Free If He's Noble (Wherlocke Book 7) (Paranormal Historical Romance) by Hannah Howell Page B

heed to me disappearing for a moment. If anyone notices I am not at your side I want them to think it is but a brief visit to a tree that drew me aside. So stay calm and act as if you do no more than take a ride in the country.”
    “You have seen something.” She forced herself not to look around.
    “I think so but cannot see it clearly. Could be no more than a stray cow.”
    She doubted it, but nodded, and kept on riding, studying the many birds that abruptly flew from one tree to another. Primrose sensed more than saw him leave but kept on riding slowly down the road. To calm herself she told herself that it did not need to be another attack from her aunt’s men. Or even highwaymen. It could just be someone who was merely traveling between farms. She prayed that was what it was and began to worry about what Bened was riding into.
    Bened slipped off Mercury’s back, kept his mount’s reins in hand, and crept toward where he had seen the movement as well as the sudden rousing of the birds. That chilly itch on the back of his neck that warned him of an enemy was back. He paused at the top of the rise that bordered the road, hiding himself in the heavy shade of the trees, and watched a man ride quickly along the route to a place where he would be forward of where he and Primrose would ride. Hoping Primrose kept her pace slow as instructed to, Bened followed the man.
    The man dismounted and climbed a tree. Bened cursed. That was going to make it difficult to end the threat the man posed. He pulled his rifle from its place on his saddle and loaded it. It would be a difficult shot but he had taken such ones before. It had served him well in Canada when he had been watching out for the Earl of Collinsmoor’s brother. And he could boast of some skill with it. Shooting a man out of a tree was not easy, however, no matter how skilled one was.
    Taking aim, he sighed. This was not a part of battle he had ever liked. The only thing that would make it easier this time was that the man was planning to shoot an unarmed woman, to shoot Primrose. This was not a fight for freedom or to take or hold on to land, but a killing driven by one woman’s greed. Bened did not think he would suffer the usual touch of sadness he did after such a shot.
    He heard the slow approach of Primrose’s horse and watched through his sights as the man tensed and settled in to make his shot. Anger swelled in Bened. Primrose had done nothing to her aunt, had suffered the woman’s presence in her life because that is what family did. Charity might gall some people but it did not often inspire murder and this is what this was.
    The moment the man adjusted his aim and stilled, Bened fired. He watched the man’s body jerk and tumble from the tree to lie still on the ground. Bened waited for that regret he always felt at taking a life and it did not come. He hoped it was because this man had been willing to murder an innocent woman for a few coins and not because he was growing hardened to such killing.
    He returned his rifle to its sheath on his horse, mounted Mercury, and rejoined Primrose. It touched him when she reached across the space between him and squeezed his hand. The sound of a shot was enough to tell her what had happened and he was glad she did not ask any more about it.
    Primrose felt her heart clench with sorrow and pain. This man had killed for her. A part of her wanted to know how he felt about that but she silenced it. She knew little about men who did battle but she suspected it was not something they easily shrugged aside when that fight caused a death, not even when there was no real choice in the matter. She had caused him to get blood on his hands and she cursed her aunt for driving them to this point.
    It was almost an hour before Bened spoke, surprised at how comfortable the long silence had been. “I think we shall have to spend the night outside,” he said.
    “Sleep on the ground?”
    “Aye. We will never make the next village