Led Astray by a Rake (The Husband Hunters Club 1)

But Estelle wasn’t about to be diverted from her warning. “You never know, miss. Just as well I’ll be there with you. Me and Abbot will protect you.”

The bird in the treetops called again, bringing Olivia back to her lonely trek through the woods. She wished Estelle was with her now, and Abbot, too. But most of all she wished for Nic.

Alphonse settled himself in the undergrowth. He was wearing an overcoat and an old cap that he could pull down low over his brow. He was trying to look like a poacher, or some other kind of desperate character, just in case anybody saw him. Although he’d taken very good care that no one did. The gun was his own property, and he was a rather good shot, if he did say so himself. It was just one of his many accomplishments.

Theodore was still suffering, and still in bed. Alphonse had left him sipping peppermint tea and complaining about a headache. Well, if Theodore wouldn’t do anything to make his dreams come true, then his brother would.

Nic dismounted, leaving his horse tethered at the edge of the thick wood, and began to make his way along the narrow, overgrown path. He didn’t come there often—there was something alienating about this place. He knew of the rumors of pagan rites and witches’ covens meeting in secret around the old stone, but he’d never seen any sign of it, and he had trouble imagining the good folk of Bassingthorpe cavorting naked under the full moon.

Olivia must know of the rumors, too, and he wasn’t sure why she’d chosen this place. Any proper young lady would surely avoid the pagan stone and the clearing, but Olivia wasn’t your conventional proper young lady. There was a wild streak in her, a willingness to fly in the face of convention. He remembered that when he’d suggested he might pretend to be his wicked Lacey ancestor while she pretended to be a beautiful peasant girl, she’d not only agreed, she’d reveled in it.

Had Olivia brought him there for more playacting? Nic could be the pagan prince and Olivia the willing sacrifice, or perhaps she was the pagan goddess and he the innocent plowman who’d stumbled into her web.

Nic grinned. He was more than ready, whatever she wanted to do. Devil take it, he could hardly wait. The rake was entirely enthralled by Miss Monteith. Not that he’d tell her that, not yet anyway. There would be plenty of time to tell each other their secrets, and he certainly was in no hurry to share Jonah with her.

Not that he was ashamed of the boy, but a secret like that…Olivia might leave him. Not physically, he knew she wouldn’t do that; their social positions made leaving impossible. As Lady Lacey, she’d stay and play her part, standing by his side in public and smiling her calm and beautiful smile, even producing the heir he required. But beneath the brittle surface he would have lost her, she’d have taken her heart and her mind somewhere else, leaving him with nothing but an empty shell.

Nic cursed softly under his breath and quickened his steps.

Olivia saw the clearing ahead of her, with the pagan stone in its center. It was actually three stones—two upright pillars with another flatter stone forming a lintel across the top—giving the impression of a roughly hewn table. The honey-colored stones glowed eerily, as if from a fire burning within them, although Olivia knew it was simply the light filtering through the leaves above. She had the impression of something very old and very powerful, standing as it did in the center of the clearing, in the center of the wood.

Softly, because it felt as if noise was forbidden here, she walked forward. No birds sang now. She might have been the only living thing in the woods…if it were not for the sensation that she was not alone. Olivia had a strong urge to glance over her shoulder, just in case there was something there, but she stifled it, telling herself not to be silly.

Nic would arrive soon.

Olivia made up her mind she’d ask him if th

ey could go somewhere else and talk—the place where the stepping stones crossed the stream would be much more comfortable. Soft grass and the ripple of the water and sunbeams shining down on them as they lay in each other’s arms. Sheer bliss.

A rustle at the far edge of the clearing distracted her. “Nic?” She listened intently but the sound didn’t come again, and she could see nothing but shadows among the trees. With a sigh she stood restlessly by the stone and prepared to wait.

Alphonse heard Olivia’s call and knew she was in place. Good. He settled his gun against his shoulder, sighting along the barrel. Nic would be coming along the path in a moment, all unsuspecting and full of his victory. Let him enjoy it while he could, Alphonse didn’t begrudge him a few more moments of triumph, because very soon Lacey would be gone and Theodore could take what was rightfully his.

Footsteps.

He watched intently from his hiding place as a figure approached, at first just a dark shape moving between the tree trunks, and then growing clearer as it drew closer. Lacey’s head was bowed, and he was limping slightly—Theodore had said something about him being lame. Alphonse knew the exact spot where he was going to pull the trigger. There was a dip in the path and then a fallen log. To get to the clearing, Lacey would have to climb over the log, and that would make him the perfect target.

Alphonse’s finger waited on the trigger and he took a breath, clenching his teeth. One moment more and it would all be over.

Lacey reached the fallen log and stopped. Alphonse could see him deciding how best to climb over it with the burden of his lame leg. Finally he sat down and swung his leg over, and in that moment he was astride the log and facing Alphonse.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

The moment had come.

Alphonse heard her before he saw her. Olivia, running along the path from the clearing. She flung herself into Lacey’s arms, causing him to lose his balance.

Alphonse barely managed to lift the gun barrel in time, sending the bullet plowing harmlessly into the trees. The crack of the shot was deafening.

Olivia screamed. Lacey leaped over the log with her still in his arms, tumbling her down onto the ground and out of sight. Cursing under his breath, Alphonse did the only thing he could. Ran. He crashed through the undergrowth, his heart pounding, not daring to slow down or turn and see if he was being pursued.

He’d almost shot Olivia. He’d almost killed his brother’s future wife!

This was Lacey’s fault, Alphonse thought furiously. Theodore was right, the man deserved to die.

The horse was tethered on the far side of the woods, and when Alphonse reached it, he crouched over to catch his breath. It was difficult to hear with his heart thumping, but after a moment he was certain there was no one following him. He was safe. Now all he had to do was calmly ride his horse home again and pretend to be annoyed that the friend he’d set out to visit wasn’t at home.

Alphonse tore off his cap and shrugged off the overcoat, bundling both out of sight into his saddlebag. Did this mean he’d have to think up another plan? If all had gone as expected it would be over by now, and he’d be preparing to bask in Theodore’s gratitude.