Her fingers relaxed, though she did not immediately step back.
“You’re trembling,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now.
“I was so frightened,” she admitted. “I’ve never been more frightened.” But that wasn’t true. The night when her dream of a shared kiss had become a blood drenched nightmare in which he was murdered before her eyes—she’d known fear that night.
“You had every reason.”
For a long while they stood in silence, the only sound the distant hum of the wind through the hedges and the faint beating of her heart in her ears. His presence, solid and steady beside her, eased the panic that had seized her momentsbefore, though it brought another sort of unease—one far more dangerous. The memory of that shared kiss rose again between them, unbidden and inescapable, and for one suspended instant she thought he might reach for her as he had before.
But then he stepped back, his expression composed once more. “Come,” he said softly. “You should not be out here. I will see you safely to the house.”
Eliza nodded, unable to trust her voice. Together they walked through the formal gardens, their steps falling in quiet rhythm over the gravel path. The night air clung to them, cool and heavy, the scent of cut grass and roses lingering with every breath. Neither spoke. There was too much to say and no way to say it.
When they reached the terrace steps, Gabriel opened the door for her, the faintest bow accompanying the gesture. She hesitated, meeting his gaze for a moment longer than was proper, then slipped inside.
He remained where he was, the door closing softly behind her, his eyes fixed upon the dark line of the forest beyond the lawns.
At the edge of the trees, a single branch swayed where no wind stirred. Then stillness settled once more, deep and absolute.
Chapter
Eighteen
By the time Gabriel reached the great hall, the hour was well past nine. The house was quiet, the hush of evening had settled heavily within the opulent corridors. Only the faint crackle of the fire in the library and the distant ticking of a clock broke the stillness. He moved with purpose but not haste, his thoughts as disciplined as any military maneuver he had ever planned. Emotion had its place, but it was not now.
He had abandoned his earlier resolution to speak with Eliza tonight. It would be unforgivable to press her with a proposal—however sincere—when she was still trembling from fright. The moment he had seen her running across the lawn, her face pale and her breath coming in ragged bursts, any notion of romance had been driven from his mind. It was replaced by something far simpler and far more primal: the need to keep her safe. Whatever strange fate had drawn her into his life, it had also painted a target upon her. Until he knew who was responsible for the threats that haunted them, he would not leave her unguarded.
He had escorted her to the foot of the staircase himself, unwilling to entrust even that small distance to another. Onlywhen she disappeared from view did he turn away and summon the butler.
“Have two men posted at the front and rear entrances,” he instructed in a low voice. “Another pair to walk the grounds between the gardens and the edge of the forest. They are to carry lanterns and remain within sight of one another at all times. No one comes near the house without my knowledge.”
The butler inclined his head with solemn efficiency. “At once, my lord.”
“Tell them to keep a keen eye toward the woods,” Gabriel added. “I would not be surprised if the scoundrel who fired upon us the other day has found the nerve to try again.”
“Yes, my lord.”
When the man had gone to see his orders carried out, Gabriel stood alone in the hall for several moments, listening to the soft shuffle of boots and the faint clink of metal as weapons were readied. It steadied him, that sound—the assurance of action, of vigilance. It reminded him of the camps he had commanded, of men he could trust, of nights spent waiting for danger that came at last or not at all. He told himself that this was no different, that his instincts would not fail him now. Yet even as he thought it, he knew this battle was unlike any other.
The enemy was unseen. The field, his own home. And the stakes, a woman who had come to mean far more to him than reason allowed.
He turned toward the staircase, intending to seek his own chamber, but the flicker of movement in the drawing room doorway caught his eye. Helena Ashcombe stood there, wrapped in a dark shawl, her silver hair gleaming in the lamplight. Her expression was composed, but the sharp intelligence in her eyes missed nothing.
“I wondered how long it would take you to come back down,” she said quietly. “I have been waiting.”
Gabriel inclined his head in a gesture of respect. “Miss Ashcombe has retired for the night,” he said. “She was understandably shaken, but unharmed.”
Helena nodded, her face grave. “And the cause of her fright?”
“She was walking near the woods. Someone was there. She heard them following her.” His jaw tightened as he spoke. “At her request I did not pursue the culprit, but I’ve no doubt of the legitimacy of her claim. She’s not the sort for hysterics.”
Helena smiled tightly. “Indeed, she is not. Eliza is remarkable woman. She has more power than she knows. Certainly more than she’s permitted herself to explore… She believes the gifts of the Ashcombe women have passed her by. And perhaps that is my fault. For the longest time, I did not tell her the full truth… and I still have not. We do not come into our power until we have known love. It’s almost as if it unlocks something within us. I suppose that sounds silly to you.”
He considered his answer carefully, but ultimately decided to simply be blunt. “Nothing sounds silly to me right now. I confess to being fully out of my element and having experienced things here that defy all reason. I am not so closed minded as to dismiss something out of hand simply because I cannot understand it.”
Helena nodded again. “That is good. What are you doing to keep her safe?”
“I have set men to patrol the grounds. No one will come near without being seen.”
