The wind, like a banshee unleashed, howled its fury across the moors.
Percy, its phantom rider, mirrored its rage. He urged his horse onward, a dark blur against the churning sky. Rain lashed down, icy needles stinging his face, but he barely registered it.
His only drive was getting to Huntington Hall as soon as possible. He rode like a man possessed, the urgency in his every breath echoing the tempest around him.
When he finally arrived, he immediately demanded to see Maggie.
"Where is your lady?" He asked Richard, not even bothering to hand the butler his drenched hat and coat before stepping inside the mansion.
"Her Grace is still recuperating in her bed chamber," Richard hurried after Percy. "Your Grace, your hat and coat..."
Percy gave him said items rather impatiently before he climbed the staircase and headed to Maggie's bedroom.
