Page 61 of All Saints: Pledge

“It would take you about seven hours to walk the length of the estate. But yes, there are some lovely woodlands and a pond about three kilometers that way if you insist on your activities.” He points back past the main house.

Three kilometers is a mile, right? “Yes, well, that seems…excessive. Perhaps I’ll ask for the golf cart escort for that one.” Goddamn it.

He chuckles and bows, holding out his hand as an “after you” gesture. I have no choice but to step into the shade of the barn and start my way back through. Now, not only do I have to walk the entire length of the driveway back up, but I have to do it with Kendall’s father.

I turn and hazard a look over my shoulder. Augustine’s eyes travel up and down my back in an appraising way. It gives me the creeps, to be honest. I’ve never felt less like a person, and more like a horse being sold at market. I have a moment of pity for all these racehorses—only valuable for their promise, and then if they run well enough, their genetic material. I don’t think many of these owners love the horses just as the creatures they are. I’m not loving that I one hundred percent understand that right at this moment. I trip slightly as I try to increase my pace to put space between us.

“These cobbles are tricky,” Augustine says in a slight purr, holding out his arm again. “Would you like assistance?”

Do I act rude and refuse, or do I take it and have totouchKendall’s father for the entire walk to the house? My heart stutters in my chest as a muscular arm—notone belonging to Kendall’s father—slides around my shoulder in a friendly, yet extremely secure way. I’m pulled against a muscular chest that smells pleasantly of leather, dust and horse hay. “Ah, there you are Helena. So glad you got my invitation.”

28

Ilook up in to the eyes of a dark-haired angel. At least that’s what my brain says as my eyes stutter from his dark hair to his lovely eyes and down to the hand around my shoulder. Nope, not an angel. He’s the human with the voice of an angel from my choir. Teague. I blink several times.

The arm around my shoulders gives a warning squeeze and I nod slowly, the light dawning. “Ah, yes. It was so good of you to invite me.” I try to keep the question out of my voice, and then turn to look at Augustine. “I was invited.”

Augustine’s face has frozen, his eyes flicking from Teague’s face to mine, to the arm around my shoulder.

“Here, step back here in the aisle to catch your balance.” He drops his arm from around my shoulder as I step back.

“Ah, yes, this is much better, thank you.” And it is. I love being further away from Augustine.

“Will you be joining us on our walk up to the main house, then?” Augustine sounds supremely displeased at this turn of events, and I have the evil impulse to fist pump.

“I’m afraid not,” Teague says in his lilting Irish brogue. “I invited Helena down here for business and not for pleasure.”

The way he says the last word…it strums through me like a guitar chord. I get the impression he’s needling Augustine on purpose.

It’s a direct hit. “I did not authorize?—”

“Relax, Augustine.”

I raise my eyebrows at Teague’s use of Kendall’s father’s first name. He uses it as an equal andthatis fascinating. “Helena and I are in choir together. We have a concert next week, and we’re going to practice our parts. This is far enough away not to bother the other guests.”

I snap my eyes to Augustine’s face and nod fervently.

“I thought Helena said she needs to meet with Clara?”

Shit.“I did. I do. I mean, I still will. I thought Teague wasn’t here—like he forgot—so I was making new plans.”

Again his eyes dart from me to Teague. I’m not sure exactlywhathe thinks leaving me alone with Teague is going to do. It’shisson that has the habit of accosting me in public. “All our candidates are supposed to be chaperoned.”

Chaperoned? Here we are again with the antiquated customs.

“For safety,” he says, noticing my face. I’m not good at hiding my thoughts, apparently.

“Ah. Well, you can see she’s perfectly safe with me,” Teague says. “I’ll walk her back up.” He turns to me, and his face is frank and business-like. “I assume you warmed up? I thought we’d start with Lux Arumque.” He holds up a black choir folder.

This seems to sell it. Augustine turns on his heel and walks away without a backward glance.

“I thought we’d go over the Coda,” Teague says to me, as we watch him go. Then motions for me to follow him back into the barn.

“I…thank you?” I say as we step back into the shadows. I’m not sure how much he senses he saved me from a supremely uncomfortable situation.

“Lecherous old git,” Teague says, eyeing the retreating form. “Might as well come in and stay for a bit. I think he’ll notice if we don’t follow through.”

“I…okay.” It doesn’t look like I have much choice. I follow Teague under a stone arch on the opposite side of the barn from the stalls, and through a wooden door I assume is the feed room.

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