She could hear more distant shouts and the sound of hoofbeats. Was it rescue? She did not take time to look.
There! A large stone.
Darting to where a white point stuck out of the grass, Delia bent and seized it. It was larger than she’d thought, and heavy. Grunts and curses sounded not far away. Was Giff failing?
She looked up as she managed to lift the stone. The struggle on the ground was violent with protests and groans. Determination and panic drove Delia. Holding her weapon, she hurried towards the group. Her mind concentrated on saving Giff, she vaguely heard the hoofbeats growing louder, but paid scant attention.
Giff was outnumbered. The ruffians would overpower him in seconds.
She quickened her pace. She was within feet of the struggling men. She raised the stone as she reached them and brought it down hard on the nearest back. It made a satisfying crunch.
The man bellowed, arching up. With a soar in her heart, Delia realised she’d got Sam.
But Giff was still beneath him and Barney was pummelling him as he lay, fists protecting his face and head as he kicked out instead and tried to throw off his attackers with his hips.
Delia raised the stone again. At the same instant, a horse thundered into view.
Familiarity kicked in. Tiger!
He reared, whinnying in a fashion as frightening as it was furious. Delia backed off fast as his hooves came down, almost upon the struggling trio. Barney ceased his labours, looking up, face contorted. He gave a strangled cry and rolled away from Giff. Next moment, he was on his feet, belting back towards the ruins.
Sam was frozen, staring up at the great horse. Tiger whinnied again, and pawed the ground, his head coming down almost on a level with the ruffian’s shocked face.
Shouts near at hand sounded. Sam took one look back. Then he was up and running, yelling Barney’s name on a curse. Tiger wheeled, giving chase.
Delia could hear loud voices, but she had no time to spare to find out what was afoot. She ran to fall on her knees beside Giff’s still form. “Giff! Oh, they’ve mauled you badly!”
He opened his eyes and his face contorted as he winced. His handsome features were marred by red weals, one below his right eye, and another at the corner of his mouth where blood oozed from a wound. “I’ve had enough of this,” he grunted. “Damn Piers!”
He was struggling to sit up. Delia put a hand on his chest. “Stay there! You may be more injured than you know.”
“Devil a bit! A few bruises, but I’m not yet dead. Here, give me a hand!”
Without thought, Delia took his hand and helped him into a sitting position. He felt his ribs.
“Ouch! Damn and blast those idiots! They’ve battered me to pieces!”
“They would’ve clubbed you to death if Tiger hadn’t come.”
“Then he’d have trampled them. They’ll be lucky if he doesn’t do it now.”
Delia looked towards the riot going on at the ruin’s edge. Someone was struggling with the smaller of the ruffians. “They’ve got Barney!”
“And the other?”
She lifted a hand to shade her eyes and the scene clarified a little more. “It looks as if he’s escaped. Your horse is quiet. I think your servant has Barney.”
“Sattar? He’s deuced late! What the devil kept him, I’d like to know?”
Delia’s gaze came back to him, eyeing his damaged face. “You’ve every right to be ill-tempered, Giff, but that is for later. What are you going to say? Everyone will want to know why you were set upon.”
He looked struck. “Hell and the devil confound it! You’re right as usual.”
“Well, you’d best think fast.”
She glanced back and saw Lord Tarporley heading in their direction. Hurrying figures caught in the periphery of her vision and she looked towards the corner of the building. Several members of the party, including the readily recognisable form of Miss Watkinson, were clearly coming to discover the cause of the fracas.
“We are undone, Giff! If Barney talks…”