Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WesternWind 01 - Wynd River by Sinner (Ellora's Cave)
Authors: Sinner (Ellora's Cave)
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ankle.
“Brownie,” Aingeal said. She kissed the little mare’s nose.
Cynyr snorted. “What a unique name,” he drawled. “Here. Let’s get this on you.” He took a poncho
that was hanging over the mare’s saddle and draped it over Aingeal’s head, settling it into place around
her shoulders.
“Sure is mighty bad weather out there, mo tiarna ,” the liveryman said. “My aunt would be happy to put
you up until it clears.”
“We appreciate the offer, Danny, but I’ve got business in the Exasla Territory.”
Aingeal saw the liveryman shudder, for everyone knew what kind of business a Reaper was about. She
saw Danny O’Hare’s gaze flick down to the handle of the laser whip before snapping away again.
“Do you need help mounting, wench?” Cynyr asked.
“I think I can manage,” she replied. She lifted her foot, placed it in the stirrup and climbed easily into the
saddle. She took the reins from Cynyr and smiled smugly at him.
The Reaper was power in motion as he swung up on Storm’s back. The black leather duster settled
over the horse’s rump with a flourish then he tugged his hat more snugly on his head, checked to make
sure Aingeal was covered properly and led her out of the livery.
The rain slashed against her as they exited the stables and Aingeal bit her lip. It was going to be a
miserable ride. The wind had turned chill and it was blowing the rain into her face.
“You sure you’re up to this?” Cynyr asked.
“I would rather be with you and be a drowned rat than wait here for Otaktay to find me and slit my
throat,” she said.
The Reaper’s golden eyes flowed scarlet red for a moment as a stitch of lightning lit the sky overhead
but he made no reply to her remark. Instead, he kicked his mount lightly and took off at a trot, expecting
Aingeal to follow.
Most of the buildings were aglow with candlelight as the duo left Briscoe. Aingeal caught a glimpse of
shifting curtains falling to as they passed and knew the inhabitants of the town would breathe easier with
the Reaper gone. News of his presence there would have spread like wildfire despite the foul weather.
Chapter Four
For over three hours the two lovers rode in beating rain and bone-chilling wind. The Exasla Territory
was still a day away, and with the ground as sodden as it was, finding a dry place to camp for the night
would be impossible. By noontime, Cynyr had decided to find a hotel room for them. Despite her
poncho, Aingeal was wet and shivering, and although she made no complaint, he knew she was very
uncomfortable.
“We’ll stop in Haines City for the night,” he shouted to her over the din of the storm.
“Okay,” she agreed, striving to keep her lips from trembling. She couldn’t hide the look of relief that
passed over her tired features. “If that’s what you want.”
The Reaper wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and hold her. He didn’t tell her that had
he been alone, he’d have ridden straight through to the Exasla Territory border.
As they rode, the sky to the south of them grew darker and darker until there was hardly any light left.
Waves of rain slammed against them so brutally, Cynyr led his lady beneath a low, sheltering tree to wait
out the punishing downpour. In the distance, they heard what sounded like a train.
“Are there tracks near here?” she asked, worry furrowing her brow.
“That’s a tornado, wench” Cynyr replied. “Sounds like it’s headed this way.”
Before he finished speaking, hail rained down from the sky, skittering through the overhead branches. A
few smaller shards of ice fell through the lacy canopy and struck the riders. Thankfully, the tree shielded
them from the larger hailstones.
Off in the distance a darker wedge appeared from the heavens and seemed to be moving at a slow
pace.
“I’ve never seen a tornado,” Aingeal said, staring at the phenomena in awe.
“It’s a damned destructive force of nature,” he told
“Brownie,” Aingeal said. She kissed the little mare’s nose.
Cynyr snorted. “What a unique name,” he drawled. “Here. Let’s get this on you.” He took a poncho
that was hanging over the mare’s saddle and draped it over Aingeal’s head, settling it into place around
her shoulders.
“Sure is mighty bad weather out there, mo tiarna ,” the liveryman said. “My aunt would be happy to put
you up until it clears.”
“We appreciate the offer, Danny, but I’ve got business in the Exasla Territory.”
Aingeal saw the liveryman shudder, for everyone knew what kind of business a Reaper was about. She
saw Danny O’Hare’s gaze flick down to the handle of the laser whip before snapping away again.
“Do you need help mounting, wench?” Cynyr asked.
“I think I can manage,” she replied. She lifted her foot, placed it in the stirrup and climbed easily into the
saddle. She took the reins from Cynyr and smiled smugly at him.
The Reaper was power in motion as he swung up on Storm’s back. The black leather duster settled
over the horse’s rump with a flourish then he tugged his hat more snugly on his head, checked to make
sure Aingeal was covered properly and led her out of the livery.
The rain slashed against her as they exited the stables and Aingeal bit her lip. It was going to be a
miserable ride. The wind had turned chill and it was blowing the rain into her face.
“You sure you’re up to this?” Cynyr asked.
“I would rather be with you and be a drowned rat than wait here for Otaktay to find me and slit my
throat,” she said.
The Reaper’s golden eyes flowed scarlet red for a moment as a stitch of lightning lit the sky overhead
but he made no reply to her remark. Instead, he kicked his mount lightly and took off at a trot, expecting
Aingeal to follow.
Most of the buildings were aglow with candlelight as the duo left Briscoe. Aingeal caught a glimpse of
shifting curtains falling to as they passed and knew the inhabitants of the town would breathe easier with
the Reaper gone. News of his presence there would have spread like wildfire despite the foul weather.
Chapter Four
For over three hours the two lovers rode in beating rain and bone-chilling wind. The Exasla Territory
was still a day away, and with the ground as sodden as it was, finding a dry place to camp for the night
would be impossible. By noontime, Cynyr had decided to find a hotel room for them. Despite her
poncho, Aingeal was wet and shivering, and although she made no complaint, he knew she was very
uncomfortable.
“We’ll stop in Haines City for the night,” he shouted to her over the din of the storm.
“Okay,” she agreed, striving to keep her lips from trembling. She couldn’t hide the look of relief that
passed over her tired features. “If that’s what you want.”
The Reaper wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and hold her. He didn’t tell her that had
he been alone, he’d have ridden straight through to the Exasla Territory border.
As they rode, the sky to the south of them grew darker and darker until there was hardly any light left.
Waves of rain slammed against them so brutally, Cynyr led his lady beneath a low, sheltering tree to wait
out the punishing downpour. In the distance, they heard what sounded like a train.
“Are there tracks near here?” she asked, worry furrowing her brow.
“That’s a tornado, wench” Cynyr replied. “Sounds like it’s headed this way.”
Before he finished speaking, hail rained down from the sky, skittering through the overhead branches. A
few smaller shards of ice fell through the lacy canopy and struck the riders. Thankfully, the tree shielded
them from the larger hailstones.
Off in the distance a darker wedge appeared from the heavens and seemed to be moving at a slow
pace.
“I’ve never seen a tornado,” Aingeal said, staring at the phenomena in awe.
“It’s a damned destructive force of nature,” he told
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