Chapter 8
Eight
C edric moved silently through the snow-covered forest, his boots crunching softly against the partially frozen ground. The bow slung over his shoulder and the quiver at his side provided the only company he needed.
Here, in the quiet expanse of trees and unbroken snow, the world seemed to align. The cold air burned in his lungs, the distant calls of birds punctuating the silence. The faint sunlight filtered through the bare branches, melting the edges of the snow but leaving the paths still treacherous for travel.
He let out a slow breath, pulling the bow off his shoulder and running his gloved fingers along its polished wood. This was exactly what he needed. Solitude. The castle and all its distractions were far behind him—her voice, her laughter, the faint floral scent that lingered in every hallway.
Cedric scowled at the thought. He was here to escape her, not to dwell on the conversation from the previous night.
He paused, nocking an arrow, his eyes scanning the landscape for movement. The memory of her teasing smile intruded unbidden, making him stiffen. Her wit had been sharper than he’d expected, her intelligence surprising. And the way she had quoted that line from The Philosophy of Nations …
Blast it.
Cedric shook his head, cursing himself under his breath. He was letting her get under his skin and disrupt his peace without even being present.
Just as he exhaled to refocus, a voice rang out, clear and melodic despite its frustration. “Duke, wait! I cannot run in these skirts!”
Cedric froze, his jaw tightening as he muttered, “Heavens preserve me.”
Lowering the bow, he turned, his prayer for patience already proving futile.
Through the trees, he spotted her—a flash of vivid red against the white and brown of the forest.
Audrey stumbled through the snow, lifting her skirts with one hand and clutching the flimsy gray cloak around her shoulders with the other. The shoes she was wearing were impractical, sinking with every step, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold and exertion.
“What in God’s name are you doing here?” Cedric called, striding toward her.
She stopped and straightened, catching her breath. “I was admiring the orangery,” she said lightly, brushing snow from her skirts, “when I saw you heading toward the woods. I couldn’t resist. I’ve heard so much about your adventures.”
He raised an eyebrow, his irritation rising. “Hunting trips are included in the ‘do not disrupt my peace’ rule.”
“Ah, but I am not disrupting anything,” she replied, tilting her head with an infuriating smile. “I am merely curious. Besides, you promised to give me an answer today.”
“I promised no such thing,” he said sharply.
She pursed her lips, undeterred. “You gave me your word, Duke, and your reputation as a man of honor precedes you.”
Cedric stared at her, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. She was the most aggravating creature he had ever encountered, yet the sight of her standing there, so delicate and out of place, stirred something he could not name.
Her vivid red dress clung to her figure, her dark hair catching the faint sunlight, and for a moment, he was tempted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to the castle without another word.
“Go back,” he ordered, his voice firm. “You’ll only freeze out here.”
“I don’t know the way,” she countered with a shrug, “and I’d likely get lost. But you needn’t worry. I’ll go with you—quietly, even.”
He exhaled sharply, knowing he was losing the battle. “I’ll take you back.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of disrupting your activity,” she said with mock innocence. “I could come along. I could carry whatever you catch!”
Cedric barked out a laugh, his breath fogging in the cold air. “Be careful, Duchess, or you may become the quarry.”
Her eyes sparkled as she raised an eyebrow. “Are you the hunter, then?”
He stepped closer, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “What do you think?”
“I think,” she replied, her tone light but teasing, “that you’re terrifying, but not that terrifying.”
Her boldness was both maddening and strangely endearing.
He shook his head, pulling off his greatcoat as she shivered visibly.
Silly, little thing!
“You’ll catch your death,” he muttered, draping the heavy coat around her shoulders.
She looked up at him, startled but grateful. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, we’re going back.” His tone brooked no argument.
“Very well,” she relented, surprising him. But as they began walking back, her curiosity seemed uncontainable. “Why do you prefer the bow and arrow to pistols?” she asked.
“Pistols are loud,” he replied curtly. “The bow requires precision and patience. It’s quieter, more controlled.”
“What’s the most dangerous thing you’ve ever caught?”
He glanced at her, reluctant to answer, but her earnest expression made him relent. “An elk.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly? And what did you do with it?”
“I let it go,” he said simply.
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I suppose I should have expected that.”
