Rose drew back the curtains and, as she had every morning that Carina could remember, gave a succinct account of the weather.
‘It will be fine today, ma’am, but sharp, mind you.’
It couldn’t be seven o’clock already! Carina had drunk too much wine and her head ached, but it was too late to change her mind. She downed two cups of strong coffee before Rose helped her into Bianca’s riding habit.
The jacket was on the small side and she held onto the bedpost as Rose tugged the lacing of her corset until it was tight enough to fasten. The skirt was a little short, but the hat was pretty, with a veil and streamers, and the boots a perfect fit. Carina’s footsteps resounded on the marble as she went down to the hall where Prince Scalia was waiting.
His gaze travelled from her neck down to the tip of her black boots and then returned to her face.
‘My wife’s habit fits you like a glove, my dear. The outfit is most becoming.’
What he meant was that it was rather too tight, Carina thought irritably. Her mood improved when the horses were led up to the front door. Bianca’s mare, Pabla, was pure Arab and pranced delightfully. It took two grooms to hold her head as Carina mounted. She arranged her skirt over the saddle horn and Prince Scalia offered her a riding crop, with a vicious-thong attached to the end.
‘I don’t need a whip. The mare is raring to go.’
‘Take it, all the same.’
Prince Scalia thrust the crop into her hand and they set off, trotting down the drive and out through the gates. Pabla’s narrow neck arched as she danced sideways and when they had turned off the road, Scalia called to her,
‘Give her head! I’ll catch you up …’
She loosened the reins and the mare leapt forward, flattening her neck to reach full stride. Carina experienced a thrill of exhilaration. This was what she had missed, the wind in her face and the fluid movement of a horse beneath her. The Arab’s speed was breath-taking and she did not slow down until Pabla began to blow. They drew up near a ravine, where wild flowers peeped between rocks. Prince Scalia was a long way behind, keeping the bay at a steady canter. She might have lost him altogether, Carina thought, but the gallop had dispelled the stagnation of drawing rooms and her mind was clear.
She was aware her cheeks were flushed as Prince Scalia drew level. ‘Did Pabla bolt with you?’
‘I wanted to try her paces and she responded magnificently.’
‘And you were in control all the time? I’m impressed by your horsemanship.’ The prince nudged his horse closer and leant over to brush a straggling hair off her face. ‘You’re an unconventional young woman, Miss Temple. Do you approach everything in life with such abandon?’
‘It depends on what I want to achieve.’
‘Were you trying to get away from me?’
‘No, of course I wasn’t … I knew you would catch up. Your horse has more staying power.’
‘A quality I greatly admire.’
His knuckle was hard beneath his glove and there was hot, keen look in his eyes. This was her chance. The question was on the tip of her tongue, pressing against her lips, when a burst of gunfire exploded above their heads. Pabla shied so violently Carina was almost thrown off and Prince Scalia dug his spurs into the bay’s flanks.
‘Some fool’s shooting rabbits! Follow me!’
Carina followed close behind as they climbed a steep bank. The ground was littered with stones so the horses stumbled and slipped until they came out of the gully on to a high plateau. Thorns stuck out their spiky heads between scattered boulders and she saw a circle of army tents positioned on a slope to the left. The sun was in her eyes and when she looked more closely, Carina realised what she had taken for rocks were prisoners in chains. There were hundreds of them, sprawled over the wasteland like an army in disarray. A chill ran through her but she was determined not to show Scalia that she was shocked.
‘Quite a catch, don’t you think?’ The prince touched his thumb to his nose.
‘I offer you my commiserations. There can’t be many loyal Sicilians left at liberty.’
‘Come now, Miss Temple.’ Scalia gave her a stern look. ‘This is not the time nor place to propagate your liberal opinions.’
‘You misjudge me, Your Excellency. I’m merely commenting on statistics. How can you suspect so many men are a threat to the state?’
‘Because every Sicilian peasant is born with treachery in his soul. Discipline is the only way they learn it’s not worth their lives to support the rebels.’
Scalia meant to reprimand her, and Carina did not answer. Her gaze passed over those prisoners close to the roadside. They were a pitiful lot, with manacles on their wrists and ankles, and she felt sorry for them. Watching her face, Scalia’s mouth twisted in a distorted smile.
‘I must speak to the commandant. If our methods of law enforcement offend your sensibilities, you had better wait here.’
The words were thrown over his shoulder as he touched his whip to the bay’s neck and Carina watched him go with simmering resentment. There was a guard post along the road and a soldier stepped forward to challenge him. Prince Scalia leant down. She hoped he was giving instructions for her safety, but the soldier returned to his companions without so much as a glance in her direction.
The guards were a damned sight too complacent, Carina thought. She could easily ride away, but Scalia would take any form of retreat as weakness. So she stayed where she was, speaking softly to the mare to calm her. Wild fowl hooted in the distance and she could hear a low murmur of voices behind her. The prisoners seemed to be closer than before and sensing the stealthy approach to her rear, Pabla struck the ground with her front hooves. Now, Carina clearly made out the clanking of leg-irons and shuffling footsteps on the track. Her hand tightened around the riding crop and when a stone was kicked carelessly, rolling along the ground under the horse’s hooves, she could bear the suspense no longer.
‘If you come any closer, I’ll set the guards on you!’
‘We only want to pay our respects, lady.’
The answer came in a guttural voice, and was followed at once by another. ‘So you’re Scalia’s new favourite – and not ashamed to be seen out riding with him.’
Carina wouldn’t be intimidated. If she ignored them, they would tire of their jibes and leave her alone. Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw one of the prisoners step forward. She had the impression he was taller than the others and, despite his chains, moved with agility.
‘Why don’t you get off your horse, Miss Temple?’
