Ben felt his temper boil at the audacity of the woman before him. To think that she had the temerity to attempt to besmirch Beatrice’s name, especially when she wasn’t here to defend herself, appalled him.
“As I understand it, nobody from the Psychic Circle could be held accountable for the deaths of Mr Montague or Miss Haversham, because nobody in Tipton Hollow knew that they were living with a killer in their midst,” he bit out. “The police didn’t find anyone other the killer responsible. It is unwise for anyone to insinuate that any surviving member of the Psychic Circle, who is not already in jail, should be implicated in what went on purely because they were there at the time. It is outrageous, and highly insulting for anyone to be foolish enough to suggest such a thing.”
He gave her his darkest scowl and dropped his gaze to her hand, which still crumpled the material of his jacket. He quite carefully and deliberately prised each finger off, one by one; then dropped her hand. When he lifted his gaze, he saw shock and outrage on her face rather than apology, and it enraged him even more.
“I would strongly recommend that you confine your comments to more appropriate matters in the future, madam, because I do not consider us to be on a firm enough acquaintance for you to give me advice on what I should, or should not, get myself involved with. If the ladies from the Psychic Circle have taken it upon themselves to form a different circle which helps others, then good, I say. I applaud their endeavours, and have nothing but the upmost contempt for people who wish to besmirch any worthwhile activity they wish to conduct. Good day to you,” he snapped.
Before she could open her mouth to speak, he quite pointedly turned around and marched out of the graveyard. His fists clenched with the need to punch something, or turn back and give the old bag another piece of his mind.
It was only the thought that there might still be enough time to catch up with Beatrice that made him lengthen his stride and head out of the graveyard.
Beatrice drew in a deep breath and tipped her head back to allow the sunshine to bathe her face. The warmth outside was heaven in contrast to the almost frigid interior of the old stone church, and almost echoed her personal feelings about going there each week. She knew that at some point she would have to make a decision as to whether she wanted to continue to go to church each Sunday but, right now, she didn’t want anything to dampen her enjoyment of such a wonderful summer’s day.
Right now, she needed to savour the best of the afternoon and enjoy the birdsong, while she tried to block out all thoughts of just how handsome Benedict Addison had looked this morning.
To her consternation, somewhere off in the distance, the low rumble of carriage wheels suddenly interrupted the silence. At first she didn’t pay it any attention to it but, when the noise grew steadily louder, she was forced to open her eyes and consider it more closely.
She immediately made her way over to the grass verge which ran alongside the country lane but, to her utter horror, her boot had barely touched the grass when a huge black carriage flew past at breakneck speed. It was so close to her that she felt the rumble of the wheels mere inches from her toes.
She stepped onto the grass to avoid falling beneath the wheels but, at the last minute, realised that a deep ditch ran beneath the thick hedgerow. In a desperate attempt not to fall into either the hedge or the ditch, she flailed her arms wildly and staggered sideways. Unfortunately, she stepped into a hole that was hidden in the grass and twisted her ankle.
“You idiot!” Beatrice cried after the carriage as it disappeared rapidly down the lane. She watched it turn out of sight, and cursed the selfishness of the driver. He must have seen her; why hadn’t he stopped to see if she was alright?
“Oh, no,” she muttered as she tried to put her weight onto her ankle only for pain to immediately shoot up her shin. She stared down in horror. Her ankle throbbed mercilessly and, while she hadn’t felt anything pop or crack, she knew that it had been injured. She swallowed and tried to think what she should do.
Hardly anybody used this lane, so it was highly unlikely that anyone would pass by soon and be able to offer assistance. Maud would use the lane to get home but, unfortunately, could be several hours yet.
Beatrice sighed. If she wanted to get home at all, she had to do so under her own steam no matter how much it hurt.
“Can this day get much worse?” She gasped tearfully as she began to hobble toward home.
To her utter disbelief, she soon realised that her day could indeed get considerably worse as the first drops of rain began to fall around her.
She glared up at the dark clouds that seemed to grow increasingly darker with each passing minute. “Thank you,” she snapped at the sky.
The tentative step she took sent white-hot shafts of pain up her leg, and she knew that her journey home had just become incredibly difficult. Her instinctive wince was accompanied by a cry of pain, which escaped her in spite of the teeth that bit into her bottom lip.
She hobbled once or twice more, and managed to get off the verge and onto the more solid lane, but it didn’t help the soreness of her ankle which wasn’t able to bear much of her weight at all.
To add insult to injury, the sky chose that moment to gather as many rain clouds as it could and hold them over her. Within seconds, the heavens opened and she found herself in a sudden deluge that was relentless. A low rumble of warning rattled somewhere off in the distance, and assured her that she would be extremely foolhardy if she lingered outside any longer than she absolutely had to.
She knew that there was only one thing worse than being caught out in a rainstorm miles from home with a foot injury, and it was being caught out in a thunderstorm miles from home with a foot injury. With a disgusted sigh, she swiped rainwater out of her eyes and began to stumble, stagger and hop her way home.
