Did she really just hear that? With Dominic’s back to her while he tightened cinches on the saddle, she couldn’t be sure. It implied something quite different from what he’d said inside the cubbyhole.
“Why?” she said breathlessly.
“Because your demise on the moors would have gotten the Prince exactly what he wants—a reason to strip me of all tangibles and toss me in prison or hang me.”
What an unromantic subject to raise! She should have known better than to attribute meanings to his words that couldn’t possibly be true.
But as to what he’d actually meant, she said, “I doubt that. The Prince currently stands on the moral high ground and is being supported for trying to save lives. He wouldn’t accuse you and imprison you for something you didn’t do.”
Dominic laughed derisively. “Royals through the ages resort to any means—”
“And by the by, why didn’t you give up looking for me last night? You must have ridden for hours in that rain.”
“I did—and was tempted to.”
That didn’t exactly answer her question, but he was holding out his hand to help her up on her horse. She walked toward him but ignored his offer, able to get on Rebel herself. It just wouldn’t be very ladylike, but nothing about this situation was!
Putting her foot in the stirrup, she persisted, “So why didn’t—you?” She ended in a gasp when he put his hands on her buttocks and shoved her the rest of the way into the saddle.
“Self-preservation, as I’ve just explained.” He walked back to tie the supplies to his saddle.
When they were both mounted and just beyond the ruins, she glanced back, wondering if the beautiful white dog would reveal itself now so it could watch them leave. Wondering again about where the dog lived, she asked Dominic, “Does Ian Shaw breed dogs?”
“No.
“You’re sure?”
“I made sure when I found Wolf.”
So the dog must indeed be lost. She supposed she could come this way again sometime when rain wasn’t imminent, to try to help it find its way home. It was the least she could do after the dog had helped her find shelter from the storm.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“DON’T YOUeverscare me like that again,” Alfreda cried as she ran toward Brooke, who was standing at the entrance to the stable.
“I’m fine. I had some unusual help. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“At least Lord Wolfe found you. I’m inclined to think more kindly of him now.”
Brooke snorted. “Don’t. The only reason he went to look for me was because he was afraid the Prince would hang him if I died on the moors.”
Wolf had followed her out of the stable as if he were still tracking her. But this was the first time he’d gotten close to her since he and Dominic had found her, and she glanced down to see him sniffing her shoes once again and whining. Really?
She tsked. “You need to make up your mind, Wolf, whether we’re going to be friends or not. At least stop being so wishy-washy about it.” Glancing at Alfreda again, Brooke sighed. “The other wolf is still determined to push me out the door.”
“But are you still determined to change his mind about you?”
“I’m running out of ways to do that. Not one thank-you have we gotten for helping with his wound, though he did acknowledge that he’s better because of it. Even so, he doesn’t trust my motives. It’s almost as if he overheard that last conversation I had with my brother.”
“What conversation?”
Brooke looked over her shoulder and saw that Dominic had come up behind them. She felt like groaning but realized he probably hadn’t heard that much of what she’d been saying. “It was nothing. My brother was being his usual nasty self—sort of like you,” she added, and marched ahead, pulling Alfreda with her.
Thinking of a hot bath and carrots, Brooke passed through the kitchen to order hot water and grab a carrot to take upstairs for the next time she saw the household pet. She supposed she should check on Dominic’s wound before she got too comfortable in her tub. If he was going to go to his room. He might be going to someone else’s room. He seemed quite healthy—thanks to her. If he was favoring his wounded leg at all, she hadn’t noticed.
She washed her face, hands, and arms and quickly changed clothes, but one question was on her mind that she needed to ask before she did anything else. “Didsheleave?”
“The ex-mistress? At dawn,” Alfreda replied.
