Richard wasn't afraid of the hoard. He was afraid of the men watching him run toward it.
Felicity felt the shift before she saw anything, that particular drop in the air that happened when her husbands were holding something back, something that had claws and wanted out, and she moved through them the way she always did, not because she had to, but because she knew that right now her presence was the only thing standing between Richard and a very short walk off a very long cliff.
She found Lucan first. He had his jaw locked and his shoulders up around his ears, and every line of him was vibrating with the effort of staying still, and she didn't say anything clever; she just rose onto her toes and looped her arms around his neck and held on and felt the exact moment something in his chest gave way. He dropped his face into her hair and breathed her in like a man who had been holding his breath for hours and had finally, reluctantly, decided to survive.
