Self-loathing ripped through him. Why did he still let his father’s brutality hold him in its demoralizing grip? He’d proved himself on the battlefield over and over, and yet one memory from his past and he still felt like the shameful, idiot son.
Just then he heard someone coming through the undergrowth and he forced his eyes open. Nigel was hurrying through the bush and right behind him was Abigail. She pushed passed Nigel and dropped to her knees beside him.
“Oh, thank goodness. You’re awake,” and she tenderly cupped his chin, studying him with concerned eyes. “Do you think you can stand?”
His head still swam and his stomach wanted to expel its contents. “If Nigel could help me, I’m sure we’ll manage.”
Nigel looked worried. “I think it would be easier through this bush if you jumped upon my back and I carry you. Walking two astride is not an option.”
Guy wasn’t in any condition to argue.
Both Abigail and Nigel helped him stand and he had to swallow down the bile. Thank goodness Nigel was a strapping lad. Soon, Abigail was using his knife to hack the growth, helping lead them out to the sunlight, which immediately made his head fill with hammers.
Nigel set him down on Rose’s bench and they discussed what to do. Really he did not care. Just sitting in the sun made him have to concentrate on not losing the contents of his stomach. Abigail was checking his wound. “It looks as if it’s stopped bleeding.”
“We can walk him to Aunt’s cottage on your horse, you can ride with him in case he gets dizzy. We can either wait for help from the big house, or I’ll hitch up her wagon and we can take him home.”
He was in no condition to argue so off they set. Every step jarred his head, and he closed his eyes against the sunlight and pain. However, having Abigail’s arms round him for support made it all worthwhile.
When they finally reached the cottage, Mrs. Heaphy was ready for him. She’d made up the bed in the parlor and they helped him lie down. Soon she and Abigail were removing the makeshift bandage and bathing his wound and pressing a cold compass to his forehead. He lay content with their fussing. Finally they left him to rest and he blissfully slipped into sleep.
* * *
—
Abigail stood in the doorway watching Guy’s chest rise and fall in an even pattern.
Mrs. Heaphy moved to stand beside her. “He’s a big strapping man and has endured far worse injuries. He’ll survive. Come.” She patted Abigail’s arm. “A cup of tea should calm all our nerves.”
Soon they sat by the fire in the kitchen, sipping strong tea. Nigel was busy hooking up the wagon.
“They might blame me for his condition and I’ll have to leave before I’ve even begun,” Abigail said mainly to herself.
“Don’t be silly. You didn’t push him, did you?”
Abigail shook her head. “No. Everything was fine—and then he seemed to have some kind of fit.”
“A fit? Are you sure?”
“Well, we were walking toward a clearing with a large oak tree in it, when he looked as if he’d seen a ghost. He started clawing at his neck, and when I moved to help he stepped back and tripped over some bramble roots, hitting his head.”
Mrs. Heaphy’s face portrayed a myriad of emotions. “Did the tree have a piece of rope hanging from it?”
“Yes.”
Mrs. Heaphy put down her cup. “Oh, dear. I thought he would have forgotten that dreadful day. Silly me. How could he ever forget the day his father tried to kill him?”
Abigail almost dropped her cup. “Kill him?”
Chapter 8
Before Mrs. Heaphy could say more, Nigel arrived. “The wagon is ready. I think we should get him back to the big house so the doctor can look at that head injury.”
“Aye. The gash doesn’t look too deep but I don’t like the paleness in his face, and the fact he’s so sleepy. Bangs on the head can be dangerous. The doc best see to him.”
Abigail wanted to object and learn more. It looked like Patrick was correct. The family was hiding something. Perhaps Nigel could tell her more on the way home.
* * *
—
To Abigail’s disappointment it was difficult to ask Nigel questions with Guy lying alert behind them. The clatter of the wheels on the road, and the two horses neighing and trotting behind the wagon where they had been tied, meant that to be heard she almost had to yell. And yelling meant Guy could hear.
However, all was not lost. If Mrs. Heaphy knew about the tree then her son, Brodie, most likely would too. She glanced over her shoulder at Guy and decided to be patient. No point rousing Guy’s suspicions by pushing for information too soon.
Halfway back to Argyle House, Kit and reinforcements arrived, letting them know that the doctor was also on his way, and would meet them at the house.
“I can’t leave you alone for a minute without you getting yourself into trouble,” Kit teased as he rode alongside the wagon.
“I tripped over a bloody log, can you believe it,” Guy responded.
Kit winked at Abigail. “Too busy looking at Miss Abigail, I suspect.”
Guy’s face paled again and he glanced in her direction. “I cannot blame her for my own clumsiness.” A secret look passed between the two men and Kit’s smiled died.
The rest of the way home was filled with silence. She could see Kit stealing glances at Guy and then looking at her. Were they worried she’d blabber about what actually occurred? It wasn’t her that had distracted Guy, it was the rope and the tree, and now she knew why. His father had tried to kill him. But the real question she had to answer was why. And when. It must have been when he was a young boy because she doubted any man would be able to subdue Guy on his own.
As soon as they drew up outside the house Guy’s mother and Dora raced to meet them.
