Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy (18 page)

“Hold tight, Boy,” he said over the thunder of the gelding’s hoofs. Aaron whimpered when jarred by the animal’s gait, but the child did not put up a fuss, and for that, Aidan was thankful.

Ahead of him, the unthinkable happened. The mare skidded to a halt to kick up its back legs. Miss Purefoy’s hold had loosened on the reins, and the lady went flying over the mare’s head. At the last second, her foot pulled free of the stirrups, and she landed heavily in a clump of dried vegetation.

Aidan reined in the gelding. Clutching the boy to him, he was on the ground and running to where she laid curled in a ball. As he reached her, he unbuttoned his coat to release the child. “It is well,” he said as calmly as he could. Frightening the child would serve no purpose. “Allow me to see to the lady,” he said as he kissed the boy’s forehead. Thankfully, Aaron obediently stood near while Aidan gently rolled Miss Purefoy to her back.

Although a bit labored, the woman’s breath caused her shoulders to rise and fall. “Easy,” he cautioned, as he said a quick pray of gratitude. Aidan slid his hands up and down her legs and arms to check for broken bones. He wished he had time to enjoy the sensation of touching Miss Purefoy so intimately. He brushed the dirt from her cheek.
God! She was so beautiful!
Why should such a perfect woman be his sister? “Do not move,” Aidan warned as her eyes fluttered open and closed.

“My…my Lord?” The lady’s lips formed the words, but no sound escaped.

“I have you.” Aidan removed her bonnet and touched her hair’s silken strands. It was heaven. She groaned, and he placed his desires aside. “I must see you safely to the house.”

“The boy?” she whispered. Aidan looked up to see his nephew playing with a small stick in the dirt. He frowned. He could not expect Miss Purefoy to hold Aaron while he carried them both to the manor. More than anyone, Aidan understood the ramifications of a severe injury.

“Aaron is safe,” he said. “But I cannot say the same for you.” He glanced to where the gelding waited. The mare had skittered away, likely returning to the stables. “I cannot leave Aaron behind.” Aidan did not take well to abandoning her, but, by nature, he was a practical man. “The cold ground may not be comfortable, but I do not want you to move,” he told her. “I will not be more than a half hour.” Unable to resist, he caught her hand. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly.

“With my life,” she said honestly, and Aidan’s heart clutched tightly in his chest. When he had asked, she had affirmed what he already knew. Implicitly, he was aware of their unspoken bond. How long had it been since anyone had given himself over so completely to Aidan’s protection.
Never
, he thought. The lady’s devotion was a heady experience.

“I will never fail you,” he promised. Without thinking, he brushed his lips across hers and then lingered just a brief moment to feel the warmth spread through him. “Rest,” he said upon a rasp. Pulling away from her was one of the most difficult things he had ever done. He stood to look for his nephew. “Come, Boy,” he called. “We must play the lady’s heroes.”

Immediately, Aaron scampered to where Aidan stood. Whoever had tended the child had taught him to respond quickly. Aidan paced away to catch up the gelding’s reins. Walking the horse toward where Miss Purefoy rested upon the ground, he said, “You will ride with me again,” he told his nephew.

“Kiss,” the child said plainly.

“We have no time for kisses,” Aidan said as the child moved from his reach. “Come along, Aaron.” He motioned the child to him. He had no time to chase the boy in a game, and he could not leave Aaron with the lady while he sought assistance.

The child looked up in bewilderment, but he stubbornly said, “Kiss.” Then Aaron bent over Miss Purefoy to plant a wet kiss on the lady’s cheek. Aidan had never seen anything like it.

“Thank you, Darling,” she said lovingly. Aidan recognized how Miss Purefoy wished desperately to sit up and take the child in her embrace, but she resisted doing so because he looked on. She caressed the boy’s hand. “Now assist your Uncle Aidan by bringing me another horse. Later, we shall have lemon tarts.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” And just like that, the child returned to Aidan’s arms.

As he lifted the boy to him, Aidan declared, “I mean for you to rest, Miss Purefoy. No cheating.”

