A Powerful Little Love

Chapter 38

It felt like an age that he spent watching her from the bend in the road.  He had been about to make his presence known and carry on up the road towards the house, but the sight of her stopped him.  She was standing in the doorway, seemingly breathing in the fresh air.  Her dark hair billowed a little in the breeze as she closed her eyes and let the late afternoon sunshine warm her eyelids.  She turned on her side and leaned her back against the door frame, her legs stretching out a little in the tight brown breeches that she wore.  He sucked in a breath warily.  She wore nothing but the breeches, boots and a silk shirt that shimmered a little in the sunlight.  With the shirt still tucked tightly in he could see every curve of her body from his vantage point.  She leaned her head back on the door-frame and closed her eyes, completely unaware that he was watching her. 

What would she think or say if she knew how he felt about her in that moment?  He had always thought her uncommonly pretty, especially as a child but now there was something entirely different about her.  He could be in no doubt of her beauty as he watched her.  He watched the pale skin of her neck stretching as she moved her head from side to side and something within him decided that this simple moment and her nondescript movements were one of the most sensual things he had ever seen.  She imposed upon no one, and never projected herself in a lascivious manner.  That was why in that moment, her beauty became paramount to him.  There was nothing about her that would ever betray him, or anyone else for that matter. 

He continued to stare for far longer than he would ever know.  If she were not still supporting her weight on her legs he might have thought she had fallen asleep where she stood.  Her movements suggested tiredness, but he was too far away to really tell if the exhaustion showed on her face.  Her breathing was calm though.  He could just make out the rise and fall of her chest, loose strands of her long hair slipping into the opening of her shirt as she lifted up an arm to stretch out.

Suddenly she reacted, jerking away from the doorframe to face the inside of the house as he supposed someone must be speaking to her.  Just like that, Athos' moment of reflection was lost to him.  Then slowly she vanished from the doorway.  She must have left the house from the rear because a few moments later she appeared at the side by the stables, leading a horse that was not her own.  Buckingham appeared a few seconds later, bedraggled and worn out.  He looked as if he had been riding for hours in a hurry.  Amorette led the horse to a water trough and let it drink.

"Marcus D'Arcy is dead.  He was shot twice," murmured Buckingham as he ran a hand along the back of his neck.  His hand came away drenched in sweat.

Amorette placed a hand over her mouth in shock.  She did not know Marcus D'Arcy at all, only from a portrait she had seen a few years ago.  It still saddened her that the day had ended so sorrowfully. "Do you know who shot him George?"

Buckingham shook his head wearily.  "It was one of us though.  The shots were fired at close range and went right through him.  Whoever that was in the trees, they didn't shoot directly at anyone."

There was silence as Amorette watched the horse drinking.  "Will you stay for dinner George?"

At once he shook his head.  "No, I could have been followed; although I'm almost sure I wasn't.  If I was though I don't want to bring them here to you.   I'll get back on the road and stay somewhere nearby for the night.  I'll set off for Paris in the morning.  Weston and your father got away?"

Amorette nodded.  "I think my father thought he might have been invited to stay had the circumstances been any different."

Buckingham chuckled.  "I think Weston might have too."

Amorette threw him a curious look as she led his horse towards a stall where food and water were laid out.  Leading her own horse back out into the sunlight she observed her exhausted friend.  "You should take my horse back to Paris with you and give yours some rest.  I'll return yours to you when I return to the city myself."  Buckingham nodded in agreement.  "George, what did you mean just then about Weston?"