A Terrible Misunderstanding (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite 6)

“Have you seen any other strangers in the area?” Harry asked before the boy could do just that.

“No sir,” the young boy called already skipping away. “You are the only strangers in the village.”

Niall shook his head because he didn’t doubt that. He dug deep for his patience, not least because the boy was apt to go home and report his sighting of them to his mother, who would undoubtedly tell the locals that three strangers were in the area.

“In a place like this our presence is going to be known to everyone within the hour,” Harry growled in disgust.

“Let’s get out of here.” Niall opened his mouth to call his thanks to the lad only to find he had vanished just as quickly as he had appeared.

“We need to scout around to find somewhere to stay while we are here,” Will sighed. “I will do it. You two go and locate the aunt’s house.”

Harry and Niall were left with no choice but to find somewhere safe to hide their horses so they could set out on foot to find Miss Clara Potter’s house. Niall could only hope what they found there was as unappealing as his colleagues’ description of her had been.

“I will go and search the area this side of the main street. You go and search around the other half. We are looking for a tall, large building. It’s called the Oaks, or the Cedars. Something after a damned tree anyway,” Niall growled.

Harry rolled his eyes but grinned and tapped his forehead with his finger before he disappeared. Niall watched until darkness swallowed him and then, with increasing reluctance, headed off in the opposite direction. He had no idea why he should be so bothered about his part in this investigation, but his gut was screaming

at him that something was about to happen, and it was dangerous.

Clara hurried down the main street of the village she had lived in practically all her life, and absolutely adored. Today, though, she was far from content with her lot in life. She was cold, tired, and just wanted to go home.

Serpentine was small, quaint, but right now so deathly quiet it was unnerving. Normally, peace didn’t bother Clara, who usually revelled in having the streets to herself. She liked being able to go about her business without having to stop and engage in idle chit-chat about her life. Not that she minded stopping for a quick chat with anybody. It was nice that so many people wanted to stop and talk with her and share little anecdotes about their lives. But it was equally nice to be able to walk around unhindered by curious locals eager to pass the time of day, or friends who wanted to know when she would meet and take tea with them.

“Tonight, I just want to go home, and quickly. Very, very quickly.” Clara knew why as well. She didn’t want to be accosted by her nemesis, the one man in the village who had a penchant for harassing her no matter what she was doing: Erasmus Boyle.

“He is more like a damned wart rather than a Boyle,” Clara grumbled beneath her breath.

When she saw her breath fog out before her, Clara tucked her chin into her muffler. It was only when she stopped talking to herself and listened to her surroundings once more that she realised there was something wrong.

“Oh, God, no,” she groaned because deep inside she already knew what it was, or rather who.

Reluctantly, Clara paused but only to take a quick look around the empty street. She was sure she had just heard the hollow sound of footsteps behind her but no matter how hard she studied every nook and cranny of the street there was no sign of the creator of that second pair of footsteps.

Warily, she tugged her cloak tighter around her and resumed her journey with strides as rapid as she could make them without breaking into a flat-out run.

“Not tonight. Please not tonight,” she quietly pleaded, her breath no more than a whisper in the silence of the night. “Just go away or be someone I else. Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him. If it is, I shall bloody scream at the top of my voice and not stop.”

“There is nothing to scream about.”

That taunting, almost lazy voice which slithered toward her out of the darkness was enough make Clara inwardly cringe. She knew Boyle was now standing directly behind her. She could feel the hot whoosh of his breath snaking down her neck but forced herself not to show her revulsion or fear. Instead, Clara forced herself to tip her chin up to a haughty angle before she turned to glare at him with eyes that were cold and hard.

“What do you want, Boyle?” she snarled, as coldly as she could manage.

It sounded so unlike her usual cheery self that she had to wonder if that voice was actually hers. Rather than wait for him to answer, Clara resumed her journey but, unsurprisingly, Erasmus had no intention of letting her escape so easily. Within seconds, he darted around her and planted himself firmly in her path, physically blocking her from leaving.

Clara slammed to a stop and braced herself. Lifting a haughty brow, she waited and made no attempt to hide her disgust of the man who was nothing more than a repulsive pest.

Erasmus Boyle was someone Clara could only describe as sleazy. He had no charm, graciousness, or understanding of what it meant to be a gentleman. His background could only be described as questionable, as were his business dealings from which he earnt most of his supposed wealth. The rumours swirling around about him were of shady business dealings, most of which were with the criminal element of the area.

I don’t doubt that cousin of his, the magistrate, helps to keep him out of gaol.

Unfortunately, since Erasmus had appeared in the village almost a year ago, he had made his lecherous intentions toward Clara perfectly clear and had made no bones about the fact that he considered her a woman who was very vulnerable to predators, namely him.

“Get out of my way please,” Clara bit out in a voice that was harsh and clipped.

“Let me escort you home.” There was a hint of command in his tone that left Clara in no doubt he was going to walk with her whether she accepted his pro-offered arm or not.

“Go away,” she growled. Although she tried to glare at him, Clara suspected it was far too dark for him to see it.