She heard the words before she saw him, but Carina would have recognised the voice anywhere. It was the same drawl that had mocked her before and her breath caught in her throat as Ben Mavrone moved to Pabla’s head. With a quick movement he took hold of the bridle.
‘We have met, or don’t you remember?’
A thick layer of dust covered his face and there was blood on his wrists. Mavrone was as filthy as his companions, his appearance so far removed from the picture in her mind, Carina wouldn’t have known him apart from his voice and the colour of his eyes. His regard passed over her as if he could see through her riding habit and her heart jerked unsteadily.
‘Yes, I remember,’ she said, finally finding her voice. ‘I don’t know why you’re here – but I’d be grateful if you would let go of my horse.’
‘I’m sure you understand the circumstances under which I’m detained.’ Mavrone did not release Pabla’s bridle. His hand slid along the rein close to her own. ‘It’s a pity I wasn’t aware you were an intimate of Prince Scalia when we last met.’
‘I’m not …’
Carina faltered. Mavrone’s eyes were like the sea on a bright day, only colder, and the contempt in them undisguised. He thought she had betrayed their conspiracy and seeing her with Scalia confirmed his suspicions. He would never accept she was innocent and a combination of shock and nerves kept her silent.
‘You find us in desperate circumstances. I hoped you might offer us some assistance.’
Refusing to answer, Carina fixed her gaze on a point between Pabla’s ears.
‘What’s the delay, Capitano?’
One of the men came to stand beside Mavrone and Carina remembered the others. Three of them had formed a semicircle in front of Pabla. She saw the way they watched Mavrone, waiting for his command. The captain had instigated the manoeuvre. Did he plan to steal the horse and make his escape? Surely, he couldn’t ride in shackles? No one could – yet he would manage somehow, she thought. He would haul himself over the mare’s back and gallop off, leaving her to the mercy of his companions.
Carina let her gaze roam over the men. They were close enough for her to smell the stench of stale sweat and she wrinkled her nose.
‘Miss Temple doesn’t like the scent of patriots, Ruffo.’
‘Get your men out of my way or I’ll use the whip on you,’ she commanded in a low voice.
‘Will you indeed? Has Prince Scalia initiated you already?’
Carina ignored the question. With a flick of her wrist, she uncoiled the leather thong to its full length. Her heart was tight in her chest as she waited for Mavrone to step out of the way, but he did not move.
‘I order you to release my horse!’
‘I don’t take orders from Prince Scalia’s—’
What happened next was like a nightmare. As she lifted the leather thong above her head, Mavrone forced Pabla’s head round towards him. He grabbed the heel of her boot and wrenched her foot out of the stirrup. In a panic of terror, Carina lashed out. The whip caught Mavrone across the face. She saw blood on his forehead, but still he hung on. Then someone yanked the whip from her hand in a grasp that almost broke her wrist and Mavrone’s arm went around her waist. He was dragging her from the saddle and, knowing she was about to fall, Carina screamed.
Terrified by the commotion, Pabla reared up on her hind legs. Then her hooves touched the earth and she jumped forward, whinnying with fright as she bolted. The reins snapped, flapping uselessly, and Carina clung on to the mane as they careered along the track. There was a crack of rifle fire and she bent down, her arms around the horse’s neck. Bullets whistled overhead and the saddle horn pressed painfully into her stomach but she hung on until Pabla lost her footing. The horse’s head went down and Carina was thrown from the saddle.
She landed so hard the air was knocked out of her body. Carina lay still, gasping for air until the feeling of suffocation lessened, then checked the movement of her arms and legs. Nothing was broken and she opened her eyes to find Pabla standing over her. They had reached the army encampment and she staggered to her feet. She leant against the horse as a soldier marched towards her. He demanded identification. Carina shook her head and he turned on his heel and began shouting orders. Suddenly there were soldiers running in all directions. The flap of the nearest tent lifted and Prince Scalia emerged. He stood for a moment, and then strode to her side.
‘Did the mare run away with you? Are you hurt?’
‘You’re guilty of gross negligence, sir!’
‘But the guards?’
‘Your guards are blind and incompetent! They were shooting at me, for heaven’s sake!’
‘My dear girl, you’re concussed. Come and lie down until you are recovered.’
‘Don’t be a fool! I’ve fallen off a horse before,’ she replied in a harsh whisper. ‘What was your purpose, sir? Did you mean to punish me for my political views?’
Prince Scalia’s face went taut until every feature was rigid and Carina turned her back on him.
‘Miss Temple believes her accident was due to the actions of your guards, Falcone.’ He spoke loudly so that she would hear. ‘If she can identify the culprits, you will ensure they’re severely punished.’
The broken rein lay across her palm and Carina turned round slowly.
‘I wish to return to the villa at once. I take it those responsible will be reprimanded?’
‘Certainly, ma’am. My officers are down there already.’
‘There’s only one way to deal with them, Falcone. Single out the ruffians and send them ahead to Palermo. Count Maniscalco will deal with them personally. You know the procedure.’
Was he talking about the prisoners or guards? Carina did not know. The prince’s face was hard and his tone chilling. ‘And get me a fresh mount. Miss Temple will ride my horse. I’ll send a groom to collect the mare this afternoon.’
Prince Scalia took hold of her arm as if he expected her to resist, but Carina was too shaken to respond. She waited while the side saddle was put on the bay and the prince gave her a leg up. As they left the camp she was beyond feeling anything except fiery hatred for both men. Scalia was a sadistic monster and Ben Mavrone a rough and abusive criminal. The image that possessed her had been an illusion and she should have known better. The cold wind went through her and Carina shivered. She hadn’t given them away, but the guards would blame the prisoners and it wouldn’t take them long to identify Mavrone. Once Scalia discovered he was among the captives, his fate would be sealed. She would never see him again.