Page 52 of Moonlight Encounter
Smythe’s carriage was gone.
Leading Valor, Aidan limped to the side of the busy street and discovered his buckskins were torn above one knee. Inspecting his coat, he found several tears. Feeling about carefully, he perceived that he had badly bruised his upper arm and shoulder, but it seemed he had not broken anything. What hehaddone was lose his quarry and nearly gotten himself killed.
Disappointment burned through him, as hot as the passion he had shared with his bride the night before. Brushing the dirt off his clothes and swiping at his face, Aidan seethed with a fury he had never experienced before as he spat out the dust in his mouth.
Once he had fully caught his breath, he remounted Valor, who was now calm. They made their way gingerly down the street as Aidan searched for the vanished carriage.
People, horses, and vehicles were milling in every direction and he knew it was a pointless task, but he spent the next hour riding the cross streets and searching for Smythe, even dismounting to peer into the dim interiors of shops and taverns.
Eventually he gave in and turned Valor’s head to return home.
He had failed. They knew nothing new about what Smythe was up to. All he had achieved was to acquire himself numerous abrasions and wreck his favorite breeches. Meanwhile Lily had been chased out of her new home by a thug, and he would need to hide these bruises from Gwen to avoid questions.
The low growl he emitted was drowned by the sounds of the street, but he did not give a damn if someone overheard him. This entire matter was out of hand. The best he could hope for was that Smythe would return to the vicinity, which meant that Aidan would have to follow him again.
It took some time to reach the Smythe home where Aidan left Valor with a groom in the mews. Ordinarily he would have taken the time to rub the gelding down, but during the ride home, his muscles had made their protests known along with the contusions on his knee, upper arm, and shoulder, which had hit the street first and taken the brunt of his weight. He wanted to get out of his ruined clothes and batheaway the nameless grime that had become embedded under his fingernails.
Crossing the back garden, he entered the house and prayed he would not encounter Gwen. Once he was in his room, he would summon his valet and get some assistance to clean up. Perhaps his man had some sort of ointment to alleviate the accumulating pains. Climbing the steps to the next floor, Aidan kneaded his neck, which he must have wrenched in the fall.
Bloody hell! I could have been killed.
Aidan was thankful he had had enough presence of mind to drop into a roll as he had. Fortunately, because of the traffic, he and Valor had been traveling at a slower speed, or he might not have avoided tragedy—it did not pay to be distracted when riding.
Finally reaching his room, Aidan slipped in. He rang the bell, which he hoped would result in his valet showing up. Then he proceeded to tug the clothes off his body impatiently. Once he was naked, he walked over to the mirror by the wardrobe to inspect his leg, arm, and shoulder. Livid bruises were already discoloring his skin in dramatic hues, as if to testify just how dangerous the fall had been.
Aidan rubbed his hands over his cheek, which was thankfully unmarred except for the grime that came off under his fingertips.
As he had suspected, he would need to avoid Gwen catching sight of these. He did not wish to lie to her any more than necessary because he had their future marriage to consider. It would be better if she did not know.
The thought of his bride, now that he had not the distraction of Smythe to worry about until the man reappeared, had Aidan shiver with hot memories of their night together.
He was afraid the concerns weighing down on him thismorning had made him act in an aloof manner when they had last seen each other at the breakfast table.
It was time for him to make amends to her once he was bathed and dressed once more, for he suspected it would be many hours before Smythe made a reappearance.
Gwen was writingin her notebook in the library. She was working on a translation of Propertius, the Latin poet. It was a project that her mother had wanted to do before she had become ill, and Gwen had taken it up recently after a scare of her own had made her realize how short life could be.
Following her dreams while she had her health and youth was a lesson she was eager to engage with. It was important to pursue one’s goals and to live free of regrets.
It was why she had planned to convince her father to allow her to bring a foundling into their home, but now a babe of her own was an imminent possibility—if she could recapture her husband’s attentions.
Which was why, when Aidan finally returned home, she was going to take their marriage in hand and find out what burden Aidan might be bearing. It was time to forge a true partnership.
In the meantime, she needed to remain busy. Waiting for Aidan to return home, or for her new life to begin, she would keep herself occupied.
Pausing her quill, she ran her finger over the poem.
Cynthia prima suis miserum me cepit ocellis,
contactum nullis ante cupidinibus.
She returned to the notebook, tapping the quill on herlips as she considered how to capture the essence of the elegant words.
“Cynthia first captivated wretched me with her eyes, I who had never before been touched by Cupid.”
In her chest, Gwen’s heart swelled, and she smiled with the sheer joy of shared appreciation.
“Cuncta tuus sepelivit amor, nec femina post te ulla dedit collo dulcia vincla meo,” she responded, holding her breath to hear what would come next.
