AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Damn that her uncle and father had kept her so far removed from pawing hands over the years that she had no idea how it actually felt to be in a man’s arms. How to not let the way a rogue hand brushed across her hip send her nerves sparking. Rafe affected her senses in ways she didn’t know how to defend against.
Space was good. Separate horses were good.
“You inquired about me after the ball?”
His question reminded her she had started this conversation. His gaze had stayed forward, not a hint of gloating in his dark brown eyes.
“I thought it only right after our conversation. Please don’t think it was anything more than a courtesy inquiry.”
“I won’t.”
“Do you recall meeting my aunt?”
Rafe shifted his eyes off the road and looked at her. “Who, exactly, is your aunt? You seem to have a lot of them.”
“The abducted one. My Aunt Eva, Lady Vinehill.”
He nodded. “Yes, I recall being introduced to her. But I fear I didn’t get a chance to talk to her directly. There was a group about us.”
“She said you hail from the United Netherlands.”
“I do.” He stiffened slightly, his words chilling.
Her brows lifted. “Do you not like your country?”She knew of its storied past with France, the church and wars, but couldn’t tell by his reaction his thoughts on the currentstate of his homeland.
“I do not think on it one way or another. I have not been there in many years.” His look shifted back forward, cutting down that line of questioning.
She could see exactly why Lady Frantole had been pursuing Rafe so hard. When his voice changed like that—took on a brittle coldness—it made her want to peel away everything he was to find the beating heart she knew must be buried somewhere in that wide chest.
Sloane had warned her about this trickery long ago. About wanting a man that needed saving. How hopeless it was.
Sure, Sloane’s own experience with saving Reiner from himself had turned out just fine—spectacular, even. But Sloane maintained that Reiner was an exception and not the rule.
“How do you not have an opinion on your homeland?” He might be done with the conversation. She was not. “I’m genuinely curious. I don’t know much about the Netherlands. What is it like?”
“It exists.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“In anit existsway.” The words cold. Still done with the conversation.
Her bottom lip jutted upward and Victoria set her gaze forward. He’d been far more personable at the ball before he’d discovered who she was.
And there it was.
Men were cold, indifferent with her if they somehow got cornered having to chat with her. Untouchable. Why should it be any different with this man just because he happened upon her in the countryside and was kind enough to offer his assistance?
Why should it be any different when it was just the two of them on a lonely stretch of road with nothing to do but stare at trees that had long since lost their leaves?
And bloody hell, why did she continually lie to herself about who she was—reaching out to the world when the world never reached back?
Her eyes closed, her head shaking slightly at the pity gala she was throwing herself in her head. Not accepting reality was a pastime, but not a very productive one.
What she needed to be doing at this moment was hurrying her horse along faster. The more time Eva was missing, the harder it would be to find her.
The only thing that kept Victoria from screaming out loud in frustration every other minute about what had happened was the fact that the brutes had wanted Eva alive. That alone had given Victoria all the hope she needed.
Get to Seahorn and Uncle Lachlan would take care of the rest.
