Page 11 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
Dominic appreciated the gesture, finally having some space, but he quickly returned to the task at hand. He’d already shaken off his friend’s interruption and forced his mind back to focus, despite the still lingering memory of flushed cheeks and bright hazel eyes.
He wasn’t lying when he told Simon he wasn’t here for a maiden. He was here for business. More specifically, he was here for the hunt.
Dominic’s gaze swept across the forest once more, and there it was. His target. Still waiting.
The sight of the stag seemed almost fated—an odd, fleeting thought, but he dismissed it quickly. He wasn’t the type to depend on fate or any illusion of destiny. He’d always relied on his own skill.
The stag moved again, its muscles rippling as it shifted through the underbrush.
Dominic’s focus sharpened. The chase was on.
He kept his movements deliberate, never rushing. The forest was dense and silent, the perfect cover, but that meant the stag was always just a step ahead. It was a skilled creature, and Dominic admired that.
Finally, the chase brought him to another clearing. This one wasn’t as wide or open as the last. The canopy above let specks of sunlight filter through the branches, creating a patchwork of light on the forest floor.
There it was, the stag, drinking from a stream.
Dominic paused, watching it with a cold, calculated gaze. It was close now—too close to miss. He moved with the precision of a predator, slow and sure. His rifle felt familiar, the weight of it in his hands a comfort. His aim was steady as he raised it, but this time there was no hesitation.
Yes, the creature was magnificent, but it was prey. It was exhausted. The hunt had lasted long enough.
The shot rang out, clean and precise. The stag fell, its graceful descent a stark contrast to the violence of the moment. It landed at the edge of the stream, a quiet end to what had been a fierce chase.
Dominic approached carefully. The animal appeared lifeless, but he never took chances. His boots made no sound on the forest floor as he stalked toward it.
When he was close enough, he placed a hand on the creature’s shoulder. It was still warm, but lifeless.
Dominic closed his eyes briefly, offering a silent thanks. It was a tradition of his, a way to honor the creature he’d bested.
Normally, there would be a sense of satisfaction, a triumph over his prey. Today, there was nothing but the weight of an unsettling thought.
He rose, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, but something felt… off. The satisfaction, the rush he usually felt at the kill, wasn’t there. Instead,herface flashed in his mind again.
Marianne.
She didn’t want him to kill the stag.
Dominic scowled, the frustration aimed more at himself than anything.
What was this? What the hell was wrong with him?
Absurd.
He’d been hunting all his life. A drink would clear his head. That’s all he needed—a damn drink.
Still, the nagging thought of Marianne remained.
She’d thrown herself in front of the stag without a second thought. And somehow, in doing so, she’d managed to make him question everything.
By mid-afternoon, the hunting party had returned to the manor. A handful of gentlemen carried their trophies—hares, pheasants, and partridges, all of which would be cooked alongside the main prize: the stag Dominic had brought down.
The atmosphere was lighthearted and full of joviality, as laughter rang out and congratulations were exchanged. Toasts were raised here and there, the clinking of glasses punctuating the celebratory air. Yet, Dominic couldn’t bring himself to partake in the merriment. His mood remained as grim as when he’d left the woods.
He accepted a glass of brandy, hoping the drink would dull the unease that had gripped him all day. But it did little to quiet the unsettling thoughts that gnawed at him. His gaze kept drifting back to the woods, the memories of the chase—andher—still too vivid in his mind.
For the first time, the satisfaction of the kill seemed hollow.
“Well done, Your Grace!” Lord Grisham’s voice boomed in the parlor. “You felled the creature with a clean shot.Oneshot!”
