Usually, whenever she wished to block such disturbing thoughts, she would seclude herself in her workroom, taking chalk to her boards and losing herself in her equations or reviewing the crime statistics she’d been compiling for years and plotting them on her maps, until the unwelcome feelings passed. But with Molly missing, that wasn’t an option.
Perhaps she could just block him out by closing her eyes and working familiar math equations in her head. It couldn’t hurt to try. She wouldn’t miss much along the way, she knew. The stiff blanket enshrouding her face blocked most of the rain, but it also acted like blinders. All she could really see was patches of endless gray sky and flashes of the sessile oaks, birch and dogwoods that populated the area anyway.
Emma squeezed her eyes shut. But that only increased her awareness of other things. She flinched at the terrible cracking of twigs and underbrush as the horse trampled the woodland. The earthy aroma of sodden peat and rotting vegetation mixed with the pungent scents of horse and hay from the stable blanket, flooding her nose. And though she should be freezing from the damp muslin clinging to her skin, inside she blazed with an uncomfortable heat, no doubt a reaction to the man whose arms held her so securely.
Her eyes flew open.
That
certainly hadn’t worked.
Emma took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. If only Derick had stayed back at the castle, had left her to search on her own. She could have used the solitude to regain her equilibrium.
Don’t lie to yourself, Emma. You never had any kind of equilibrium where Derick was concerned.
She pursed her lips. True, but she was no longer a lovesick girl, and she had no intention of letting herself get hurt again.
Emma pulled the musty blanket more tightly around her, as if cocooning herself in it could provide safe haven in addition to shelter from the storm. Rain drummed against the oilskin, the rapid, irregular beat drowning out all other sounds. But it couldn’t drown her thoughts of Derick.
Why had he insisted upon coming along? He’d trivialized her concerns, after all. And it certainly seemed he’d grown rather spoiled in his years away. One would have thought he’d prefer to wait in the nice warm castle rather than set off into this storm with her. It couldn’t be because of any desire to spend time with her, could it? Maybe—
The roaring rain ceased abruptly, dried up in an instant, as English storms were wont to do. Emma glanced around. They’d almost reached their destination. She pushed Derick out of her mind and instead forced her thoughts to finding Molly.
Now that nature had gone silent, the distant cries of other searchers echoed through the wood. Perhaps someone had already found her? Emma listened, hope deflating in her chest as only exploratory cries of “Moooolllyyyy” reached her ears.
Emma pushed the blanket away from her face, preparing to dismount. A refreshing blast of clean air cleared her senses—and opened them to another scent, one of bay and bergamot and man.
Derick.
Just like that, she could no longer block her awareness of him. Every rolling undulation of the horse beneath them translated to a corresponding brush of Derick’s hard thighs against her bottom. His nearness, his scent, his low voice murmuring to their mount, the way she sat caged in his embrace—it simply overwhelmed her. The blanket grew stifling, constricting. She had to get clear of it.
Emma wriggled her torso out of the blanket, pushing it down to her waist to free her arms. Behind her, Derick made a strangled grunt, as if her writhing had somehow injured him. She stilled suddenly.
His hands moved down her body, gripping her hips.
Emma gasped at his familiarity, but before she could upbraid him, he scooted her forward on his thighs, away from his, well, his…And all of a sudden she understood what that curious hardness against her hip must have been. She flushed hot.
Dear Lord, she had to get off of this horse and away from this man.
“Stop,” she commanded, tugging on the blanket in an effort to pull it from beneath her. If she could kick her legs free, she could vault from the horse.
Derick’s arms moved back up around her waist. “Emma. Cease. Moving.”
“But we’ve arrived.” She pointed to the fallen oak several feet ahead that marked the boundary of her assigned section. “Let me down,” she ordered, grateful she had reason now to put some much-needed distance between herself and Derick. She should be putting all of her energy into finding Molly, not spiraling into a tizzy over her own confused feelings. “I suggest we split up, to cover more ground. I’ll take the right side.”
But he didn’t release her. If anything, his arms tensed, pulling her closer. Why would he do that?
She wrenched around in his lap to look at his face, placing her hands squarely on his chest to support her twisted position.
