before the horse panicked in earnest. He took a few quick paces toward her before his boots were sucked under. Having no other choice, he fell forward onto his belly to distribute his weight more evenly and began crawling on his elbows toward her.
The horse thrashed again, this time dislodging its rider. Lady Metylda slid from the saddle into the bog with a garbled wail.
“Lie flat’!” Gellir barked. “On your belly. Like me.”
With a sob of dismay and a grimace of disgust, she did as she was told. “My gown!”
Her gown was the least of her worries. If she didn’t follow his commands, she’d slip in over her head. But he didn’t want to frighten her with the truth. “I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised. “Come toward me. Just a few more feet.”
She struggled forward through the ooze until she was within reach.
