He’d accepted that.

His bravery stunned her, rendered her silent as, reaching the rocks, they pulled up, milling as MacFarlane snapped out orders.

Then he reached over, grabbed her bridle, and drew her on down the road.

“Here.” Drawing a folded parchment packet from inside his coat, he thrust it into her hand. “Take this-get it to Colonel Derek Delborough. He’s at the fort in Bombay.” Blue eyes met hers. “It’s vital you place that in his hands-his and no others. Do you understand?”

Numb, she nodded. “Colonel Delborough, at the fort.”

“Right. Now ride!” He slapped her mare’s rump.

The horse leapt forward. Emily shoved the packet into the front of her riding jacket and tightened her grip on the reins. Behind her, the troop came pounding up, forming around her as they again fled on.

She glanced back as they rounded the next curve. Two of the troop were taking up positions on either side of the rocks. MacFarlane was freeing their horses, shooing them on.

Then they swept around the curve and he was lost to her sight.

She had to ride on. He’d given her no choice. If she didn’t reach Bombay and deliver his packet, his death-his sacrifice-would be for naught.

That couldn’t be. She couldn’t let that happen.

But he’d been so young.

Tears stung her eyes. Viciously she blinked them back.

She had to concentrate on the godforsaken road and ride.

Later that day

East India Company Fort, Bombay

Emily fixed the sepoy guarding the fort gates with a steady direct gaze. “Captain MacFarlane?”

As the niece of the Governor of Bombay, visiting her uncle for the last six months, she could ask and expect to be answered.

The sepoy blanched, olive skin and all. The glance he bent on her was sorrowful and compassionate. “I am very sorry, miss, but the captain is dead.”