Wild legacy by Copyright Paperback Collection (Library of Congress) DLC, Phoebe Conn

Belle rose shakily and stretched her arms above her head, but she still felt sore and began to massage her neck. "Nothing. We were going to build a fire, bathe, and eat a cold supper, but we fell asleep where we first lay down to rest."
    "I've got to take a bath," Dominique complained. "I can't ride another mile as sticky as this."
    Belle didn't want to take the time, but when Dominique stumbled off toward the stream, she followed. As predicted, their mares were grazing no more than fifteen feet away. Belle swerved to run her hand over Ladybug's rump, then hurried on to catch up with Dominique.
    "Hunter will be relentless," she worried aloud. She kicked off her shoes and sat down to remove her stockings. "His stallion is stronger than our mares, and he'll probably not carry anything heavier than a knife. That means the distance between us will shrink with every passing hour. He's got to know where we're going, but he can't know the route. If we make it erratic, it may compound his problems enough for us to retain the advantage."
    Dominique shucked off her gown, petticoats, and lingerie with great haste, then waded out into the stream. The water was icy cold, and the rocky stream-bed slippery, but she was too desperate to wash herself clean to be bothered by such slight discomforts. "I forgot to bring the soap and towels," she exclaimed. "Will you please run back and get them?"
    Belle weaved slightly as she rose, but wanting soap and a towel for herself, did her sister's bidding without complaint. "How very spoiled we are," she remarked as she

    returned to the water's edge. We don't even heat the water for our baths. We just step in when they're ready."
    Dominique leaned over to take the bar of soap from Belle's hand. "That was precisely my complaint yesterday. All that's been expected of us is that we sit and look pretty. We're encouraged to read widely, but never voice an original thought in front of anyone but the family." She began to scrub herself off with a vigorous rhythm. "When we're so pampered and weak, how are we ever to survive the ordeal of childbirth?"
    Belle dropped the last of her petticoats on the grass. She unlaced her corset, yanked off her chemise, and stepped out of her drawers. She stuck a toe in the stream and shivered. "Our Aunt Melissa didn't," she reminded her.
    That was such a sobering thought, Dominique could not let it pass. "Do you think of her often?" she asked. "After all, she paid a terrible price for loving Hunter."
    The water was so cold that Belle's teeth began to chatter as soon as she had stepped in, but she had a ready reply. "I like to think she was punished for not loving him, but no, I seldom think of her." She shared Dominique's soap and washed with a frantic thoroughness before stepping out on the grass. The sisters had bathed together since childhood and although Belle was slightly taller, they had figures so similar they could wear each other's clothes. Neither felt the slightest twinge of embarrassment as they dried off.
    It was Dominique who went to fetch their clean linen drawers, but both sisters dressed with a haste that would have shocked and amazed their mother. They ate ham, cheese, and bread while repacking their gear, and were in the saddle within half an hour of waking. They were not nearly as energetic as they had been the previous morning, but surviving the first night on their own, even if they had done it poorly, had given them the courage to go on.
    * * *

    Byron felt sick clear through. As a young man he had fought the French, and not been this frightened. Hunter's expression was serene, as though he were setting out to track a stag rather than two beautiful and defenseless young women. They had arrived at the ferry before the owner that morning and had to wait for the first crossing, but the moment the man appeared, Byron offered to reward him if his memory were good.
    "My daughters are blond, and riding a pair of matched bays. I think they may have come this way.