“Who is she?” Harper’s question brought him back to the present. “And why did you tell thirty of your men to make sure she doesn’t leave?”
“It wasn’t that,” he defended with a pout and started walking again. “The forest is a dangerous place. Are Mrs. Gable and her daughter not my tenants? Shouldn’t I protect them?”
“Yes. Yes, you should,” Harper agreed. “But Mrs. Gable and Sarah have been here for years, yet you never put your men around their holding. Why now?”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” he said, “there are more and more thieves in the woods every year.”
“Does the stranger staying with them have something to do with it?”
He stopped and turned to her again. “Let me find her and then I’ll answer you.”
Gray knew Harper wouldn’t stop him when he went in search of the girl. As he made his way to the stables, he wondered how a slight veil like her could kick two of his men in the jaw? How did she even gain that much height?
He didn’t wait for Ghost, his horse to be saddled but leaped onto her back, grabbed fistfuls of her mane, and took off. He’d ridden bareback many times before. In fact, he preferred it to the bulkiness of a saddle. He had a feeling Ghost preferred it as well. The mare ran faster and longer unsaddled.
He broke through the woods as if he knew where every tree was and didn’t come close to barreling into any of them.
He hoped he found the girl. She piqued his interest. Besides appearing in the gossamer fog as if God Himself had dropped her down to earth, her eyes were as vast and as stormy blue as the sky from which she’d fallen. When he’d spoken to her at the Gable’s, her eyes had borne into him, challenging him, unafraid. He’d never met a woman like her. She wasn’t demure. There didn’t seem to be a prudish bone in her body. She wore her silky sun-streaked hair loose around her pretty face. Her cheeks had been red from the cold. Her clothes were out of the ordinary to be sure. She’d worn hose covering her shapely legs under a little skirt in one layer of sheer silk. It was quite indecent. Gray couldn’t say he was opposed to it.
It didn’t take him long to reach the village. The Gable’s homestead was about a mile farther away. But this was the first village she would have come to, so he decided to look here first.
When he didn’t find her, he asked if anyone else had seen her. Old Beatrice Herderson told him a pretty, young stranger came through earlier asking how to get to Dartmouth Castle.
“My castle?” he asked, not sure he heard her right.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she said, staring at him as if she just remembered something, “she was looking for you in particular, my lord.”
“Me?” he repeated, looking surprised. “Did she say why?”
Old Beatrice blushed. “Now, my lord, who needs a reason to want to see you?”
“She does, Beatrice.” He pouted, curling his lower lip. “She doesn’t like me.”
He was in the habit of doing one of two things—either remaining utterly detached or wearing his heart on his sleeve to anyone who would listen. Besides, almost everyone in the first village of Dartmouth liked Gray. Many of the older tenants, like Beatrice, remembered his mother and his grandmother, and how he was treated when the animals killed George Gable. After everyone had time to think about the accusations against the duke’s odd son, they realized how mad it was to believe that he had ordered the animals to do it, and that they obeyed him.
“Why wouldn’t she like you, child?”
Listening to her, Gray was reminded of the many times she or one of the other elders had tried to convince him that he was wrong about the other children not liking him. He looked at the dirt beneath his boots and put on a slight smile. He wasn’t a child anymore.
“She has every reason to find you appealing,” Beatrice defended him. “You are kind and generous. Edward the butcher told us how you made a deal with cattle farmers to supply Edward with all his meat at substantially less than what he paid elsewhere, saving his business. You are the most handsome young man in the castle and the three villages! You are not haughty, despite being the duke’s only son, a Barrington, and dripping in power and prestige. You do a good job appearing as if you do not care about much—but some of us know better.”
Now he settled his gaze on her and let a warm smile shine on her from the corner of his mouth. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t believe words had the same impact as a well-timed, earnest smile.
Why was the girl looking for him? Despite Beatrice’s reassurances, he didn’t think the stranger cared much what he looked like. From the way she argued with him, it was clear she didn’t care about his power or prestige.
She kicked two of his guardsmen in the jaw to get away. And where was she headed? His castle! Where in the blazes was Will Gable? If he couldn’t stop her, why hadn’t he gone with her?
Should he go to the Gable’s or to his castle?
He decided on the latter and took the shortcut along Castle Road. He’d almost made it back to the castle when he saw her walking up ahead, alone. He slowed his mount, watching her.
She moved at a slow pace, her arms dangling at her sides. She wore a coat, likely belonging to Elspeth or the youngest Gable, Sarah, and today she wore a petticoat beneath her skirts, most likely belonging to one of the other women in the Gable household.
Madly, Gray felt grateful that her hosts were taking care of her, and that today was noticeably warmer than the day she arrived.
He was happy to see her hair falling down her back, free to snap around her when a breeze blew by. Sizing her up, he decided he liked her gait. It was feminine and unhurried, confident and—the thing he liked best—graceful. Even brushing away a strand of her hair from across her eyes captivated him. He barely realized in time that she was turning. She must have heard him behind—
“Are you following me?” she demanded.