He had kissed her. Well, not really a kiss. A brush of his lips against hers, but Aidan had wanted more. He had wanted a long, heated sampling of her lips. Wanted to see her mouth swollen from his kisses. To taste her lips fully. To kiss Miss Purefoy until she clung to him and begged for more.
Your misplaced desires had you lingering longer than appropriate
, his rattled senses warned. He had wanted to drape himself across her. To stretch out beside her and drive the madness away. To know her naked beneath him. “Find a medium,” he growled as he turned the gelding toward the stables. Aidan prayed he had not frightened the lady away. Prayed she would not consider leaving simply because his masculine impulses had ruled his brain.

“Kiss,” his nephew said with a smacking sound. “Kiss.” Smack. “Kiss.”

“Do not remind me, Boy,” Aidan groaned. “I was a fool.” He could not imagine what the girl thought of him. If her story held true, Miss Purefoy was his sister. Much to his chagrin, his lust held no sense of propriety. Yet, what if the lady proved to be false? How could he treat her with kindness if she had shown her deception? In such a scenario, Aidan would be forced to drive her from his home and his life. He would lose either way. The truth was the woman had him in knots.

“Pool,” Aaron chanted his new word. “Pool.”

Despite chastising himself for his actions, Aidan could not stifle his chuckle. “No sense announcing my shortcomings to the world,” he said as he clutched the boy to him. Before Miss Purefoy, he would never have accepted Rhodes’s returning Aaron to Lexington Arms. Instead, he would have utilized every legal trickery his purse could employ.

Aidan brought the horse to a halt inside the circle before the stable. Several grooms ran to do his bidding. He handed Aaron to the youngest. “Carry Master Aaron to Miss Chadwick. Bid the lady to tend the child, and tell Mr. Payne to send for the physician. Miss Purefoy has been thrown from her horse.”

“Aye, Sir.” The boy of fourteen rushed away toward the manor’s servant entrance. Over the young groom’s shoulder, Aaron waved farewell with both hands, and despite the chaos, Aidan raised his hand to the child.

“Is the lady badly injured?” Deland asked.

Aidan’s fear for Mary caused him to speak more forcibly than usual. “When I return, I want to know what the bloody hell happened.” Waving off the groom’s explanation before the man began, he said, “I have no time for excuses. I must see to Miss Purefoy’s safety.”

*

Mercy had waited until she had heard his horse’s retreat before she touched her fingers to her lips. The warmth remained. Lord Lexford had kissed her. “Not an actual passionate kiss,” her mind warned her unwise heart. But His Lordship had meant to kiss her. It was not as if he had thought to skim a kiss upon her cheek, and she had turned her head at the last second. “No, his mouth pressed against yours,” she said in awe. “Deliberately and for several seconds.”

Her first kiss: It was a moment that would stay with her always. “I am glad it was he,” Mercy said aloud. Immediately, she wondered what it would be to know such a man intimately. When Geoffrey had meant to hand her off to Sir Lesley Trent, Mercy had attempted to reconcile herself to permitting the baronet his marital liberties, but she had quickly come to the conclusion she could not tolerate Sir Lesley’s touch. The baronet was old enough to be her father. “It would be too reprehensible,” she had declared when Grace had broached the subject several nights before her sister’s disappearance. It was then Mercy had resolved to flee if no other alternative became available.

Slowly pushing herself to her elbows, she took a long lazy look at her surroundings. Her head throbbed, and every muscle in her body ached, but she had survived what might have killed another. “Thank Goodness, I have fallen from a horse previously.”

She glanced at her legs to find her garments about her knees. Even without the gentleman present, Mercy blushed. Lord Lexford had looked upon her as such. The idea of such intimacies brought another rush of color to her cheeks and an unusual warming to her most secret place.

Mercy sat forward to spread her habit over her exposed legs. “My boot?” she said with a frown. She prayed she had not lost the footwear. Mercy had no other boots, and she would not wish to impose further on His Lordship’s kindness. “I had thought to stand,” she admitted as she brushed twigs and dirt from her clothing. “Poor Miss Chadwick,” Mercy groaned. “Serena’s work has gone for naught.”

