More Than a Stranger: A Sealed With a Kiss Novel (25 page)

Beatrice chimed in, “I should think it would be a far more relaxing day here than mucking about on horseback.”

“I imagine you are correct, ladies, but the hunt will not last long. I am confident I will have the opportunity to spend plenty of time here as well.”

It was truer than he wished to admit—the hunt
wouldn’t
last long. Before he knew it, he would be back on the road to London, his time here naught but a memory. He’d accepted his duty, but Benedict didn’t want to dwell on the rapidly approaching future. For the moment, he simply wanted to live in the excitement of the hunt, savoring the anticipation of racing beside Evie at last.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Richard’s grin. “Of course he will, my dears. As a matter of fact, he should have just enough time for you to take him on a tour when we return.”

Benedict smiled while shooting daggers at his friend. “How delightful.” Why the man enjoyed torturing him so much was beyond him.

“I thought it was your plan to leave us at the conclusion of the hunt.” Evie’s statement was said with complete sweetness, her face serenely innocent.

She was good; he would give her that.

“No, Benedict, you can’t leave before supper,” Carolyn exclaimed, hooking an arm through his. “Jocelyn and I have only just perfected our pianoforte duet. You’ve missed it once; please say that you will stay for our performance tonight.”

“I—,” he started to say, but Jocelyn interrupted before he could get the word out.

“And if you stay through supper, it certainly wouldn’t make sense to leave so late at night.” She turned to their mother, her eyes imploring. “Please tell him he’s welcome here for as long as he likes.”

“Now, now,” Richard said, for once intervening. “If Benedict must be on his way, we mustn’t delay him.”

Lady Granville smiled at Benedict even as she gently disentangled her daughters from his arms. “Richard is correct. Although you are absolutely welcome to stay with us for as long as you wish, Mr. Benedict, even if that is only until the conclusion of the hunt.”

Lord Granville looked up from adjusting the girth of Ronan’s saddle, apparently having just noticed the topic of their discussion. “Why on earth would you want to leave after the hunt? Half the enjoyment is found in recounting the whole event in vivid and exaggerated detail over port after supper.”

“Oh, I’m certain Mr. Benedict has more important matters to attend to than our post-hunt rituals.” Evie smiled at him serenely, though her eyes danced with mirth. “Isn’t that right, Benedict?”

All eyes were on him, and he could practically hear Evie’s trap snap closed around him. He cleared his throat. “I had hoped to reach Berkhamsted by night’s end. . . .”

“Bah, the inn in Berkhamsted is dismal,” Granville said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s hardly worth the effort for a mere two-hour jump on your journey. No, best to get a good night’s rest and set out early.”

With everyone’s attention on Benedict, Evie grinned at him. He was her own personal fox, and she had him well and truly cornered. Even as he tamped down on the frustration welling within him, part of him acknowledged that her sly manipulation gained him something he couldn’t allow on his own—the opportunity to spend one last night with her.

Dipping his head, he said, “I thank you for your hospitality, sir, and of course I will be honored to stay another night.”

* * *

Following an overly enthusiastic send-off from the girls, the hunting party was under way. They made their way to the appointed meeting ground, where a handful of participants, including several of the grooms, were waiting with the head huntsman and the dogs. Allowing the animals to warm up, they deliberately started the hunt several hundred feet away from where the scent was laid. With a slight breeze stirring the air, it wasn’t long before the dogs were headed toward the trees in pursuit of the elusive scent. The party followed close behind into the forestland to the south, and within minutes had vanished into the trees.

Benedict listened to the rustling of dead leaves underfoot, the breathing of the horses, and the restless whining of the dogs as they descended deeper into the woods. Though the trees were without leaves, the sunlight did not quite penetrate the canopy and the air was noticeably cooler. The sunshine of the past two days had not been enough to dry the forest floor, and the dampness of wet leaves permeated the air. As the group progressed, the feeling of excitement and anticipation was nearly tangible.