Cedric adjusted the bow in his hands, glancing at the Duchess as she stood before him, her hands resting on her hips.
“A bow requires precision,” he began, his voice calm, though his heartbeat was far from steady. “It’s not about strength, but control. Each movement must be deliberate.”
Audrey tilted her head, her chestnut-brown curls brushing her shoulder as she gave him her full attention. “Deliberate,” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
“You have to breathe with the arrow, feel its path before you loose it,” Cedric explained, stepping closer to demonstrate. He pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocked it, drawing back the string with practiced ease. “See? It’s about understanding the tension and letting it work for you, not against you.”
She nodded, her eyes darting between the bow and his hands. “And the aim? How do you ensure it’s precise?”
Cedric smirked. “That’s the challenge. You trust your instincts, but you temper them with practice.” He lowered the bow and handed it to her. “Here. Try.”
Audrey hesitated, the bow feeling awkward in her hands. “You make it look far easier than it is.”
“That’s because I’ve been doing this for years,” he said, his tone teasing. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”
She lifted the bow, her fingers fumbling slightly as she tried to mimic his earlier stance.
Cedric sighed, stepping behind her. “You’ll need to adjust your posture,” he said, his voice low.
His hands lightly touched her elbows, guiding her arms into the correct position. The faint scent of roses drifted toward him, soft and warm, filling his senses.
His chest tightened as the scent lingered, the warmth of her body against his briefly disarming him.
Focus, Hall .
“Keep your shoulders relaxed,” he murmured, his breath fanning her ear. “If you’re tense, your aim will suffer.”
Audrey’s voice wavered as she replied, “I-I think I’ve got it.”
He stepped back, watching as she pulled the string and loosed the arrow. It shot wide, missing the rabbit entirely and hitting a nearby tree. Cedric laughed, the sound breaking through the quiet of the forest.
Audrey huffed, lowering the bow with an indignant look. “It’s my stays,” she declared, lifting her chin. “They’re far too tight.”
Cedric chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, yes. Blame your stays. Certainly not a lack of experience.”
She glared at him but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “If you had to endure such a contraption, I’m certain your aim would suffer too.”
He smirked, his gaze lingering on her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. She was so unlike the poised and proper duchess he had imagined. This version of her was adventurous, curious, and captivating in ways he had never anticipated. And it terrified him.
A rustling sound drew his attention, and another rabbit hopped into view. Cedric’s instincts took over. He plucked the bow from her hands and nocked an arrow in one swift motion, loosing it with precision. The rabbit fell instantly.
Audrey darted ahead, her skirts swishing as she crouched down to examine their catch. She looked up, her expression bright. “You shot it squarely in the eye!”
Cedric joined her. “The fastest way to bring it down.”
She picked up the rabbit, holding it with a surprisingly steady hand. “And you were worried about my dress. It’s red. No one will notice.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Point taken, Duchess. Point taken.”
Cedric shot three more rabbits as they made their way back to the castle, Audrey carrying them in the folds of her cloak without complaint.
As they neared the castle gates, she glanced at him and asked, “Are you cold?”
His eyebrow rose. “Now you ask if I’m cold? After you’ve stolen my coat?”
She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “I didn’t steal it! You offered it.”
Cedric let out a mock sigh. “You see, princess, you have this habit of coming into my life and taking things.”
Audrey turned to him, her expression curious. “And what, pray tell, have I taken?”
His mind wandered briefly to Cecilia’s ruby necklace, its absence gnawing at him. The thought darkened his mood, and he quickened his pace.
“Never mind,” he muttered.
She hurried to keep up, her voice light but insistent. “No, truly. What have I taken?”
He shook his head, not meeting her gaze. “Forget I said anything.”
The rest of the walk was silent, though Audrey seemed undeterred, glancing at him occasionally as if waiting for him to elaborate. When they reached the castle, Cedric handed the rabbits to Potts with a brusque word of thanks. Without another glance at Audrey, he turned and strode toward his chambers.
His chest ached as he climbed up the stairs, the scent of roses still lingering in his nostrils. He shouldn’t have left her like that, but he needed the distance. She was already far too close, already breaking the walls he had so carefully built.
Cedric entered his chambers and shut the door firmly behind him, leaning against it as he exhaled.
She needs to stay away . And if intimidation is the only way to ensure that, then so be it.