Ben struggled to contain his fury as he trotted along the road toward Beatrice’s house. How dare that old harridan, Mrs Underwick, have the utter gall to accost him in the churchyard in the first place, let alone attempt to ‘advise’ him on what he should and should not get involved with? He was tempted to donate to new Circle just to spite the old gossip.
Of course everyone in the area had heard of the events that had surrounded the old Tipton Hollow Psychic Circle. How would in anyone not given that two members of the circle had been murdered? People were still talking about it to this day and, he rather suspected, would be for years to come. He was just glad that Beatrice was still alive. He had been away when the murders had taken place, but would never forget the moment when he had heard about what had happened. The thought that Beatrice could have ended up one of the murder’s victims had haunted him to the point that he had hurried to church the following Sunday, just to see for himself that she really was alright.
As though she had been sent by the Gods, Beatrice suddenly appeared in the lane before him. Unfortunately, it was evident that she had been hurt since she had left the churchyard. He scowled and watched the half-walk, half-stumble of her gait. He stood up in his stirrups and glanced around the empty fields on either side of the lane. As far as he could tell, they were the only people for miles around. What on earth could have gone wrong in the last few minutes?
“Beatrice? What’s happened?”
Everything within her froze at the sound of his voice. Even though she hadn’t turned around, she knew exactly who it was because she would recognise that voice anywhere. Those rich, husky tones were as familiar to her as her own voice. Her heart began to thump heavily in her chest and she looked around desperately to try to find a way out of having to talk to him, but there was nowhere to turn to. She had no choice but to reluctantly face him.
Just a few moments ago she had wondered if her day could get any worse; now she knew.
“I am fine thank you, Mr Addison, please don’t let me keep you,” she replied carefully, and waited for him to pass.
If the scowl on his face is anything to go by, he clearly wants to be anywhere but here too, she thought moro
sely. Not that she could blame him. She was cold, wet, miserable, and wished she had not left the house at all that morning. Right now she would rather be anywhere but stuck by the side of the road in the pouring rain.
To her consternation, he didn’t move. What was he waiting for? Why wasn’t he going home to get out of this rain?
Ben briefly contemplated what to do. He could hardly call the lady a liar to her face, but he had seen her discomfort with his own eyes; she was most definitely not alright. She was in considerable pain. Did she hate him so much that she would rather suffer pain and permanent injury than accept his help?
He pushed down his hurt with a glare. He wanted to get down and at least find out what had happened to her in the short amount of time that had passed since she had left the church. Unfortunately, given the blank look on her face and the stiff, somewhat awkward way she held herself, he knew that any attempt at friendship, or even help, would most probably be firmly rebuffed.
“Do you need any help?”
“No, thank you.”
When he continued to study her, Beatrice began to suspect that he wanted her to try to walk again, but refused to prove to him that she had lied. She threw him a defiant look and waved toward the empty lane before them.
“Please, don’t let me keep you.” Unfortunately, her bravado was ruined by the rather loud sneeze she couldn’t control and she wished, right there and then, that the ground would just open up and swallow her.
“Good day,” Ben snapped and doffed his imaginary cap as he nudged his horse into a walk. He glared at her as he passed, but she didn’t look up and meet his gaze. He wasn’t sure if that annoyed him more than her refusal to accept his help.
He cursed himself for being several kinds of fool for being attracted to a stubborn woman, but had little choice than to walk right on by, and leave her at the side of the road. It went against everything within him to leave a stranded lady alone, but he could hardly kidnap her, and she had made it more than clear that she wasn’t prepared to accept his help.
Still, each step the horse took felt like a mile and, by the time he turned out of the end of the lane, he knew that he just couldn’t do leave her.
CHAPTER TWO
“If you can’t get home now, you have only yourself to blame,” she muttered in disgust as she watched him disappear out of the end of the lane. She suddenly regretted her decision not to call him back and ask for help because now, thanks to her stubborn pride, she had foolishly put herself into a ridiculous situation whereby she needed a miracle to be able to get home at all.
She sighed deeply and studied a gap in the hedge a few feet away. A five bar gate led to a field beside her and, although it didn’t lead her directly to her driveway, if she cut across it she could reduce her journey by at least a third of a mile. It was her only option right now because her ankle throbbed mercilessly, and her boot had started to feel incredibly tight. It was becoming increasingly evident that if she didn’t start to move soon she was not going to go anywhere at all, and the last thing she needed was to be stuck out on the lane overnight.
With no hope of anyone else passing by anytime soon, she took one last, dour look at the empty road, and began to hobble awkwardly toward the field.
Damned fool woman will be the death of herself, Ben snorted in disgust as he watched her stumble across the field. It was a miracle that she didn’t fall flat on her face. Although he tried to harden his heart and go home, he just couldn’t bring himself to abandon her. He knew that if he went home, he wouldn’t settle until he could be sure that she had reached Brantley Manor safely.
However, he could hardly stand behind the hedge all afternoon; he had to do something.
