Pacing around the campsite was not helping anyone, Primrose scolded herself. She turned to go back to her bedding on the ground, careful to avoid Boudicca who had been pacing right along beside her. Sitting down on the blankets, she welcomed the puppy onto her lap and lightly scratched the dog’s soft ears.
Bened had been gone for too long. Although they had traveled for a long time to reach this spot, and with as few stops as possible along the way, there had been no sign of her aunt or any of her hired men. Primrose had begun to believe the Wherlockes had done as promised and delayed the woman. It had been wonderful to relax but now Bened was missing. What could Bened have found that was keeping him away from her for so long? Just how far had he gone to seek out anyone who might be following them?
Something was wrong. Primrose was certain of it. She had fought to ignore a growing feeling of unease but had failed miserably. Unlike the Wherlockes and their ilk, she had no gifts, but she was inclined to have very trustworthy instincts. Right now those instincts were telling her that Bened needed help.
Setting Boudicca aside, she stood up and checked her pistol before the light faded any more. Primrose hesitated and then put Boudicca in her basket. If she was just allowing the fear of waiting alone in the dark direct her, she would quietly accept the lecture she was certain Bened would burn her ears with, but she could not risk dismissing the overwhelming feeling that something had gone wrong. Everything inside of her, heart, mind, and gut, was telling her that this time it was Bened who needed help and protection.
Having watched Bened closely as he followed a trail and listened to the answers he had calmly given her every question, Primrose tried to see the signs of which way he had gone. His big horse made it easier than she suspected it would have been if Bened had walked away but Primrose doubted she could follow the trail for long. If Bened had tried to hide it, she was doomed.
She came upon another small clearing and frowned. Something had stirred up the ground but she knew she had no chance of reading it as well as Bened could have. Then she heard the jingle of a harness and looked up to see two tall, dark men sitting at the edge of the clearing, watching her. A soft growl of warning came from deep inside the little basket she still carried Boudicca in. One of the two men grinned and, even as she pointed her pistol at them, she began to believe she was facing some of Bened’s family. The Wherlockes and Vaughns did share a certain look and the one grinning at her looked a lot like Bened except with the softer handsomeness so many women sought.
“We are not the enemy, m’lady,” said the one who smiled.
“Well, since you have not yet thought to tell me who you are, I cannot be certain of that, can I?”
“I am Morris Wherlocke and this is Bened’s brother Bevan. We got to Argus shortly after you and Bened rode away. Argus sent us out to watch the woman and her men. We watched them follow you and so decided we had best come along as well.”
Primrose sighed as her heart clenched with fear even as she looked back down at the disturbed ground and saw the sparkle caused by the sunlight touching a drop of blood. “They have him.”
“Now, we cannot be certain of that yet,” said Bevan as he dismounted and crouched down near the spot where the ground was most disturbed.
She watched him study it and waited patiently for his opinion. “Someone took Bened,” she said again as her patience swiftly ran out. “I have been watching and studying how Bened reads the ground. I know it is his gift.”
“Oh, it is. Bened could look at tracks like this and tell you how many were here, their height and weight, male or female, and probably even what they had to eat for their morning meal. All I can see is that someone tussled here.”
“And bled.” Primrose pointed to the blood splattered on the leaves. “And if I recall my lessons correctly . . .”
“Bened was teaching you?”
“Explaining. I kept asking how he could know what he did and he would try to explain. I have a very precise memory”—she frowned—“except for a few short spaces from my childhood, and recall all he said. I also know Mercury’s print. They took him away on the back of Mercury.”
“Show me,” Bevan said, and ignored Morris when the man walked up to crouch down beside him. “Come and show me. With what I know and what you say, we might find the answers we need.”
Primrose carefully set her basket down on unmarked grass and crouched next to Bened’s brother. “We agree some men came here where Bened was or had been. Correct?”
“Yes, and I would say three or four men.”