Oliver and Conomor rode out of the stable yard at breakneck speed. Horse and rider were pleased to see one another again. The black stallion needed no urging after the months of gentle exercise he had received instead of the regular long gallops he was used to from the only man who could truly master him.

Oliver took in none of the familiar sights that he had been so eagerly looking forward to seeing again. He galloped through the manor’s grounds and parklands with his mind only on his homecoming. He had been sure he would find Kerensa waiting at home with their children for his eventual return, but not of how he would be received. During his anxious journey home he had told himself he had no right to expect her to welcome him with open arms. Even if she still loved him, his long silent absence might have stolen some of that love. But Kerensa’s joyful reaction at seeing him suddenly before her had proved she loved him as much as ever. The hopes he had nurtured had been wonderfully fulfilled.

Then had come the mixed feelings at learning he had fathered another child, a child he had known nothing about. He understood why Kerensa had kept it to herself. Because of his harsh treatment of her he had missed Kelynen’s birth, forfeited the joy of seeing one of his children enter the world. He had not been there to share the pain and wonder of the experience with Kerensa. And then, just as he had begun to take pleasure at Kelynen’s presence, horror had been thrust upon him that another of his children had been in an accident, might be badly hurt. Was he to gain a child only to lose another on the same day?

It was not long before he saw riders coming towards him. Slowing down the restless stallion he was soon face to face with Peter Blake and his two sons. Kane’s scalding tears turned to those of shock, then relief, at seeing his father.

‘Oh, Father! It’s all my fault Luke’s hurt. I should never have agreed to race for the pony out of the grounds.’

‘It will be all right, son,’ Oliver said, leaning over to give the distraught boy a quick hug. ‘Don’t you worry about it now, let’s just get your brother home.’

Peter Blake was nervous; even though in an act of charity he was bringing home Sir Oliver Pengarron’s son, he wasn’t sure how the other man would react towards him.

‘I’ll take my son now, Blake,’ Oliver said, looking grimly from Luke’s unconscious twisted body to him.

‘It’s his arm,’ Blake said gravely. ‘It’s twisted right back from the shoulder and he has a serious head injury too.’

Oliver thrust out his arms. ‘Give him to me. I’ll take my son home.’