Chapter 4 #2
But why? He’d lain with other women, of course he had. What was it about Daphne that wormed its way under his skin? Why did she haunt his thoughts? How could he get rid of her ghost?
Do I want to?
He deliberately didn’t answer that question.
And then there’s the question of the vow. Me vow. I swore I’d never marry.
But then what am I going to do about Daphne and Willow?
A cold feeling swept over him. Tightening his jaw, Hunter urged his horse forward, trotting past the carriage. The curtains were closed, probably to keep heat inside, but he noticed the fabric twitching as he rode by.
“We’re making good time,” he remarked to the driver.
The driver, a thin, shrewd-eyed old man who’d served Laird MacCrimmon since long before Hunter held the title, nodded.
“Aye, and the weather doesnae look too bad. Rain, of course, but nothing torrential. No storms. As we get to higher ground, there’ll be less chance of flooding, too.
We should make it home safe, me Laird. Us and our guests. ”
The last sentence seemed a little pointed.
Hunter glanced at him, lifting an eyebrow. “That’s good to hear, John.”
John nodded, his face carefully neutral.
Hunter watched him carefully for a moment, learning nothing.
Suddenly, there was a rustling inside the carriage. The curtain slid back, and Daphne poked her head out of the window.
“Excuse me,” she called. “Hunter?”
Hunter nodded at John, who slowed the carriage to a halt.
“Aye?” he murmured, eyeing her. “What do ye need?”
She drew her lower lip between her teeth. “We… We may need to stop for a while.”
He frowned. “Here? We’re in the middle of the forest. A few more miles, and we should find an inn.”
“It’s nae for me,” she explained. “It’s for—”
On cue, Willow stuck her head out of the window beside her mother and beamed up at him. “I’m tired of sitting still!” she yelped. “I want to run around. Just for a little while. Please, Mama, please!”
“It’s Laird MacCrimmon ye must convince,” Daphne murmured, her eyes fixed on him.
Nae Hunter, he thought faintly. She’s trying to put distance between us.
It had occurred to him before that maybe she hadn’t dreamt of him the way he’d dreamed of her.
After all, after their encounter, he’d gone on his way, his life unchanged.
She’d fled the country, with a baby as a result of their time together.
Unwed mothers weren’t treated well, especially not in England, to say nothing of their lives being doubly hard.
Did she resent him? Maybe.
“I want to look in the forest,” Willow added, breaking into his thoughts.
Daphne bit her lip. “She needs a wee bit of privacy, too.”
Ah, so Willow needed to answer a call of nature.
“We’ll stop here, then,” he decided, nodding. “Daenae go far. I assume ye will take her?”
“Of course,” Daphne responded, sounding insulted. “Ye think I’d let me own daughter wander off into the woods alone? I think nae.”
Should he apologize?
Before Hunter could decide, Daphne pushed open the door and clambered out, stretching stiff legs. Turning back to the carriage, she held up her arms, and Willow jumped easily into them.
Chuckling, Daphne spun her around, pressing a kiss to her temple. Willow laughed gleefully, winding her arms around her mother’s neck.
“Can we pick flowers, Ma?”
“Maybe if we daenae have to go out of our way to get them. We daenae want to keep the others waiting, do we?”
She gently set Willow down on her feet, and the two went off hand in hand into the forest.
“Remember what I said. Daenae go far,” Hunter called after them.
He found himself watching them disappear into the undergrowth, duck under branches, and step carefully over raised roots and around dense bushes. Willow clung to her mother’s hand, her chatter fading gradually into nothing.
A family.
A weight settled over his chest, pressing down. Swallowing, he rubbed a fist against the center of his chest and slid down from the saddle.
“Now’s the time to stretch yer legs, if ye need to do so,” he called.
“No fear,” Lady Pilbury chuckled from inside the carriage. “Once I get out of this little box, I will never get back in.”
“Amen to that,” Helena added, and the two women fell back to comfortable gossip and chatter.
The driver wandered off into the trees on the other side of the path, presumably to answer a call of nature himself.
That left Hunter standing alone on the path. His legs ached, and the small of his back began to throb. Glancing up, he caught his horse’s eye, sad and damp.
“Sorry, lass,” he sighed, rubbing her nose. “Long journey home for us. But once we’re there, ye will be safe back in yer stall. Nice and warm, with plenty of oats, hay, and apples.”
At the word apples, her favorite treat, the horse’s ears flicked forward hopefully.
“I shouldnae have said it,” Hunter groaned. “That was me mistake. Nae long now, though. A few days of discomfort at most, and then we’re home. I’ll be glad to get out of this English forest; I can tell ye that. In fact, I—”
A female cry broke the silence. It came from the direction Daphne and Willow had gone, echoing through the trees loud enough to make the birds flutter up from the branches.
At once, every nerve in Hunter’s body bristled, trilling out a warning. He leaped to the edge of the path, trying to squint into the green gloom within. The yelp could mean a broken ankle, or a spider falling unexpectedly on a person’s hand.
It could also mean something much, much worse.
“Daphne?” he shouted urgently. “Willow?”
Worried murmurs came from inside the carriage, and the springs creaked as if someone was moving inside.
“Stay in there,” he commanded. “Mother, I mean it! Close the door.”
Where is John?
Still pissing, probably.
Suddenly, Daphne’s voice echoed out of the undergrowth.
“Willow!” she cried, panic seeping into her voice. “Willow, nay!”