Page 2 of Her Brother's Keeper
Pride demanded that he answer immediately in the affirmative, but as the landscape tilted and spun, he was forced to bend over, clasping his knees, taking deep breaths so that he did not fall upon his face. It was with some surprise that he felt a gentle hand upon his back, and heard a compassionate murmur.
“That is right, sir. Take deep, slow breaths. Give yourself time to regain your bearings.”
Her voice was a mellifluous one—not simpering or weak—but soft and low, without being grating. It was the voice of a young lady, and a refined one at that, and yet…how could such a one be roaming the land alone? He felt a sudden urge to yank her hood away, to reveal her secrets.
“Must…see to my horse,” he repeated instead, the words coming out more as a gasp than the cool tone he had intended.
“Neddy and I were out walking, and we saw you thrown into the nettles,” she said. “It looks as though your mount stepped in them as well. I will go and fetch Mr Hill’s remedy. It will work upon horseflesh, as well as a man’s.”
‘Neddy’ she had said. So, she had a husband with her; she was accompanied, after all. He would not allow any disappointment to register that she was attached. After all, a pretty voice did not a pretty female make.
Two
A VEILED APPROACH
“Adder,” he warned.
“Yes,” she replied. “It will be long gone.”
Darcy supposed he should ask her what she and her man might be doing on Netherfield land, but it occurred to him that he might have ridden a bit too far south this morning;hemight be the trespasser. After a few minutes—which seemed like hours—the world began to cease its violent spinning; slowly, he righted himself, feeling her hand drop away. The sound of hurried footsteps gradually fading told him that the mystery woman had set off to fetch her medicine.
Turning towards Gallant, he saw to his relief that the horse had not gone far. He went to him immediately, but the horse, restless and distressed, began pawing and butting him. His fore inner fetlocks showed signs of irritation—he, too, had avoided the adder by means of the nearby stinging nettles. Gallant plainly wanted the pain to stop, and expected Darcy to do something about it and do it quickly. He hoped the womanwould not delay, and that her remedy would not make things worse.
After what seemed a long while but may have been short minutes, she returned; she held out a small, stoppered brown bottle, and he took it from her outstretched hand. Her husband was nowhere in sight, which was inconvenient—he could have used some help holding the stallion while applying the ointment. He heard the sound of cloth tearing and turned towards it—to his surprise, she was evidently tearing up a muslin apron or skirt of some sort.
Gallant however, soon commanded all his stray attention. As he worked to soothe the stallion, she laid strips of muslin at his feet.
“Is your man nearby? I could use some help holding this horse.” His tone was harsh, but Gallant, for all his large size, was an utter ninny when in pain, and was growing more upset with every passing second.
Abruptly, a mere lad, handsome, sturdy, but not more than four years or so in age, approached at a run; she snagged him, holding him in place a few feet away, murmuring lowly, brushing a hand down his back with what seemed a soothing motion; the child did not respond, looking between Darcy and Gallant. Could this be…Neddy?Nother husband, but her son. For some reason, this thought had never occurred to him.
“I do not think my man will be very helpful,” she said smilingly. “His name is Edward, but he usually answers to Neddy.”
It was useless to try and treat the horse untethered; in fact, he was unsure whether he could treat him at all. He managed to coax him to a tree possessing a convenient branch and tethered him as well as he could. Gallant was restless and upset, however, requiring most of his strength to keep him in place.And now the muslin strips she had provided were several feet away.
“Do you suppose you could bring those cloths over here, and saturate a couple of strips in your ointment for me? Gallant is not in a cooperative mood.”
She did not move immediately to do so—somewhat to his surprise, as she had been so helpful up to this point. That was when he noticed that she still held onto the boy.
“Neddy. Let us get the cloths and bring them to the gentleman.”
He rolled his eyes at her inclusion of the lad, who should not be anywhere near his stallion.
“Tell the boy to keep well back,” he ordered. “Please. This horse has been known to kick and bite.”
“The mystery is why anyone would possess such a beast,” he overheard her mutter, and he resented it. Keeping one of the cosseted boy’s hands in hers, she turned to fetch the cloths; the boy, however, began screeching, and lunging for Gallant. She picked him up, and it was nearly all she could do to hang on to him—he fought her with all of his small strength.
“Edward!” he ordered. “Stop it. Stop it now!” He was master of a great estate; grown men stopped in their tracks when he used even mild tones of command. In the stress of the moment, he had used his harshest. The young woman startled, but Edward did not even acknowledge that he had spoken, still struggling against her hold.
Without another word, she strode away from him and Gallant both, back from whence she had come, still and barely hanging on to the spoilt child. The lad, he noticed, had eyes only for Gallant—it was as if there was nothing else in his world except for the horse, and his mother was but an obstacle preventing him from reaching it. The lad grabbed at her; shehalf-turned, trying to keep hold of him. The hood fell back and away.
For the first time he saw her face.
He caught his breath.
Her eyes, large and dark, might be said to be her loveliest feature, but her skin was creamy, her cheekbones high, her nose pert, her chin determined, her brow fine. And her hair…oh, her hair. It was not up, nor hidden beneath a matronly cap, but a lustrous mane of wild curls, in colours of deepest mink to golden sunlight, disappearing into the back of her cloak in a thick fall. Instantly, he imagined those curls spread above him in a surge of feeling so intense, so unexpected, it was like an adder striking—a sharp, almost painful paralysis of his senses.
Darcy came back to himself in a flush of heat.