*

Aidan should have changed horses, but he refused to waste precious time. He held no true idea of the extent of Mary Purefoy’s injuries, and he meant to ferry the woman to Lexington Arms where he might oversee the lady’s care. In the near month of their relationship, Aidan had known contentment for the first time in many years, and he was sore to part with her presence in his life. He had received an initial report from Pennington regarding the lack of information regarding Miss Purefoy’s claim of a familial connection; however, at this point, Aidan had ceased to care. Of course, he remained exceedingly curious, but he was satisfied to allow the possible deception to continue if it meant his heart no longer ached with loneliness. He had decided that even if the lady were not his sister, he would offer Miss Purefoy a place in his home. At least, the thought of such an offer had been his decision when he watched the lady playing with Aaron in the ballroom. He might have other thoughts when he discovered the whole truth. “Accept what is right in your life for now,” he told his all-too-practical mind.

Aidan broke through the wooded area, which separated the parkland from the fields. It did not surprise him to see Miss Purefoy staggering to her feet: the lady was a stubborn one. He slowed the gelding from its mad gallop and enjoyed the view. Miss Purefoy in a dark green riding habit stood framed against the greens and browns of the riverbed. With her loose red-gold locks, the lady resembled a wood sprite come to life. It was a magnificent portrait, one of which he would like to commission in the future.

He had come within the length of the open field when, to his dismay, a shot rang out, and the lady spun to the left before dropping to the ground. Aidan kicked the gelding’s flanks hard, and the horse responded accordingly. As he raced to where Mary crouched, his eyes searched the tree line on the other bank. The river was shallow at this point as it had been several weeks since a substantial rain had fallen, and it was easy to see beyond the path leading to the other side. He kept his concentration on the only area, which would afford the shooter coverage. Finally, he saw it: a flash of red.

Aidan slowed the horse to slide to the ground. Running crouched over, he was at Miss Purefoy’s side, placing himself between her and the shooter. “Are you badly injured?” he asked without looking at her. The single shot volley he carried would be of no use at this distance.

The lady’s sob ripped at Aidan’s heart. “It burns,” she rasped.

Again, without looking at her, Aidan fished his linen from his pocket. He shoved the cloth into her hand. “Here,” he said as gently as he could. They were in an exposed position. No cover was available, and Aidan felt very vulnerable.
Who had shot at Mary
? His mind repeated. It was intentional. Aidan held no doubts of the shot’s purpose. A hunter would not have mistaken the lady for a deer or other animal. Her hair would have told whoever fired the shot that his target was human in form.
Then who
?
Had the lady’s enemies followed her to Cheshire
? It was important for him to discover more of her story before it was too late to protect her. Whether a familial connection proved true or not, Aidan remained confident Miss Purefoy had fled her demons.

The sound of horse’s hoofs had Aidan spinning to the rear. He looked up to see Mr. Hill’s approach.

“What happened?” Hill said as he slowed the animal to a halt.

Aidan finally looked at Miss Purefoy. She was crumpled against him. His jaw was tight, and his tone laced with disbelief. “Someone shot at Mary.”

“Where?” Hill’s eyes scanned the tree line.

Aidan gathered the woman to him. “Other side of the river. A flash of red. Like a man’s waistcoat.”

“I have it,” Hill said as he removed a long rifle from a strap along his saddle. Lucifer had won the gun from an American in a card game in Belgium, and it was one of his friend’s most treasured possessions. “See Miss Purefoy to the house.”

Aidan nodded his agreement. He did not think Mr. Hill would discover anything, but it was best to investigate. Only the one shot meant the attack was likely one of intimidation. In his years with the Realm, he had learned intimidation meant the victim had something the perpetrator wanted. As he pulled Miss Purefoy closer, Aidan wondered what secret she held that would set someone against her. “Find me when you return to the manor.” He watched as Hill edged his horse down the slope, across the narrow stream, and up the incline on the other side before disappearing into the late afternoon shadows.

