Beatrice (3 page)

Of
course everyone in the area had heard of the events that had
surrounded the old Tipton Hollow Psychic Circle. How would in
anyone not given that two members of the circle had been murdered?
People were still talking about it to this day and, he rather
suspected, would be for years to come. He was just glad that
Beatrice was still alive. He had been away when the murders had
taken place, but would never forget the moment when he had heard
about what had happened. The thought that Beatrice could have ended
up one of the murder’s victims had haunted him to the point that he
had hurried to church the following Sunday, just to see for himself
that she really was alright.

As
though she had been sent by the Gods, Beatrice suddenly appeared in
the lane before him. Unfortunately, it was evident that she had
been hurt since she had left the churchyard. He scowled and watched
the half-walk, half-stumble of her gait. He stood up in his
stirrups and glanced around the empty fields on either side of the
lane. As far as he could tell, they were the only people for miles
around. What on earth could have gone wrong in the last few
minutes?

“Beatrice? What’s happened?”

Everything within her froze at the sound of his voice. Even
though she hadn’t turned around, she knew exactly who it was
because she would recognise that voice anywhere. Those rich, husky
tones were as familiar to her as her own voice. Her heart began to
thump heavily in her chest and she looked around desperately to try
to find a way out of having to talk to him, but there was nowhere
to turn to. She had no choice but to reluctantly face
him.

Just a
few moments ago she had wondered if her day could get any worse;
now she knew.

“I am
fine thank you, Mr Addison, please don’t let me keep you,” she
replied carefully, and waited for him to pass.

If the scowl on his face is anything to go by, he clearly
wants to be anywhere but here too
, she
thought morosely. Not that she could blame him. She was cold, wet,
miserable, and wished she had not left the house at all that
morning. Right now she would rather be anywhere but stuck by the
side of the road in the pouring rain.

To her
consternation, he didn’t move. What was he waiting for? Why wasn’t
he going home to get out of this rain?

Ben
briefly contemplated what to do. He could hardly call the lady a
liar to her face, but he had seen her discomfort with his own eyes;
she was most definitely not alright. She was in considerable pain.
Did she hate him so much that she would rather suffer pain and
permanent injury than accept his help?

He
pushed down his hurt with a glare. He wanted to get down and at
least find out what had happened to her in the short amount of time
that had passed since she had left the church. Unfortunately, given
the blank look on her face and the stiff, somewhat awkward way she
held herself, he knew that any attempt at friendship, or even help,
would most probably be firmly rebuffed.

“Do you
need any help?”

“No,
thank you.”

When he
continued to study her, Beatrice began to suspect that he wanted
her to try to walk again, but refused to prove to him that she had
lied. She threw him a defiant look and waved toward the empty lane
before them.

“Please,
don’t let me keep you.” Unfortunately, her bravado was ruined by
the rather loud sneeze she couldn’t control and she wished, right
there and then, that the ground would just open up and swallow
her.

“Good
day,” Ben snapped and doffed his imaginary cap as he nudged his
horse into a walk. He glared at her as he passed, but she didn’t
look up and meet his gaze. He wasn’t sure if that annoyed him more
than her refusal to accept his help.

He
cursed himself for being several kinds of fool for being attracted
to a stubborn woman, but had little choice than to walk right on
by, and leave her at the side of the road. It went against
everything within him to leave a stranded lady alone, but he could
hardly kidnap her, and she had made it more than clear that she
wasn’t prepared to accept his help.

Still,
each step the horse took felt like a mile and, by the time he
turned out of the end of the lane, he knew that he just couldn’t do
leave her.

CHAPTER TWO

“If you
can’t get home now, you have only yourself to blame,” she muttered
in disgust as she watched him disappear out of the end of the lane.
She suddenly regretted her decision not to call him back and ask
for help because now, thanks to her stubborn pride, she had
foolishly put herself into a ridiculous situation whereby she
needed a miracle to be able to get home at all.

She
sighed deeply and studied a gap in the hedge a few feet away. A
five bar gate led to a field beside her and, although it didn’t
lead her directly to her driveway, if she cut across it she could
reduce her journey by at least a third of a mile. It was her only
option right now because her ankle throbbed mercilessly, and her
boot had started to feel incredibly tight. It was becoming
increasingly evident that if she didn’t start to move soon she was
not going to go anywhere at all, and the last thing she needed was
to be stuck out on the lane overnight.

With no
hope of anyone else passing by anytime soon, she took one last,
dour look at the empty road, and began to hobble awkwardly toward
the field.

Damned fool woman will be the death of herself,
Ben snorted in disgust as he watched her stumble
across the field. It was a miracle that she didn’t fall flat on her
face. Although he tried to harden his heart and go home, he just
couldn’t bring himself to abandon her. He knew that if he went
home, he wouldn’t settle until he could be sure that she had
reached Brantley Manor safely.

However,
he could hardly stand behind the hedge all afternoon; he had to do
something.

When she
struggled for several more minutes and almost fell over, he decided
that enough was enough. If he had to kidnap her to get her to let
him help then that is what he would do. Anything was better than
having to watch her stumble along in such pain. Finally, when he
couldn’t stand it any longer, he shook his head in disgust and went
after her.

Beatrice
frowned at the ground beneath her feet and listened to the heavy
thudding noise grow steadily louder. She looked up, and her stomach
immediately dropped to her toes when she saw who was galloping
toward her.

