Page 37 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl
‘It is nothing.’
She glared at him.
He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. ‘See. Nothing.’
The cut wasn’t deep, but it was still welling with blood.
‘Let me bind it up until we can put some salve on it at the house.’ She picked up the knife he had dropped beside his gloves and, turning away from him, cut off a strip of her petticoat.
Looking rather surprised, he held out his hand for her to bind the strip of material around his finger. ‘That will keep it clean,’ she said.
The dog was sitting watching them, its bright red tongue lolling and its tail wagging.
‘I wonder where he came from?’
Dart regarded the animal for a moment. ‘He looks a bit on the thin side. He might be a stray.’
He did look a bit scruffy.
‘Off you go,’ Dart said to the dog. ‘Go home. And try to stay out of poachers’ snares in future.’
The dog cocked its head, but didn’t move.
Dart looked about him. ‘It will go when its ready, I suppose. The river is this way. Not far now, as we have taken a bit of a shortcut.’
The dog followed them, occasionally leaving their trail to explore on one side or the other, but always returning after a few moments.
‘It looks like you have gained a new friend,’ she said with a chuckle.
Dart glared back at her. ‘Someone in the village will know who owns him.’
He sounded annoyed.
An Englishman who didn’t like dogs. Her father had always said you could judge a man by his dogs, how they responded to him would tell a lot about a man’s character. Did his lack of liking for dogs mean something?
The trees thinned out and changed from beech to the occasional willow and the grass grew longer and the ground became wet and squelchy. And then, before them, there was the river. Not terribly large as rivers went, about ten feet across, and quite sluggish with a low muddy bank and reeds growing along its edge.
Dart checked his gun, then walked quietly towards the bank. ‘I will see if there are ducks on the water. Please remain here,’ he said softly.
She nodded.
The dog disappeared off into the long grass. A moment later a duck broke cover with a whirr of wings and a quack.
‘Sacre bleu,’Dart said softly, lining up. He fired. The duck came down in a flutter of feathers and landed in the river.
‘Devil take it,’ Dart said.
Without warning, the dog leapt from the bank into the water a little further down.
Pamela almost laughed at Dart’s helpless fury at the sight of the dog about to have duck for dinner.
Dart stomped back to her. ‘It is not funny. I didn’t come hunting to feed a dog.’
They watched as the dog snagged his prize and swam strongly for the bank.
Once out of the water it dropped the duck and shook itself from stem to stern. Then, to Pamela’s astonishment, it retrieved its prize, brought it to Damian and dropped it at his feet with a big doggy grin.
Dog and man regarded each other for a moment. ‘Well, that is a surprise.’ He patted the dog, picked up the duck and tied it to the lanyard at his belt.