“I’m perfectly fine, Mother. Just a bump on the head.”
“The doctor will be the one to decide that. Mr. Hunter, will you help my son to his room?”
Dora helped Abigail down from the cart. “Are you all right?”
Abigail squeezed Dora’s hand. “It’s been an adventure, that’s for sure, but his lordship was the only one hurt. Why don’t you assist Lady Argyle while I help with the horses?”
“The grooms will take care of them,” her sister said.
“I just want to have a quick chat with the head groom, Brodie. I met his mother and wish to pass on a message.” More lies.
Dora didn’t argue and followed the others inside.
Abigail untied her mare from the back of the cart while one of the grooms saw to Bolton.
Having a conversation with Brodie was like talking to a scarecrow—no answers were forthcoming. She was helping him in the stable by seeing to the mare she had ridden, hoping to learn more about what happened in the forest today.
“I’m so grateful his lordship is looking better. He took a nasty tumble. Thank goodness your nephews were at your mother’s cottage.”
He did not stop seeing to his lordship’s steed but did finally say, “How did you find the cottage? It’s quite well hidden by trees.”
She ran the brush over the horse’s mane. “Before we entered the forest, I found the bench your father made for your mother. His lordship pointed out your mother’s cottage while explaining who built the bench and why. It was a lovely story.”
Brodie merely nodded.
“I suspect you, and the local lads, and the two young lords spent many an afternoon in the woods. It’s the perfect place to build a fort, or to reenact war games, and to hunt.” She sighed loudly. “I grew up in London, where it was smoggy, smelly, and overcrowded.”
That at least brought a smile to Brodie’s face. “Sometimes I don’t remember how lucky I am. I did play with their lordships as I grew up, and we did love that forest. And it was Reginald, the late earl, who gave me my first position working as a stable hand and then over the years I learned all I could about horses, and he made me head groom.”
She c
ouldn’t help the burst of envy burning in her gut. She didn’t want to tell him how she’d spent her early years. “That’s why I find it so strange that his lordship would have such a panic in the middle of a forest he himself told me he knew better than the lines on the back of his hand.”
Brodie’s lips firmed and he vigorously brushed hay over Guy’s steed, wiping the stallion down.
“I wonder if it had something to do with what your mother told me?” Still no reaction. So she added, “She mentioned something about his lordship’s father trying to kill him. But that can’t be true.”
She laughed, waiting for Brodie to confirm or deny, but he merely turned toward her and said, “I owe this family everything and I won’t allow anyone to hurt them.”
She pretended she didn’t understand his warning. “Well, I’m hoping to put your knowledge of the forest to good use. I’ll need someone to help me find the orchids. His lordship mentioned he would make a groom available to accompany me. He suggested you. I’m not sure you’ll have time, but I’d really appreciate it if you could help me.”
Her change of subject made his shoulders relax. “Many years ago my mother mentioned seeing the orchids. I think she even picked some for her vases.”
All thoughts of Guy’s family secrets fled. She stopped brushing and moved toward Brodie excitedly, asking, “Would she remember where?” The stallion took fright and reared backward.
“Woo boy.” Brodie frowned at her and she stepped back. “Did you not mention that to her today?”
“I was too worried about his lordship. Do you think your mother would mind if I called on her tomorrow and asked her about the orchids?”
“I’m sure she would enjoy the company. Whether she’ll remember where the orchids were is another matter.”
She fed the mare a sugar cube, rubbing her nose before closing the stall behind her. “I shall see you tomorrow,” she whispered to the mare, who whinnied a reply. “I shall call on your mother tomorrow at midday, and ask Cook to make me a basket to take with me. I’m sure your mother would love someone else’s cooking for a change.”
* * *
—
“I’m at a bit of a loose end with his lordship resting. Do you need any help in here?” Kit was pleased to find Dora alone for a change. He was determined to use Molly’s absence to his advantage. He wanted to get to know Dora better. For the first time in his life, seducing a woman into his bed was not his goal. Kit wanted to honorably court her.
He loved the way Dora’s face flushed with color. “I will need some of the larger books moved at some stage, but I’m still cataloging.”
He desperately tried to think of something he could do to keep him in the room, but his angel did that for him.
“If you like, you could keep me company while I work. I’d love to hear stories of your travels.”
The only reason he traveled was the army, and he was pretty sure she would not want to hear about the conditions they’d faced. He’d seen a lot of the world and some of the scenery was exquisite, but the wars they had fought, and the blood and guts of their comrades who’d died, always tainted it.
“For instance, what is the favorite place you have visited on your travels?”
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “That is a hard question. You’ve done a bit of traveling yourself.”
She pursed her lips at him. “Get on. Ireland, Scotland, and England. Not real traveling like you, I imagine.”
He moved to look out the window as Dora arranged books in the bookshelves near the fireplace, her fresh lily scent filling his senses. His good looks meant women usually fell at his feet or into his bed. He had no trouble finding paramours. He wasn’t vain. He had no say in how he looked. He couldn’t see it himself, but apparently his face drew women like a moth to a flame. He knew Dora was drawn to him. Her eyes followed him whenever she was near, and she often made excuses to talk with him.
