Chapter Four
Cool air whistled past Seth’s ears and burned through his nostrils as he pushed his chestnut thoroughbred Sabre into a full sprint.
The dawn stretched across the horizon like a cat easing herself into the day.
He breathed in the musk of hay and leather as his lungs expanded to full capacity, heart hammering against bone in the space between breaths.
The morning dew streaked gashes across the legs of his trousers as he flew through endless grassy fields.
“Why else have a country-wide contest?” Cooper tipped back the remaining drops of his second brandy.
“If it was a hunting rifle, he would commission it himself. For a lot less than ten thousand pounds! Look at what is happening right now! You can’t mean to tell me that you of all people don’t see it. ”
Cooper’s instincts had been on the mark!
Mr. Edgars may have been searching for a gemstone encrusted rifle with gold filigree, but Lord Bolderwood, the Secretary at War, had been interested in their rifle.
And, dare he say it—impressed. While the Duke’s high society theater distracted the ton, Cooper had discerned the true reason behind the contest.
Britain was at war.
And so, they designed a military grade rifle fit for mass production.
“Blood will be on our hands.”
They had Lord Bolderwood right where they wanted him, and now Cooper had second thoughts? He could have voiced his moral qualms long before they dumped their time, energy, and savings into the project. The lives they both wanted were within reach, and he would hold back at the finish line?
Seth gripped the reins, slowed Sabre to a trot, and turned the horse toward Cooper House. Relaxing his grip, he allowed Sabre to chart the familiar course back home. He wiped sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of dirt across his forehead.
Blood was already on Seth’s hands. It ran deeper than a lifetime of good deeds could wash clean.
Cooper didn’t know what it was like to be on the front lines, drenched in fear, surrounded by soldiers, most of them younger than Caroline.
Seth remembered every fallen soldier’s name, their screams echoing forever in his ears.
How many times had he bemoaned the quality of standard issue equipment?
Faulty weaponry took more lives than enemy forces.
If he was going to do this, he owed it to those men to put a gun in their hands designed by one of their own.
Someone who understood the conditions they faced in battle.
We’ll save so many lives.
With Cooper House in sight, Seth took control of the reins once more and eased his horse onto a travel-worn path to the stables.
Rusted nails and a wish held together the sun-stripped wooden boards of the old barn.
Functional for its purpose, and temporary.
The animals would be returning to the newer barn closer to the house upon the completion of their master’s project.
Or perhaps not, Seth thought. Either way, I won’t be around to know.
Clopping hooves kicked up a fine layer of dust beneath him, and he closed his eyes against it, blinking hard.
He opened his eyes again to a pleasant, and not surprising, sight.
At the barn doors, a woman stood as stiff-backed as a Greek statue amidst the muck.
A grey dress and white bonnet covered her so completely that the only part of her he could see was her neck and the line of her graceful chin.
She noticed his approach, straightened her spine, raised her head, and met his eyes.
Cassandra.
Cursed with memory, Seth learned the devil was in the finer details, and he had memorized all of hers.
She had three freckles in a perfect triangle on her left wrist. Roasted carrots were her favorite.
She didn’t care for sweet treats, but enjoyed baking them.
She was an early riser. Diligent, intelligent, altogether too serious.
Cooper adored her and guarded her fiercely, like a fluffy sheepdog defending its flock.
In turn, Cassandra mothered him and Caroline with the stern countenance of a clucking hen.
She was indispensable to Cooper House. For months, she managed the ledgers, directed the staff, and ensured that estate needs wouldn’t interfere with her brother’s work unless absolutely necessary.
She was tough, his little bird.
But during the midnight hours, when his own sleep was hard fought, he would look out of his window and he would find her in the garden. Bathed in moonlight, wrapped in a blanket, nestled in on her wrought-iron perch. From the shadows, he had greedily stolen glimpses of the real Cassandra.
He had never seen anything more beautiful.
He knew the color of her eyes as they glowed in flickering candlelight.
Memorized the thickness of her hair, and that when it spilled out of its pins—which it often did—a long curly lock wandered down the column of her throat.
He could calculate the slope precisely. He knew the pattern to her breathing, and the length of her fingers as she turned the pages of a book.
Her eyes shifted to his when she felt his gaze on her, a soft smile shaded by a blush across her cheekbones, and the indescribable warmth that flooded him in the exact moment that he fell in love with her months ago.
It had been enough for him to store these memories away, to hoard them for a day when she would no longer be accessible to him.
When she was married to a rich gentleman that wasn’t him, raising children that weren’t his.
Years from now, he would pull from these memories and lay them bare in the dead of night, lined up with the rest of his failings.
It would have been enough.
Now, he knew how it felt to have those amber eyes fluttering close to his, to have her hair under his nose, and that same blush on his skin. It wasn’t enough. Not in the slightest. He wanted nothing more than he wanted her, but no amount of wanting could change one singularly painful fact.
He couldn’t have her.
No matter how high he climbed, she would always be out of reach.
She was looking to marry a wealthy peer.
He thought back to the letter hidden away in his room.
Perhaps she had found one. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to not open the letter and read it.
It wasn’t sealed! She wouldn’t have known.
