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Estelle nodded but wasn’t sure she wanted them now.
“What was the old lady called?” Myles tried to keep still and not disturb her thoughts. Every sense was tuned to her, though, and the answer she might give him.
“I don’t know,” Estelle sighed. “She didn’t tell me. She was quite rude and warned me away from the area. I tried to leave, I think.”
“You tried to leave,” he repeated. “Were you prevented from doing so?” His thoughts turned to the hooded figures.
“Yes, by this dratted fog,” she replied.
Myles began to relax and offered her a reassuring smile. “So you became disorientated in the fog and struggled to find a way out. From the sound of it, you panicked and got scared, which is understandable given that you don’t know the area.”
Myles fell silent while he contemplated her revelation. Together with the folklore about the Whistling Woods, there had also been reports of sightings of an old woman some had labelled a witch. It had been many years since anybody had reported any sightings of her, but the woods and the witch had been linked together for many years. Tales had been woven about them ever since. Or at least Myles had assumed they were tales. Now, he wasn’t too sure. Estelle certainly didn’t seem the hysterical type, but how was he to know? He had met her on one previous occasion, and for only a few minutes at that. It wasn’t a long enough acquaintance to make any firm judgements of her character, or lack thereof.
“Just relax for now,” Myles urged when he became aware that she was watching him.
Their eyes met. There was just the two of them, alone, in the darkness of the night. Strangely, Estelle wasn’t scared anymore. Instead, she felt incredibly safe. It was the first time she had ever experienced being in a man’s arms, and it was addictive.
Myles stared down into her eyes and felt drawn closer by an invisible thread that wound its way around them both ensnaring them together as one. He suspected that thread would bind them together for always should he try to kiss her. His gaze fell to the soft curve of her bottom lip. It was so tempting that he struggled to contain the urge to taste it and see for himself if it truly was as soft and inviting as it looked.
“Estelle,” he murmured in a low voice.
Estelle opened her mouth to speak but was prevented from saying a word by the sudden swaying of the carriage when it bounced over something in the road. She gasped in alarm and clung to him.
“It is alright,” he assured her. “We are just going over the bridge.”
“The bridge?”
“There is a bridge over the moat,” he explained, relieved yet vaguely disappointed that the precious moment had been interrupted so abruptly.
“A moat?” she gasped. She closed her mouth with a snap when she realised she was repeating everything he said, and instead tried to peer over the side of the curricle at the object in question.
“Don’t,” he cautioned. “You will risk falling off if you lean over like that. Just sit still. There is a moat that runs around the house. You will see it once this fog clears.”
Estelle nodded and remained thoughtful for a few moments, but then had to ask.
“What happened to me? Do you know?” She looked at him. “I can’t quite remember.”
“I think that whatever it was you were running from in those woods scared you terribly. You ran out in front of me, I am afraid, and fell beneath the wheels of the carriage. I don’t know how badly you are injured, so try to stay awake for me. Because it is obvious that you are hurt, you need to come home with me so my staff can take c
are of you. As soon as this God-awful weather clears we can get a doctor to take a look at you, and then we can find your grandma and tell her what has happened to you. Until then, the safest pace for both of us right now is in the hall.”
For some reason he didn’t want to consider right now he refrained from telling her about the lights he had seen, and the sinister shadows. He felt that she had been scared enough for one evening, and didn’t want to scare her any more in case she refused to go with him. After what he had witnessed this evening there was no way he was going to leave her to her own devices either by the side of the road or in the village, or even with an elderly relation.
“What is it?” she asked, sensing there was something he was not telling her. She studied the cautious, slightly closed expression that had settled over his face and waited.
Myles was a little shocked at first and looked at her in consternation when he realised that she had read him so easily. He searched around for something he could say that wouldn’t worry her.
“Do you hurt anywhere other than your head and your feet?” Myles asked as he studied her boots again. They looked intact, although worn.
“No, I don’t believe so,” she replied.
“Good, thank Heaven for that,” he said fervently.
He negotiated the right turn in the sweeping driveway and happened to glance in the direction of the stone pillars they had just passed through.
“Damn it, they are here,” he snarled, his sigh heavy.
“They? Who?” Estelle stared at him and knew from the look on Myles’ face that she wasn’t going to like his answer. “Who, Myles?” she persisted when he didn’t seem inclined to want to tell her.