But he wanted more than to be a young lady’s first crush. He also didn’t want to hurt her.
He turned to face her. “Cape Town with the huge cliffs running down to the most beautiful white sand beaches. I still remember the warm wind and the tepid sea we swam in every day.” He did not add that swimming was the quickest way to get rid of the blood and sweat and stench of death.
“I’ve never swum in the sea. In fact, I’ve never learned to swim.”
Dora’s wistful sigh filled him with images of her swimming naked with him. An innocent mermaid in his arms. “The sea’s much colder around the English coast. I rarely swim here now.”
“I have watched others swim. They float as if they weigh nothing.”
He saw the longing on her face and he instantly wanted to give her the world. “If you’d like, there is a lake on the estate. I’m sure I could arrange for you and Abigail to have some privacy and you could perhaps learn to swim.”
“She’s so busy with her orchid hunt.” He hadn’t noticed how close she had gotten. She looked up at him through half-closed eyelids, and if he didn’t know exactly how innocent she was, he’d think she was flirting with him. “But perhaps with an appropriate costume you could teach me. Molly rests most afternoons between two and four.”
His body surged with excitement and he beat it back.
Dora moved closer until she was standing so near he could almost hear her heart beating. He looked into her eyes and saw the insecurity. Dora was a lovely young woman maybe sensing for the first time the power she could wield over men.
He simply happened to be the first handsome man she’d met, and she perhaps couldn’t understand the feelings stirring deep inside. Attraction and desire were powerful emotions. Did they even frighten her a bit?
He wanted her. Wanted her in the most base way a man wanted a woman. Yet he sensed the innocence behind her forwardness. Sensed she was struggling to move into womanhood. And he would never do anything she might live to regret, or hurt her.
He reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She briefly closed her eyes at his touch. It would be so easy to seduce her but he never wanted to be the man who took away the innocent aura that clung to her like a protective cloak—only a husband had that right.
He wanted her to desire him, but above all, to love him. He didn’t want to be her first infatuation. He wanted more. Kit wanted her heart. Her body. Her soul. He was a patient man and he would tread carefully, go slowly, and learn all there was about the woman he had decided would become his wife.
“While I would be honored to teach you to swim, in fact I could not think of anything I’d rather do, I would not wish to do anything to disrespect your sister, or his lordship’s trust in me.” Her smile died and he saw her bottom lip tremble. “However, if you would permit, I would love to keep you company every day between two and four, and perhaps show you something of the estate and the village.” Her smile was back, and it almost brought him to his knees.
“I would love to explore a bit of the countryside and get some fresh air each day. In summer being stuck inside the library is torture.”
He stepped back, putting some space between them. He wasn’t a saint and she was as tempting as the devil. “How about I arrange for a carriage and I could show you the lake. No swimming, but it is a beautiful place on a sunny afternoon.”
Before she could answer, Kit’s acute hearing and senses honed from battle picked up heavy footsteps approaching—Molly. He quickly pressed a kiss to Dora’s knuckles and moved toward the door. “I shall collect you here tomorrow at two,” he whispered over his shoulder before slipping from the room just before Molly rounded the corner in the hall.
* * *
—
A man did not take well to being confined to bed. If Guy’s head hadn’t still been thumping he would have ignored the doctor’s advice, and his mother’s warning, and gotten up. But as Kit had pointed out earlier, he needed to be fighting fit when cousin Patrick arrived.
By early evening his mood matched that of a roped stallion ready to be gelde
d. On that pleasant thought a sharp knock sounded and Kit entered his bedchamber.
“What have you been up to,” Guy asked sullenly. “You look like you’ve won a fortune at cards.”
“If you must know I have been getting to know my future wife and the mother of my children.”
Guy eyed Kit with amusement. “I hope you are serious. I won’t have you seducing the girl and then you suddenly have a change of heart.”
“I would never dishonor you in that way.”
Guy ran a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just—I’m bored. I’ve never been good at resting. It’s not as if I can read or play cards or anything.”
“I could read to you, or perhaps a game of chess?”
But before Guy could answer there was a knock on the door. “Come,” he responded. It was Brodie.
“Sorry to trouble you, my lord, but I thought you should know that Mother was a tad indiscreet today. She let slip to Miss Pinehurst that your father tried to kill you.”
Guy looked across at Kit as he asked, “Did Rose tell her the full story?”
Brodie shook his head. “No. But then Miss Pinehurst came asking me questions about you and your father. She thought my mother must be wrong. Why would your father want to kill you?”
Kit rose from his chair, concern on his face.
Guy merely asked, “And what did you tell her?”
“Nothing, my lord. I just thought you should know she’s going to see my mother again tomorrow. I stupidly admitted Mother had picked orchids over the years. You don’t need to worry. I will inform Mother to say no more about your father.”
“Thank you, Brodie.”
With that the groom bowed and left the bedchamber. Kit rounded to face Guy. “I suppose it could be natural curiosity.”
Guy nodded, the action sending a hammer banging in his head. “I would want to know more if someone told me that information.” He thought for a moment. “But it would be safer to be sure. I shall accompany her to visit with Rose.”
Attracted to the Earl Page 7