With his horse’s hooves padding rhythmically on the damp earth, Benedict found himself watching Evie more than the ground in front of him. He felt as if he needed to memorize the way she looked now, in her element, perched proudly and confidently atop her sleek horse. With the gold braiding and tassels swaying from her shoulders, she looked as brilliant as any captain heading into battle.

The sharp sting of a tree branch scraping his cheek snapped him to attention. He winced and touched his hand to his injured cheek. Blood smeared on his two fingers when he pulled them away.
Damn it.
He sighed and wiped his cheek with his shoulder.

“Great Scott, man, have you managed to bloody yourself already?” Richard pulled back on the reins lightly to wait for Benedict to catch up. Reaching into his pocket, Richard pulled out a delicate, silvery handkerchief and handed it over.

Benedict accepted the cloth and pressed it to his cheek. “First blood. Does that mean I win?”

Richard snorted. “Not if you draw it on yourself. I know this is your first time in these woods, but do try and keep up, old man.”

Richard laughed as he pulled ahead, but Benedict got the last word in as Richard took off ahead of him. Pinching the handkerchief between his thumb and forefinger and waving it in the air, Benedict called after him, “Am I to keep your favor, then? Why, thank you, gentle maiden. I shall cherish it forever!”

At that moment the first dog picked up the scent, and immediately a cacophony of howling and barking filled the air and the pack bolted farther south. The atmosphere changed at once, suddenly charged with excitement. As if by magic, all of the apprehension and inner turmoil he had been feeling seemed to vanish. A huge grin sprang unbidden to his face, and he felt an instant surge of anticipation. Spurring his horse, Benedict bent low over Brutus’s neck and let the familiar feeling of exhilaration wash over him. He relished the cool air rushing past his face, carrying away his worries like feathers in the wind.

The group followed loosely behind the baying dogs. While his mind had wandered, most of the field had pulled ahead and were a fair distance away already. Granville was at the lead, his newly acquired Irish hunter sprinting powerfully through the brush as the marquis leaned forward in the saddle. To the right of Granville was Evie, her body moving in perfect accord with Epona as she stormed ahead. Benedict grinned, pride welling within him. She moved as gracefully as any dancer he had ever seen, particularly with her knee hooked on the sidesaddle in what had to be an exceptionally uncomfortable position.

Benedict watched in snatches, keeping an eye on his own route as well. He increased his speed and arched toward the right, breaking away from Richard and falling into line almost behind Evie. Ahead of him, Epona jumped effortlessly to clear a fallen tree, soaring through the air with perfect form before landing lightly without breaking stride. Benedict grinned as a feminine peal of laughter rang through the trees.

He allowed his mount to have his head as they charged toward the log, and he reveled in the incredible exhilaration as Brutus charged and leaped as if he were born to it. Of course, chances were he
was
born to it. The landing was firm but not as graceful as the spry mare, jarring Benedict’s still-sore muscles. When Brutus again found his footing, Benedict leaned low and urged him faster, slowly closing the distance between him and Evie.

Evie never once looked back at him. She must have been able to hear him now. The rhythmic pounding of Brutus’s hooves was mismatched with her own mount’s stride, and she surely knew Benedict was gaining on her. Epona’s legs stretched long and fast, steadily propelling horse and rider forward and finally past the marquis. Benedict caught more giggles from Evie as they pushed ahead. Her joy was contagious, and soon Benedict could make out the sound of her father’s laughter, probably the sound of his conceding defeat. Benedict found himself grinning as he steadily pressed forward.

The howling of the dogs echoed through the woods, alerting them of an eastward turn. Separated by only a few yards, Benedict and Evie raced over the muddy terrain. At a brief clearing, Evie finally hazarded a glance backward, and Benedict was gratified to see her eyes widen momentarily at the sight of him on her heels before they narrowed again quickly and she jerked her attention forward abruptly.

He did not even try to stop the bubble of laughter that escaped his lips. She peeped backward again, and he watched as she lowered her stance even more and appeared to urge Epona to go faster.

