Page 8 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
Right now, she had to find her sister.
“Where are you, foolish child?” she muttered, her voice low and tight, every syllable laced with a frustration she barely contained.
She ran further into the woods. Somehow, she’d either wandered off course, or the forest had conspired to hold its breath.
There was no birdsong, no rustling of creatures, no thundering hooves or the distant bellow of male laughter. All the sounds she should have heard were gone.
Her chest ached. She stopped to listen, swallowing against a throat grown tight with anxiety. She was exhausted, not just from the exertion but from everything this cursed day had thrown at her.
She’d known the stag hunt was a mistake, but she hadn’t imagined Victoria would become part of its chaos. She should have. The girl was always chasing trouble. And yet Marianne had only worried for Elizabeth this morning.
Then, a twig snapped to her right.
She spun toward the sound, breath caught. But it was only a deer startled by her presence. It darted deeper into the underbrush, its white tail flashing briefly between the trees.
She hesitated, then followed. She wasn’t sure why. Instinct prickled along her spine, a warning she could neither ignore nor explain.
And then, quite suddenly, the woods opened up.
A clearing.
The quiet deepened there. It wasn’t just muffled—it was unnatural. Even her breath seemed hesitant to disturb the hush. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, loud against the stillness.
Movement caught her eye.
There, just ahead, stood a man—tall, broad-shouldered, and utterly composed. His posture was precise, his stance balanced, the rifle in his hands steady and sure. He looked as though he’d been born with it.
This was no idle sportsman. This man knew what it meant to wield a weapon. He knew what it meant to wield power.
Marianne followed the line of his aim. A stag.
It stood at the edge of the clearing, its antlers spread like a crown, its form noble and unmoving. Its wide, unblinking eyes met hers for one brief instant.
Did it know? Could it sense its place as prey?
The man didn’t move much, but she saw his fingers, how they curled just slightly around the trigger. He was ready.
Marianne didn’t think. There was no time for hesitation or calculation, no time to weigh the consequences. Her body acted before her mind could catch up.
She ran.
“Stop!” she shouted, throwing herself between the rifle and the stag, her arms flung wide, her skirts tangling about her legs as she flung her entire self into the line of fire.
Chapter Four
“Stop!”
Dominic’s eyes were locked onto the stag. Did he expect to be in this situation as soon as he heard of the hunt? Perhaps. Why join at all if there was no hope of winning?
Then, here he was. So close. His finger hovered over the trigger. He had learned how to steady his breathing, and it was working to his advantage.
The creature had stopped in a clearing. It somehow knew that something was afoot, but not so much that it would escape. It was a perfect shot, one that he would not miss.
Suddenly, a blur of a figure burst into the clearing with its arms outstretched. A woman.
With skirts billowing and arms frantically moving up and down, she threw herself in front of his target.
His heart was thundering, but he managed to turn the rifle upward, the shot firing into the sky. It was enough to make the stag bolt.