Derick’s jaw had clenched tight, his eyes showed lines of strain, almost as if her movements…pained him?
“We stay together,” he said, implacable.
“That’s ridiculous,” she argued, all concern for him dissipating in the face of his illogical dictate. “How else am I to take advantage of your warm body?”
Derick’s head pulled back, and his eyes scrunched together. “What?”
Had she said something wrong? She did sometimes. It was the literal way her mind worked. She tended to take things differently than most people. “You argued
that I should let you come along because ‘a fast steed and another warm body wouldn’t be amiss.’ I agree. Two will search faster than one.”
“Ah.” He drew the word out, eyeing her in a way that made her certain she’d made a fool of herself somehow. “Well, it’s not a good idea. If we separate, chances are I’ll end up searching for
two
missing women rather than one.”
Emma choked. Of all of the conceited—“What makes you think—”
“I don’t doubt your intelligence, Pygmy,” Derick interrupted. “Nor your capabilities. But can you admit that forest rescues may not be your forte?”
She pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth. He had a point. “Oh, but I suppose they are yours?”
A sound very much like a long-suffering sigh escaped him. “Look behind us. What do you see?”
She tried, but she was too short to lever herself up enough to see over his shoulder, what with her legs still trapped within the blanket.
He seemed to sense her problem and with a tap of his heel, turned the horse.
“I see trampled grass and snapped twigs,” she said, describing the clear markings of their passing.
“Exactly.” Derick brought them around. “Whereas ahead of us, the ground cover is pristine. The girl has not come this way. No one has, not for some time.”
Shame heated her cheeks. He was right. She would have wasted valuable time in her ignorance. “So there is no point in searching by foot here,” she concluded.
“And our search will go faster if we remain together on horseback until there is evidence to do otherwise.”
She nodded. Still, she had to do something to regain a sense of control. She unwrapped the blanket, shimmying and kicking her feet until she was able to pull it from beneath her. She did her best to ignore the way Derick tensed against her. Once the blanket was rolled, she settled
herself as far away as possible. Yes, she still sat on his lap, but as respectably as she could manage.
“I concede,” she said, indicating she was ready to set off again. “But
stop
calling me Pygmy.”
Derick released a long breath, but it did little to relieve the arousal humming through him. How long had it been since a woman,
any
woman, affected him so? Maybe such a reaction was to be expected, given this was the closest he’d come to touching a woman in two years. But this was Pygmy, for God’s sake. Pygmy! Where had his control gone?
It was that damnable scent, he decided. Lavender mingled with something more…earthy. He always had preferred earthy. Or perhaps it was that even her shapeless overcoat couldn’t hide the curve of her hips or her surprisingly rounded bosom. Or maybe it was the way she moved with him, the backs of her thighs rolling with the motion of the horse, flexing and relaxing against him much as they would if she were—
Derick swallowed, hard. He’d never had a woman across his lap on horseback before, hadn’t known how alluring it could be. That must be it. Not the woman herself.
He had to find a way of distracting himself from his inconvenient awareness of her softness nestled so close to his…hardness.
“So, tell me about this maid and why you are so certain she is in trouble,” he tossed out.
As Emma shifted in his lap to look at him, her overcoat gapped, revealing a glimpse of the swell of her bosom. Dear God. Perhaps he should have left well enough alone.
“‘This maid’ has a name, and it’s Molly,” Emma said, chastening him. She waited until he’d nodded his acknowledgment. “Molly grew up at Aveline Castle. Her entire family lives in upper Derbyshire.”
Derick huffed. “Sometimes family is precisely the reason to leave a place and never look back.”
Emma eyed him with a quizzical frown. “Not in this case. Molly adores her family. She is particularly close to
her
mother.”
Why had he said such a revealing thing? Perhaps it was a good thing he’d given up espionage when he had. Perhaps he was losing his knack. Or perhaps Pygmy just knocked him off balance. He cleared his throat, ignoring the not-so-veiled curiosity in Emma’s tone even as he wondered at the note of censure. “She may have met a young man they didn’t approve of.”
