“I do but I see nothing and can get no sense of what direction the threat may be, which means it may not be very close. Just remember, if I suddenly disappear from your side, just keep riding along as if nothing alarms you.”
Primrose nodded but the tension that held him ramrod straight in his saddle, his hand resting on his rifle, soon leeched into her. She looked to her left and realized they rode along the edge of a cliff. Looking down made her dizzy so she quickly turned her gaze elsewhere. A moment later she saw something glint up in the trees just ahead. “What is that?” she asked. “Up ahead and to the right a little. I saw something glint in the sun up in that old oak tree.”
Bened looked in that direction, swore, and drew his rifle, but he was too late. The crack of the rifle shot echoed through the air. Smudge suddenly reared and, to Bened’s horror, Primrose went flying out of the saddle to land at the very edge of the cliff. She clutched at the ground but could not get a firm hold. Before he could race to help her, she lost her tenuous grip and slid over the cliff. He swung around, aimed at the man he could see scrambling down the tree, and fired. The man was still falling as Bened threw himself from his saddle and raced to the edge of the cliff.
His heart was in his throat as he searched for her body on the rocky ground at the bottom but saw nothing. He was heartily cursing himself for missing the danger even though he knew he had felt it, had been looking for it, and had just not had enough time to find it. Then he heard something scrape against the cliff wall. He looked down at the length of the wall and nearly shouted in relief. Primrose was clinging to a ledge, her body half on it and half off. The noise he had heard had been her pulling herself up onto it.
“Bened?” she called as she cautiously stood up on the narrow ledge she had half-landed on.
“Here.” He lay down on the ground and held his arm down. “Can you reach my hand?”
Primrose reached up as far as she could but only brushed his fingertips with her own. “No. Just a few inches too far away. Maybe I can . . .”
“Nay, do not move. I will fetch a rope.”
He took the one on his saddle and found her gloves. Tying the rope around himself, he then tied her gloves on the other end and tossed the rope down to her. It was not until she affixed the rope around her small waist with a skillful knot that his heart ceased beating so fast his chest hurt.
“As I pull, use your feet and hands to save yourself from banging into the rocks.”
“Is the man who shot at me gone?”
“Aye.” Bened glanced toward the tree and saw that the man had not moved. Either his shot or the fall had probably killed him. “Very gone.”
The moment Primrose reached the edge of the cliff Bened grabbed her and yanked her into his arms. He just sat there holding her close and savoring her each and every breath for several minutes before he turned his attention to untying the rope around her waist. He carefully looked her over for any injuries, relieved to find only a few scrapes and bruises he suspected she would know better how to treat than he did. He could have lost her this time, he realized, and knew that the devastation he would feel if that happened had nothing to do with the dangerous circumstances and everything to do with what was growing in his heart.
Primrose checked her horse over and found a deep graze from the bullet along the mare’s right flank. It explained her panicked reaction. After fetching some things from her bags to treat the wound, she mounted her horse and silently followed Bened as he continued along the road. Even though her curiosity urged her to look, Primrose kept her gaze averted from the body sprawled beneath the tree. A faint odor on the breeze told her the man who had tried to kill her was dead and she had no wish to put that image in her mind to haunt her later.
“So are we still going to go to your family?” she asked as she slid her hand into the puppy’s basket and stroked its soft ears to comfort her nerves.
“Aye. Aside from the fact that I cannot keep strewing dead men over the English countryside without having some sheriff or magistrate coming to find out what is going on, that one came too close to being successful. Your aunt is also sending out men to kill us at a faster rate.”
“Because we are getting too close to finding Simeon?”
“I think so. I suspect he is aware of being in danger and probably knows just who it is, but she could yet catch up to him. The last thing she wants is you interfering with that in any way.”
“I pray you are right about Simeon. There is always the chance that she is trying so hard to be rid of me because she has already succeeded in getting rid of Simeon.”
“I just cannot get myself to believe that she has yet been successful in doing that. You said your brother was a very clever fellow, right?”
“He is. Sometimes confusingly so.”