Page 10 of Boxing With My Duke
At that moment, if she’d asked him to wrestle a bear, he would have.
“Fine. Let’s look for this dog. Carlton felt in his waistcoat for his small pistol—just in case.
“Thank you, Carlton.” She beamed at him and continued to hold his hand as they made their way back into the woods.
He didn’t mind holding her hand. In fact, he quite enjoyed her company—something he never imagined when they first met. Catherine differed from the other women he’d encountered at Society functions. She was forthright, funny, vibrant, and warm-hearted. Their conversations had been lively, to say the least. One would never be bored married to Lady Catherine Campbell.
He nearly froze in his tracks. Holy Hell! Where did that thought come from?
Marriage? He wasn’t ready for marriage. He’d avoided it like the plague since his first Society ball. So why was he thinking about marriage? And not just any marriage. No, he had to contemplate marriage to Lady Catherine Campbell. His convoluted thoughts were interrupted as Catherine tugged on his hand.
“It’s just up ahead.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled.
He blew out a breath and tried to shake off his strange notions as they walked into the woods. Catherine pushed through the trees at a quick pace—as if on a mission. The whimper sounded again, and she let go of his hand and took off at a run. Just beyond a decayed tree and some brush, they came upon an orange and white puppy with a leg caught in a trap.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Catherine crouched down. “My goodness! It’s a Brittany Spaniel. My father always loved these dogs—ever since he first saw them in France.”
She knelt beside the canine and cooed, reaching out to stroke the fur around his face. “He’s just a pup. I cannot believe someone abandoned him to this horrible fate. Sweet fella, we are going to take you with us and make you all better.”
“Hunters don’t take the time to ensure their dogs are with them,” he pointed out. “I see blood, but no bones showing. That’s a good sign. His leg may recover, but he’ll probably be no good to a hunter.”
“How will we get him out?”
He crouched down to get a better look at the trap’s mechanism. “Damn contraptions! People who set traps should be required to spring them with their own feet inside.”
“It’s just plain cruelty,” she agreed, petting the whimpering dog’s head.
“I’m going to pull the trap’s iron jaws open,” Carlton said. “When I do, I want you to lift the pup. But be careful.”
Catherine nodded.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
Carlton gripped both edges of the metal jaws and pulled them apart as Catherine carefully lifted the animal from the trap.
“You intend to make him a pet?”
“Of course.” She cuddled the moaning animal against her chest, planting soft kisses on its nose. “Mother is used to my bringing home injured birds and abandoned kittens. Father never minded either. I think I shall call him Riggs. Riggs was my father’s valet—he retired last year. A finer man I have never known.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Riggs,” Carlton said as he opened the pup’s mouth and looked at his gums. “He’s barely a year old and didn’t have enough training in the field before someone cut him loose with the pack. We’ll have a farrier check him over when we arrive at the inn.”
“Good idea,” Catherine said, glancing up at him with that bright beaming smile of hers.
He cleared his throat. “You know, I had a dog as a young lad—a wolfhound. A fine dog she was, too. Her name was Gretchen.”
“Gretchen?” She giggled. “Did the name mean something to you?”
He chuckled. “Actually, yes. Mother would read to me sometimes and act out the story—different voices, you know. Anyway, there was a story about a young boy and his dog. The dog was named Gretchen. The name must have stuck in my head, and when I got a pup for Christmas that year, I named her Gretchen.”
“How sweet. I can just imagine you as a precocious little boy getting into mischief and Gretchen always by your side.”
“You can?”
“Yes, I can. You must have been quite a handful for your mother.”
He chuckled again. “And my mother never lets me forget it.”