Emma pursed her lips as if both annoyed at his dodging her and condemning him for even mentioning the possibility. “No. She’s engaged to be married in a few weeks.” She told him about the girl’s routine, her movements of the past few days, of her own discussions with the maid’s parents, her affianced, and her friends. Everything about the maid’s life seemed…perfect. Normal. Happy, even.
“Of course, I checked with the local inns and the mail coach. But Molly is as reliable as they come. She wouldn’t have just run off. Besides, none of her clothes or personal effects are missing.”
Emma made a convincing case. He now had to admit that the poor maid
may
have met with an accident. He must have sounded like a total ass, which had been his intention, of course. And yet, somehow, it bothered him now.
“Detail the search for me up to this point,” he said.
Emma raised a brow.
“Humor me.”
She let out an aggrieved sigh. “We started with the assumption that she’d gone for an early walk and somehow injured herself,” she began. Emma spoke of how she’d calculated the most likely search radius, taking into account timing and walking speed of both man and
beast, the topography of the area, and a number of other variables that had near made his mind spin. He was impressed. He’d recognized, even when they were children, that her odd nature hid an unusual brightness. But Pygmy wasn’t just intelligent—she was bloody brilliant.
No amount of brilliance was going to find the poor maid tonight, however. The calls of other searchers faded away, and the last gasps of sunlight filtered through the trees in foggy rays.
Emma sat tense on his lap. Derick felt her frustration rolling off of her in waves, and now shared it. Yet as much as he expected Emma to fight him, for her safety’s sake he was going to have to insist that they return to the castle and start again in the morning.
“Emma, we have to turn back.”
She shook her head vehemently. “But Molly,” she said. “Her poor parents…No one should have to worry about someone they care about, to wonder where they are, what happened to them.” She turned a fierce frown on him that left him feeling like she wasn’t just talking about Molly Simms.
“I understand,” he said softly, not sure that he did. “But—”
“Derick!” She cut him off, clutching his arm and pointing ahead.
He straightened, his body reacting to the urgency in her voice. Peering in the distance he spotted what she must have. A trail of broken branches and torn undergrowth. Someone had been through here recently.
“You’re certain no one else has searched this area today?” he asked, his instincts roused.
Emma shook her head. “No one should have. Why?”
Derick assessed the damaged underbrush. The breaks were still fresh, still green, not twenty-four hours old. And leading north. Nothing lay north of here, no road, no shelter…just cliffs that dropped off into the deep valley below.
The same cliffs where his mother had taken her life.
Derick forced his jaw to unclench.
Might Molly Simms have done the same? The maid’s life sounded idyllic, but he knew better than most that one’s appearance often hid something else entirely. He almost asked Emma if she thought it could be possible, but instead only pointed out, “This swath is wide, made by a horse or mule, not a person. Were any cattle missing from the stable this morning?”
“No. Billingsly said all were accounted for.” A delicate frown marred Emma’s face and a crease appeared between her eyes. “Besides, Molly didn’t ride. She was terrified of horses.”
Which meant if Molly did come this way, she was either very desperate or not alone…perhaps not even agreeable? Derick kept his thoughts to himself, saying only, “Anyone could have passed through here…”
“True,” Emma said, “but I am
not
going back until I see for myself whether Molly did.”
F
rom the set of her chin and the gleam in her amber eyes, Derick knew Emma meant those words.
He nodded and pulled her back to him, tightening his grip on her with one hand and on the reins with his other. He kicked his heel and his horse surged forward.
They picked up the trail and followed it, but the quaggy ground sucked at the horse’s hooves, slowing them. Blood coursed through Derick, as did agitation. He suspected Emma felt the same. She leaned forward, straining against his hold in an effort to see ahead, her fists forming tight balls by her sides.
The sound of rushing water grew closer as they moved north. They must be closing in on St. William’s Creek. As they had when he’d first seen Aveline Castle after fourteen years, more memories of his years here as a boy came back to Derick. He used to build dams in this creek, didn’t he? Yes. He also remembered Emma “correcting” his engineering. It was normally a quiet, peaceful stream, but from the sounds echoing through the forest, today it was anything but that.