Cody shrugged. The fringe on his soft leather shirt swayed. “I really wanted some time alone with you,” he admitted, looking away from Brandon, the tips of his ears reddening. “I leave in three weeks.”
One corner of Brandon’s mouth lifted in a smile at Cody’s embarrassment. “I know why you suggested this outing. I would have done if you hadn’t.” He paused, studying Cody’s profile. “Are you certain you cannot wait until after Christmas to leave? Oh, hell, I promised myself I wouldn’t ask. Forget I brought it up.”
Cody kicked at a few leaves with the toe of his butter-yellow moccasins. “Perhaps if Rory weren’t here, Bran, I could bring myself to postpone accepting Paul Marchand’s invitation until after the New Year. With things as they are now, I’m anxious to be gone from the folly. I might even be sailing to England before Christmas.”
“This is what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have distinguished myself studying law.” He stopped abruptly, holding out his hand to prevent Brandon from going forward, as something moved in the bushes ahead of them.
Davey French stepped from behind a tree to block Brandon and Cody’s path, chuckling at the clear relief in Cody’s rueful smile. “It’s a certainty neither of the Flemings will distinguish themselves as hunters. Only time I hear so much jabber is when my wife and her friends are quilting.”
Brandon laughed, extending his hand to Davey. It was swallowed immediately in the older man’s beefy grip. Even when he clenched his fists, Davey French didn’t have knuckles. “Good to see you, Davey.”
Davey grinned, showing two rows of uneven teeth. His lower lip bulged with a chew of tobacco. He spit and offered his hand to Cody. “Let’s feel your handshake, stripling.” He took Cody’s hand and squeezed. Hard. “Not too bad. Might be that you have the makin’s of a man.”
Cody shook out the bones in his hand when Davey released it. “You old reprobate,” he said, not unkindly. “What are you doing here?”
“As far as I can tell, it’s my land. If you two had game, I’d think you were poaching.”
“Playing lord of the manor, Davey?” asked Brandon. No one in the Tidewater paid much attention to property lines, and Davey was no exception.
Davey threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter. His large frame shook. “Not bloody likely.”
Cody grinned. “Do you want to join us? Bran will tell you it’s safer. I almost shot you a while back. At least I think it was you. You shouldn’t skulk behind trees.”
Davey pretended to shudder. He pointed to the musket strapped to his back. “Course I’ll join you.”
Parker paused in his tracking.He did not want to get too close to his brothers, but he knew they were not more than a hundred yards to the north. From his vantage point he could see Aurora and Shannon approaching on horseback. They wove in and out of the trees, but Aurora’s scarlet plume caught his eye and held his attention. Parker’s gaze narrowed and sharpened on his quarry. Once again he was struck by the resemblance that had proved so crucial to his plans. At his present distance only Aurora’s clever little hat distinguished the sisters. He waited, camouflaged by the underbrush, forcing calm while telling himself it would not be much longer before his greatest wish was realized.
“Let’s circle around,”Brandon suggested, elbowing Cody in the ribs. “We owe Davey a debt. He’s chased the game back to the folly.”
Davey glanced over his shoulder as he lumbered forward in the direction Brandon indicated. “I figure it’s the only way you boys are going to get anything.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “C’mon. I think I spotted a buck through them trees.”
Cody and Brandon followed, beginning a good-natured squabble with Davey as to which one of them would claim the buck. They stopped on a small rise when they saw Davey hadn’t been joking, and held their breath as the buck bent his head to drink from the brook. Very slowly, so as not to alarm the deer, Cody slid his rifle from his shoulder and took aim.
Musket fire rocked Cody back on his heels.
Startled, the buck lifted his head. In the span of a moment he was gone, tearing through the woods for safety.
Cody turned to Brandon and Davey, but his question was never voiced. A woman’s scream sliced the still air. “Sweet Jesus! That sounds like—” He didn’t finish. Brandon had already pushed Davey aside and was running toward the origin of the scream. Cody slung his rifle back in place and gave the bewildered Davey a shove. “Move, man! Follow Brandon!”
Brandon raced through the woods, unaware that Cody and Davey were close on his heels. In his mind there was no room for anything but the echo of that first scream. Spindle-like branches and thorns tore at his clothing, and he did not feel any of it. The ten-pound musket on his back might as well have been a feather. He made a dive for safety as Anthem barreled through the underbrush, wild with fear. Rolling to his feet again, he pressed on, his mouth set grimly as he realized the implications of the riderless horse.
“Damn you! Get away from her, bitch!” he shouted when he saw Aurora beneath a massive oak, bending over Shannon’s still body. He watched the scarlet feather in Aurora’s hat bob as she lifted her face to him. Brandon’s hands curled into tight fists and he had to check his terrible anger before he slapped her and wiped what he saw as a parody of grief and anguish from her pinched features. He pushed Aurora aside so hard that she fell against the oak, bruising her shoulder. He knelt beside Shannon and cradled her head in his lap. With one hand he quickly undid the buttons of her coat.
“She’s dead, Brandon. The shot…She died in my arms.”
“Damn you! Damn your—” He stopped as his fingers touched the blossom of blood on the scarlet waistcoat while he sought a pulse in her neck with his other hand. Through a thin veil of tears he tried to make sense of what he was seeing and of what he had just heard. He raised his eyes to the woman slumped against the tree trunk. She had removed her hat and was turning it over in her hands, studying it as the planes of her face paled, first with some revelation, then with repulsion. She threw the hat away from her, clearly revolted, and buried her face in her hands just as Cody and Davey French came through the trees, holding a skittish Anthem between them.
“My God,” Cody whispered hoarsely, his eyes darting from one person to another in the tableau before him. “Is she—”
Brandon nodded. “The shot we heard,” he said. No other explanation was required.
Cody’s glanced dropped to Aurora’s hat. He released Anthem and stepped menacingly toward the oak tree. “I should have killed you years ago, whore! You don’t deserve to live for what you’ve done to her.”
“Cody! No! She’s Shannon!” The warning came too late. Cody had already gripped Shannon by the shoulders and flung her to the ground. Brandon released Aurora and tackled his brother. “No! I made the same mistake! It’s Rory who’s dead!”
Cody ceased his struggle, staring blankly at his brother. “Rory’s dead?” he repeated. He tilted back his head to look at Shannon. “You?” he asked incredulously. “All this time it’s been you?”