“Come, my Dear. You have had a difficult day.” He lifted Miss Purefoy into his arms for the second time in their short acquaintance and was again surprised by how light she was. “Allow me to place you on my horse, and then I will see to your injury.” He enjoyed how she clung to him–how she had given herself over to his care. It was important to him that others saw him as competent. He had ridden in Andrew’s shadow for too many years not to question his abilities.

Carrying her to his horse, Aidan lifted her to the saddle. She caught the horn for balance, and he noted her grimace, but Miss Purefoy did not so much as whimper. She was as brave as she was beautiful.

Carefully, Aidan swung up behind her and settled the lady against him. Like a soothing fire on a chilly night, Miss Purefoy’s warmth crept into his body. “Permit me to look at where the bullet struck you.”

Aidan wrapped his hands about her, and Miss Purefoy turned her cheek into his arm. “I fear I am a terrible coward,” she said weakly.

Aidan eased her fingers from where she still held his linen against her skin. Fortunately, the bullet had not penetrated her skin.
Her creamy white skin
, his lust announced. “It does not appear to be serious,” he said encouragingly.

“Shall it leave a scar?” she asked against his bicep.

Aidan chuckled. “It will not blemish your beauty, my Dear.”

He gathered the reins into his right hand, but before Aidan could set the animal in motion, Miss Purefoy looked up into his countenance. Aidan’s breath caught in his throat. They were mere inches apart. Close enough to kiss her again. Kiss her properly. Innocently, she asked, “You think I am beautiful?”

Aidan’s smile turned up his lips’ corners. “You have no need to fish for compliments, my Dear.”

Miss Purefoy blushed, but her gaze held. “No one…” she paused. “No one has ever spoken such a compliment in my presence,” the lady confessed.

“Then the men of your village must be blind or exceptional idiots,” Aidan declared. “For you are one of the most beautiful women of my acquaintance.”

She frowned, and he wanted to smooth away the lines in her forehead. “One among how many?” she asked boldly.

Aidan laughed lightly. Before kicking the horse’s flanks, he kissed her forehead where the lines remained. He gathered her closer to him.

Miss Purefoy snuggled into his body, but she said, “You avoid my question, my Lord.”

Aidan smiled easily. Yes, she was a stubborn one; the lady would not permit him a distraction.

“I mean, being one in a hundred is not so prestigious as being one in a dozen,” she reasoned.

He nuzzled her shoulder and enjoyed the scent of lilacs. The flower’s fragrance had become his favorite over the past month. “Let me see,” he began in a playful tone. “Unfortunately, the most beautiful women of my acquaintance are married to my closest friends.”

“Is that fact why you find them so attractive, my Lord? Must a woman be unattainable before you take notice of her beauty?” she challenged.

Aidan’s muscles tightened about her. Miss Purefoy’s question was one he had never considered. Had he purposely placed barriers in his life to prevent his finding happiness? Did he take some sort of perverted pleasure in punishing himself?

*

Mercy inhaled deeply. She would fill her lungs with the scent of Lord Lexford. He had called her
beautiful,
and Mercy’s heart had melted immediately. Surely, Sir Lesley had declared her
comely
, but never beautiful. Only Lord Lexford had chosen that particular word to describe her. It was a giddy sensation.

Teasingly, she had asked, “Is that fact why you find them so attractive, my Lord? Must a woman be unattainable before you take notice of her beauty?” Mercy assumed His Lordship thought of her as “unattainable,” especially as his sister, but when he stiffened, she tightened her arms about him. “I apologize, my Lord. I meant no aspersion.”

Lord Lexford casually kissed the top of her head before saying softly, “None taken, my Dear.” He hesitated. “I have long thought myself immune to the manipulations of Society mamas. Perhaps I only permitted myself to see a woman’s finer qualities after someone else laid claim to the lady’s affections.”

“If it would not distress you, would you speak to me of your friends and their ladies? I know their names and titles, but I have never known London Society. I am in awe of it.”