Normally he would not have dared to go so fast through unfamiliar terrain, but he knew Evie was perfectly at home and he stayed directly behind her route.

“You’re cheating,” she shouted over her shoulder. “You must find your own way!”

He laughed at her cheek. “All is fair in love and foxhunting, my lady!”

They were a good deal ahead of the others now, Evie lying across Epona with determination evident in her every movement. They had veered off course from the dogs and were merely racing each other now. Benedict hung low to his mount, easily absorbing the jarring stride, without a single care for all the mud Epona’s hooves flung into his face. He glimpsed an opening in the woods ahead and knew she must be heading toward the clearing.

This would be his best chance to usurp her lead. As they broke through the last of the trees, he pushed Brutus faster. The pounding of the horses’ hooves echoed through the trees like rolling thunder. She maintained her lead, but given just a little more time, he could overtake her.

Crack!

Before his mind had even processed the sound or what it meant, Benedict hauled up on the reins and catapulted himself off his mount and to the soft, grassy ground. His momentum was still too great to remain upright, but he instinctually compensated by tucking his body and rolling, smoothly coming to his feet and crouching defensively.

It was seconds before his brain caught up and he realized what had happened.

Bloody hell—a gunshot!

He desperately replayed the scene seconds earlier in his mind.
Oh God—Evie!

While he had reined in at the crack of the gunshot, Epona, still a few yards ahead of him, had started at the sound, and Evie had been unseated. In his mind’s eye he watched in slow motion as she flew through the air, disappearing from view in the tall grass of the clearing.

Please let her be all right!

Cursing sharply, he dashed toward where he had seen her fall, all the while darting glances in every direction, trying to find an unseen enemy, his pulse racing at an unbearable speed. He estimated the shot had come from at least a hundred yards away, maybe even two hundred. The shooter had likely used a Baker rifle so he would have adequate time to escape after sending off the shot.

His heart hammered in his chest, fear giving him a burst of speed and overriding the need for caution. Without thought, he had reverted to his training, acting on instinct alone. He kept low to the ground, well hidden in the overgrown weeds. From his crouched position, he caught a glimpse of Evie’s navy blue habit several yards ahead of him.

Dear God—she wasn’t moving.

Terror lodged in his chest, pressing the air from his lungs as he rushed to her, anxiously throwing looks over his shoulders for the hidden adversary. Had Renault somehow tracked him down? How was that even possible? This was all his fault. Evie had nothing to do with it—other than trusting him enough to ride beside him. Benedict simply had to have been the intended victim. Fear squeezed his heart; if she was dead, then he might as well have pulled the bloody trigger himself.

He dropped down onto his knees beside her still form, sinking slightly into the saturated earth. He saw immediately her arm was hanging unnaturally low from her shoulder, not at all in line with the gold braiding stitched over the shoulder seam. His stomach twisted violently—if she had dislocated her shoulder, there was no telling what other injuries she had sustained in the fall.

Holding his breath, Benedict felt for a pulse at the collar of her riding jacket. Immense relief—more profound than anything he had ever felt in his life—washed over him at the steady pounding of her heartbeat. He breathed deeply for a few seconds, trying to slow his own heart rate and regroup. He pulled his hand away and froze.

Fresh blood, red and wet, smeared his fingertips.

Chapter Twenty

Why have you not written me, Hastings? Are your end-of-term exams keeping you so very busy?

—From Evie to Hastings

E
vie struggled to emerge from the fog of incomprehension flowing around her. She could hear a man’s voice, tense and worried as he tried to rouse her, but she was completely powerless to respond. A flash of pain seared her upper arm, and she involuntarily gasped.

“Evie! Can you hear me? Where are you hurt?”

The pain drowned out his voice, softening the words as if they were spoken underwater. The burn spread from her shoulder, running down her arm and out across her chest. She wished the fog would come back to her now, the insulating layer of haze that had mercifully protected her from the rising wave of pain.