“Oh,
Lord,” she whispered as she studied his dark frown. The sight of
him, tall and resplendent atop his huge black horse was a sight
that stirred her to her soul but, from the dark glare on his face,
he posed more of a threat to her than the horse.

A deep
sense of foreboding swept through her as she watched him rein the
horse to a stop a few feet away. Unfortunately, there was nowhere
she could hide so she had little choice but to stand still and wait
to hear what he had to say.

She
opened her mouth to speak to him when he quickly dismounted and
strode toward her but, to her consternation he immediately swept
her off her feet without giving her the chance to speak. All she
could do was cling on to his broad shoulders in silence as he
carried her to the horse and lifted her effortlessly onto the
saddle.

“Come
on, let’s get you home.” His voice was soft and gentle as he
mounted the horse behind her and wrapped her in his
arms.

At
first, she was tense and nervous at being so close to a man; and
this man in particular. However, her tension wasn’t fuelled with
wariness or distrust; this was something deeper and far more
intense, only she couldn’t put a name to what it was. Was it
attraction? Was it awareness? Whatever it was it held her
spellbound, and unable to think of anything other than just how
handsome he was up close.

With no
room to manoeuvre, she had little choice but to settle against him
and allow him to hold her. She looked up at him and watched a
single rivulet of rainwater trickle slowly down his face. He seemed
completely oblivious to its progress, but she stared raptly at it
as it clung for several moments to the edge of his jaw. Her fingers
clenched against the need to reach up and brush it away but,
thankfully, it disappeared into the finely woven material of his
sodden jacket before temptation got the better of her.

This was
the first time she had seen him up close and he was, incredibly,
even more handsome than she had thought he was. His eyes were a
warm amber colour and framed with the thickest, and longest, lashes
she had ever seen on anyone, male or female. How could she have
ever thought he was cold and aloof? He was by far the most vibrant
man she had ever seen in her life.

“Are you
alright?” he murmured, acutely aware of her steady gaze. He had
tried to ignore the fact that she was staring at him, but those
beautiful blue eyes had started to distract him to the point that
he just had to speak, or he was going to do something that would
upset her, like kiss her.

Beatrice
snapped out of her perusal of his lips and struggled not to squirm
in embarrassment. She shouldn’t have been so blatant in her study
of him, but there was nothing she could say that would explain her
curiosity. He held her so tightly against him that she could feel
his warm breath against her cheek, and the steady thump of his
heart next to hers, it was a truly mesmerising experience that she
wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to come to an end.

Unfortunately, in that moment the horse stumbled and jolted
them both, and in doing so prevented her having to answer him. Her
gasp was squeezed out of her by the steely cords of his arms which
tightened around her waist and drew her protectively against his
warmth.

“It’s
alright, he won’t let you fall,” he murmured
reassuringly.

Beatrice
merely nodded. Words failed her. She couldn’t get her mind to focus
on anything other than how wonderfully precious he made her feel
and, in the space of a few short minutes, and very few words, had
made her reassess her opinion of him. This man was definitely not
cold and aloof; austere and somewhat forbidding. This man was
deeply, intensely, mesmerising. His blatant masculinity had
captured her; ensnared her, and refused to let her go, and she
wasn’t entirely sure that she minded one bit.

Ben
stared at the gate and struggled to remember which direction her
house was in. His mind refused to focus on anything other than the
feel of her in his arms. It was so disturbingly tempting to know
that all he had to do was turn his head and his lips would
practically be on hers. He struggled to keep his face impassive
because he knew that in spite of her curiosity, if she saw any hint
of his true emotions on his face, she would be afraid. He had to
maintain some sort of emotional distance right now, even if he
couldn’t create a physical one, because it was far too soon in
their acquaintance for him to kiss her. However, when she continued
to study him so intently, he couldn’t ignore her a moment longer.
In spite of their closeness, he looked down at her, and was
immediately ensnared by her beauty once more.

His
heart flipped at the sight of the rainwater on her face, and the
loose tendrils of hair that there plastered to her rosy cheeks but,
if at all possible, she looked more stunning than ever
before.

“Why did
you not tell me you were hurt, Beatrice?” He was careful to keep
any hint of accusation out of his voice but waited a little
impatiently for her to reply.

“I
didn’t realise just how bad my ankle was, really,” she replied
quietly. “I mean, it hurt, but I thought that if I could cut across
the field then I could get home before the thunderstorm struck.
Unfortunately, the field is rougher than I thought it was and it
has just made my ankle hurt more.”

“I
meant, why didn’t you ask for my help back in the lane? I could
have left you, you know.”

“I just
thought I could hobble my way home by myself,” she replied weakly.
“You have only got one horse after all and – well –”

“What
happened anyway? How did you do it?” Ben frowned at the lane ahead
of them, and tried to keep control of his temper.

Beatrice
briefly explained what had happened with the carriage and watched a
dark scowl settle over his face.

“Did you
see the driver?” He demanded, and tried to remember if he had seen
a large black carriage head this way when he had left the
church.

If he
was honest, he hadn’t seen much of anything because he had been so
angry about Mrs Underwick’s malicious comments that he hadn’t
bothered to take a good look around him. He had wanted to catch one
last look at Beatrice before he went home so much that he could
have passed ten large, black carriages and not been aware of
it.

“The
driver didn’t slow down or even look back at me. He was going so
fast that I only caught a glimpse of him as he passed but have no
idea if he is local, or likely to be just passing through.” She
sighed and looked ruefully down at her foot. “By the time I
regained my balance, he had gone.”

“You
could have permanently injured yourself,” he grumbled
darkly.