When she struggled for several more minutes and almost fell over, he decided that enough was enough. If he had to kidnap her to get her to let him help then that is what he would do. Anything was better than having to watch her stumble along in such pain. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he shook his head in disgust and went after her.
Beatrice frowned at the ground beneath her feet and listened to the heavy thudding noise grow steadily louder. She looked up, and her stomach immediately dropped to her toes when she saw who was galloping toward her.
“Oh, Lord,” she whispered as she studied his dark frown. The sight of him, tall and resplendent atop his huge black horse was a sight that stirred her to her soul but, from the dark glare on his face, he posed more of a threat to her than the horse.
A deep sense of foreboding swept through her as she watched him rein the horse to a stop a few feet away. Unfortunately, there was nowhere she could hide so she had little choice but to stand still and wait to hear what he had to say.
She opened her mouth to speak to him when he quickly dismounted and strode toward her but, to her consternation he immediately swept her off her feet without giving her the chance to speak. All she could do was cling on to his broad shoulders in silence as he carried her to the horse and lifted her effortlessly onto the saddle.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” His voice was soft and gentle as he mounted the horse behind her and wrapped her in his arms.
At first, she was tense and nervous at being so close to a man; and this man in particular. However, her tension wasn’t fuelled with wariness or distrust; this was something deeper and far more intense, only she couldn’t put a name to what it was. Was it attraction? Was it awareness? Whatever it was it held her spellbound, and unable to think of anything other than just how handsome he was up close.
With no room to manoeuvre, she had little choice but to settle against him and allow him to hold her. She looked up at him and watched a single rivulet of rainwater trickle slowly down his face. He seemed completely oblivious to its progress, but she stared raptly at it as it clung for several moments to the edge of his jaw. Her fingers clenched against the need to reach up and brush it away but, thankfully, it disappeared into the finely woven material of his sodden jacket before temptation got the better of her.
This was the first time she had seen him up close and he was, incredibly, even more handsome than she had thought he was. His eyes were a warm amber colour and framed with the thickest, and longest, lashes she had ever seen on anyone, male or female. How could she have ever thought he was cold and aloof? He was by far the most vibrant man she had ever seen in her life.
“Are you alright?” he murmured, acutely aware of her steady gaze. He had tried to ignore the fact that she was staring at him, but those beautiful blue eyes had started to distract him to the point that he just had to speak, or he was going to do something that would upset her, like kiss her.
Beatrice snapped out of her perusal of his lips and struggled not to squirm in embarrassment. She shouldn’t have been so blatant in her study of him, but there was nothing she could say that would explain her curiosity. He held her so tightly against him that she could feel his warm breath against her cheek, and the steady thump of his heart next to hers, it was a truly mesmerising experience that she wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to come to an end.
Unfortunately, in that moment the horse stumbled and jolted them both, and in doing so prevented her having to answer him. Her gasp was squeezed out of her by the steely cords of his arms which tightened around her waist and drew her protectively against his warmth.
“It’s alright, he won’t let you fall,” he murmured reassuringly.
Beatrice merely nodded. Words failed her. She couldn’t get her mind to focus on anything other than how wonderfully precious he made her feel and, in the space of a few short minutes, and very few words, had made her reassess her opinion of him. This man was definitely not cold and aloof; austere and somewhat forbidding. This man was deeply, intensely, mesmerising. His blatant masculinity had captured her; ensnared her, and refused to let her go, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she minded one bit.
Ben stared at the gate and struggled to remember which direction her house was in. His mind refused to focus on anything other t
han the feel of her in his arms. It was so disturbingly tempting to know that all he had to do was turn his head and his lips would practically be on hers. He struggled to keep his face impassive because he knew that in spite of her curiosity, if she saw any hint of his true emotions on his face, she would be afraid. He had to maintain some sort of emotional distance right now, even if he couldn’t create a physical one, because it was far too soon in their acquaintance for him to kiss her. However, when she continued to study him so intently, he couldn’t ignore her a moment longer. In spite of their closeness, he looked down at her, and was immediately ensnared by her beauty once more.
His heart flipped at the sight of the rainwater on her face, and the loose tendrils of hair that there plastered to her rosy cheeks but, if at all possible, she looked more stunning than ever before.
“Why did you not tell me you were hurt, Beatrice?” He was careful to keep any hint of accusation out of his voice but waited a little impatiently for her to reply.
“I didn’t realise just how bad my ankle was, really,” she replied quietly. “I mean, it hurt, but I thought that if I could cut across the field then I could get home before the thunderstorm struck. Unfortunately, the field is rougher than I thought it was and it has just made my ankle hurt more.”
“I meant, why didn’t you ask for my help back in the lane? I could have left you, you know.”
“I just thought I could hobble my way home by myself,” she replied weakly. “You have only got one horse after all and – well –”
“What happened anyway? How did you do it?” Ben frowned at the lane ahead of them, and tried to keep control of his temper.
Beatrice Page 2