Had it all been a mistake then, the product of too much wine on her part? Was she now revolted by what she had done with him?
For him, that had been the most transcendent kiss of his life, but if she wanted to dismiss it as a drunken mistake, so be it. He had plenty of practice dealing with rejection, he thought bitterly. He would survive.
Lost in his grim thoughts as they rode out of the cover of the trees, he was startled when a noise like an explosion resonated throughout the low hills. His hat flew off his head and wood chips sprayed from the tree behind him.
“What the hell?” His stupefaction lasted for only a second before his mind caught up with what was happening. Abigail had been a few paces ahead of him, but had stopped and turned at the noise. Now her mount was alongside his. The blood leached from his face at the danger to her.
“Run!” he yelled, leaning over to slap the rump of her mount. Her horse took off, and thank goodness she was a good rider. Her light-footed mare galloped away as another explosion echoed behind them. He kept pace, riding low over his horse as they flew over grassy hills towards the road that cut through the forest.
It was dangerous to gallop through the forest. The path meandered, and there were roots and holes that could lame a horse. Not to mention low-hanging branches that could unseat a rider.
“We can slow down now!” He yelled over the horse’s hoofbeats.
Abigail brought her mount to a canter and then a slow walk.
“What on earth was that?” She asked, her eyes wide, her chest heaving with her rapid breaths.
“Rifle shots,” he said, his voice grim.
“What? But why? How? Who?” She spluttered, clearly stupefied. Unfortunately, he had no good answer to any of her questions.
“I don’t know. All I know is that if that bullet had been a couple of inches lower, I would be dead now.”
The color left her face, and her mouth slacked. Fear widened her beautiful eyes and he would have given anything to reassure her. To deny the danger they had been in.
“Are you sure?” She asked, her voice trembling a little. “Could it have been something else?”
“My hat was knocked off, and I saw the impact on the tree behind me. Nothing but a bullet could have caused that.”
Her eyes clung to his. “So you think they were trying to harm you? But why? And who would do such a thing?”
He shrugged. “My first suspect would be Mr. Dunson. But he should be in jail, awaiting trial. Could it be one of the tenants, tired of suffering the consequences of my neglect?”
She shook her head adamantly. “None of the tenants would do that. For one, they are all honest, hard-working people. They are not murderers. And you are taking steps to improve their lot. It would be foolish to kill you. Mr. Dunson, makes more sense. But how could he do it if he’s in jail?”
“Maybe he has an accomplice. He could have escaped. Or it could have been an accident. A poacher hunting in my lands, and we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Could be, but you don’t really believe that, do you?”
“No, I’m sorry.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t think why someone would wish me dead, other than Dunson. But my gut tells me this was a deliberate attack. I’ll pay a visit to the magistrate tomorrow. To make sure Dunson is still in jail.”
She shivered and looked around uneasily. He hated to have alarmed her, so he added, trying to soothe her. “We should be safe enough riding through the forest. Whoever shot at me was in the opposite direction and wouldn’t have had time to make it here.”
“Perhaps we are safe now. But what about tomorrow? Or the days after? Nobody can be on alert all the time, and it is difficult to ward against a determined assassin. Especially an unknown one.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, chin set with determination, “I plan to find out who is behind this. And bring them to justice.”
