Had Jethro come with others? Would Daniel be with him? Or even his father?
My skin rippled with hatred. I meant what I’d said. I would find a way to kill them all before this was over. I wouldn’t let them spill any more Weaver blood. It was the Hawks’ turn.
I’ll make them pay.
Turning slowly, cursing my shaking legs and suddenly nervous hands, I faced the forest floor from which I’d climbed. I was at least two and half stories up.
I closed my eyes, swallowing hard.
Don’t fall. Don’t even think about falling.
Faintness existed on my outer vision, teasing me with the awfulness of what could happen. I dug my fingernails into the bark, lowering myself slowly onto the branch. The minute I was sitting, with the roughness of the tree biting into my unprotected behind, I wrapped an arm around the trunk and sat wedged against the wood.
I looked around for weapons, but there were none. No pine cones. No easily snappable branches to stab him with. All I had was the element of disappearing. A naked girl vanishing into the green haze of the forest.
My heart lodged in my throat as the first dog appeared. I didn’t recognise him from the night spent in the kennels. He whirled around and around, sniffing the spot where I’d stood.
Another dog appeared, then another and another, pouring from the woods like ants, growling in delight at the strength of my trail.
Distress gripped my stomach.
Go away, damn you.
Then,hearrived.
Sitting proudly astride a black horse, so big it looked like a beast from the underworld, he cantered into being. His polished boots soaked up the dappling sunlight; a whip with a diamond wedged on the handle glinted menacingly.
He looked in his element.
A gentleman out hunting with his faithful steed and gallant party of dogs. His silvering hair sparkled like tinsel in the sun. His ageless face the epitome of ferocity and winning.
In his late twenties, Jethro wore command like one would wearcologne. His strong jaw, pursed lips, and sculptured brow shouted power—truepower. And there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Sitting with his back ramrod straight and hands fisted in the horse’s reins, he was...majestic. It didn’t matter if I hated him or wanted him. That fact would always be true.
Excitement blazed in his eyes as he scanned the undergrowth, a smile teasing his lips.
How long had this farce been going on? An hour? Maybe two? Had he kept his word and given me the full forty-five minutes? Somehow, I doubted it.
“Find her, goddammit,” he snapped, losing his smile and glaring at the dogs.
The canines wove around his horse’s legs, sniffing, darting into bushes only to come back to try all over again.
Jethro spun in his saddle, planting a hand on the rump of his horse, glowering into the dense foliage. “Have you stopped running, Ms. Weaver, or have you somehow managed to trick my companions?” His voice caused the leaves to shiver, almost as if they wished to hide me further.
I held my breath, hoping to God he didn’t look up.
A foxhound with a large black ear barked and took off down the path I would’ve continued on if I hadn’t decided to prolong my freedom by hiding.
Jethro shook his head. “No. She’s around here. Find her.”
The dog licked its muzzle, baying in the direction its wriggling body wanted to go. The rest of the dogs, either brainwashed by their leader or picking up on the scent of rabbit, all joined in the urge to leave.
My heart galloped.Please, let him go.
I might have a chance, after all.
The horse pranced—hyped up on the dogs’ energy, wanting to chase after them.