But he would have known, and he would never forget it.
Seth fully intended to give the letter to her after breakfast. Now that she was here, feathers fluffed out, facing him down, a question rose to his mind, one that always seemed to get him into trouble.
What if?
Seth dismounted and handed the reins to James, then gave Sabre a long rub on his nose.
Ignoring Cassandra, he strode to a water trough near the barn doors.
Using both hands, he scooped a generous amount of water over his face before trailing his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.
He dried his face using the collar of his shirt and shook his head, spraying droplets of water about his shoulders.
Cassandra’s nose scrunched in distaste. She had not moved from her position at the door of the barn. Her eyes kept darting to the hems of her dress and the piles of manure around her with a grimace. Seth couldn’t help but smile.
Adorable.
“Good morning to you, Miss Cooper. Are you off for a ride?” His gaze traveled from her feet to her eyes. “You’re hardly dressed for it, but that doesn’t seem to bother you as of late.”
She flushed a lovely shade of crimson.
“Please return that parchment to me.”
Wasting no time, he could see.
“Not even a good morning?” He chuckled. “You are not starting negotiations off on the right foot at all.”
“Good morning, Mr. Reeves.” She gave a sarcastic curtsy before standing and crossing her arms over her chest once more. “This is not a negotiation. You’ve had your fun, now please give it back.”
“After all of the effort that I went through to acquire it?” Seth tsked. “No, I do believe I’ll hold onto it.”
“Have you read it?” She gripped her arms tighter.
“Should I?” He hummed. “What would I find? Feminine gossip? No, you don’t seem the type. A love letter, perhaps?”
Cassandra’s eyes darted away from his to the ground and said nothing. His throat went dry. A love letter, but to whom? A vision of Cassandra pouring her heart onto parchment for another man…. Maybe I should read it, he thought darkly.
It was the same argument he had been having with himself since he placed it in his pocket.
What business was it of his? He could return the letter and be done with it.
Still, he couldn’t bring himself to back away.
Not when he had her chasing him. He would give it back.
Surely he would. But, in the meantime, Cassandra was wrong about one thing. His fun hadn’t even started.
But it was about to.
“As luck would have it, I am on my way into town. I could drop the letter off at the post.” He braided his fingers behind his neck, peering down at her. “I would need an address, of course.”
And a name.
“I can’t believe that I need to have a conversation like this. A gentleman would return it without being asked,” Cassandra hissed in a scolding tone that she often used on Caroline. It was just as ineffective on him.
“Come now, Miss Cooper. You should know by now that I’m not bound by a gentleman’s constraints,” Seth took a discreet look around, “but I do consider myself to be a reasonable man.” Sure that they were alone, he stepped closer.
Whispering in her ear, he offered, “I’m willing to make an exchange, if you have something of equal value. ”
Cassandra’s hands tightened into fists at her side. Her chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths. She raised her chin high in the air. Sunlight escaped past her bonnet to reveal that her lips formed in a flat-line, eyes-aflame with that same spark from the day before, and Seth relished in it.
“What do you want?”
“Now that is how you start negotiations, Miss Cooper.” He leaned over her, backing her against the wall of the barn, shading her from the morning sun. “I’ve already told you. A hero’s reward.”
“I am not going to kiss you.” Cassandra made a face, sidestepped him, and put a pace of distance between them. “You reek.”
He laughed loudly and took a step away from her.
“What do you want?” she asked again through gritted teeth.
Seth considered the question.
What did he want?
His time with her was drawing to a close.
It wouldn’t matter if they won or lost the competition.
At the end of his obligation to Cooper, he would move out of Cooper House, and if she had it her way, she would be married.
He may never see her again, and selfish as he was, all he wanted was more of her time.
Even if he had to steal it away, it would be worth it.
It might even be enough.
“There is more than one way to reward a hero. I’m feeling generous this morning, so how about this? I’ll give you until the end of the Earl’s hunting party to think of a trade of equal value, to my determination, or I’ll read your letter to Caroline.”
“How is that generous?” Her voice was shrill, and she gaped at him.
“Seven days is plenty of time, and you have a week to think on it before then. Most would consider that generous. Unless you would prefer a shorter deadline?” He raised a brow. “You always did seem like someone who appreciated a challenge. Is five days better? Three?”
“I have nothing to give you!”
“We’ve already established that isn’t true.” He opened his arms to her. “Shall we do things my way, after all?”
“You’re disgusting.” She turned her back to him. “To your determination. What does that mean?”
“When you come up with a suitable alternative, I will accept it and return the letter at once.”
“How can I expect you to be fair?”
“You’ll have to trust me.”
She looked over her shoulder and shot him a dubious expression. “You aren’t acting trustworthy.”
Seth shrugged.
“If I meet your terms, before the end of the hunting party, you’ll give it back?”
“I give you my word.”
After a beat of silence, her shoulders slumped, and she turned to face him. A burst of triumph ran through him.
“Fine. It’s not as though I have another option.”
Seth extended his hand.
“Do we have a deal?”
She slid her palm into his, clasped his fingers with her own, and gave a firm shake.
“Deal.”