Page 48 of Her Magnificent Mistake
“I was just thinking.”
She nudged her horse closer. “About us?”
He sighed, admitting the truth, and reached across the intervening space to snag her hand. “Aye. And about Bull.”
“Bull…” Something in her gaze shuttered, and Marcia looked away. “Bull would have been delighted for us, Hawk. I never told him about us, but I wish I had. I wishyouhad told me your concerns.”
Would have been delighted. The fluffy feeling in Hawk’s chest cooled a little.Would have been. Notwill be.
He squeezed her fingers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, speaking the truth. “God Almighty, I’m sorry. I thought I could go off and live my life, leaving ye to get on with yers. I thought ye’d find happiness.”
She glanced over at him, her expression curiously neutral. “But you have had your own concerns these years. Allison and your family and Tostinham.”
“Aye,” he sighed again, then straightened in the saddle and reluctantly dropped her hand. “And I cannae abandon them too frequently, even for an afternoon of decadent pleasure.”
Her lips curled wickedly, and she offered a wink. “When it comes to you, I am never certain if you are referring to the pleasure of rambling through the beauty of nature, or what we did in your grandfather’s cottage.”
A surprised laugh burst from him, and he felt his chest loosening again. “Both. Yedoknow me well, Marsh.”
That’s what Bull sometimes called her. What Hawk used to call her when he’d still counted Bull as his best friend and not a man he’d betrayed by besmirching his friend’s younger sister.
And the flicker of sadness in her eyes told Hawk that she knew it as well.
But…
Could there be a possibility of a future now? Perhaps, if he were to explain to Bull, beg the man’s forgiveness? If Bull had once suggested Hawk for his sister, could he give his blessing for their union now?
Despite the recent satiation, Hawk’s stomach was a tight knot of confusion and hope. She’d said she loved him, said shecouldhave married him all those years ago, said Bullwouldhave been happy for them…but didn’t say anything aboutnow.
He wanted to ask her to be his. Be his wife, his baroness. Be at his side the way he’d always dreamed.
But was that what she wanted?
Sighing a third time, Hawk led her toward the stables of Tostinham, steeling himself to return to reality.
To his surprise, they were approaching the house—Marcia’s hand on his arm, both of them curiously silent—when he recognize the figure hurrying toward them. “Artrip?”
The butler slid to a stop before them, close enough that Hawk had to resist the urge to pull Marcia back protectively. Artrip’s normally pin-neat combover was in disarray, his tie was crooked, and his eyes were frantic.
“Thereyou are, my lord,” the older man blurted, his breaths coming in great gasps. “Where have you been? No, do not answer, but it’s about time you arrived so you can tell me—tell us—what in heaven’s name to do with him!”
In all of his years, Hawk had never seen Artrip in such disorder. Was he frantic about the impropriety of Hawk being gone with an unmarried lass all afternoon? Or was that just Hawk’s guilty conscious?
Wait. Him?
Frowning, Hawk dropped Marcia’s hand to comfort the butler. “I’m here, auld friend.” He patted Artrip’s shoulder gently. “What’s amiss? How can I help?”
“Herbrother!” Artrip’s voice was pitched too-high as he swung toward Marcia. “He has—his head injury is most?—”
“Rupert is hurt?” Marcia blurted, jerking forward. “What happened? Where is he?”
The butler half-turned toward the house. “I placed him in the blue guest suite with your maid, Smythe-Smith—no, Smith-Smythe-Smith?” He shook his head, his breaths still coming in great heaves. “But not Lord Rupert, my lady—rather, your other brother.”
Marcia’s eyes went round, and Hawk whispered, “Bull.”
Oh Fook
Artrip nodded, the movement sending his too-long combover bouncing atop his head. “Mister Lindsay, yes. He had…uh.” Something flashed in Artrip’s eyes and he glanced back toward the house. “He had a fall, his head has been hurt. He was found near the trail to the Glen.”
