Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(40)

“Just from being close to him?”

Lucy nodded.

“And then?” Sophia said. “When he touches you, what then?”

Lucy considered. “Lightning,” she said. “All the tingles rush together in one bracing shock. And the shock travels straight to the center of your chest and squeezes out all your breath. And just for the tiniest moment, you fear that you won’t remember how to breathe, ever again.”

Sophia shivered against her arm, and Lucy smiled. My, but what great sport it was to corrupt the angelic Miss Hathaway.

“And then?” Sophia asked, breathless.

“Then—if you’re lucky—he kisses you, and you forget breathing altogether.”

They reached the end of the green, and Sophia fitted an arrow to her bow. “Go on,” she urged, pulling on the string.

“And then,” Lucy said slowly, “it’s quite like drawing back a bow. You feel everything in you pulling tight, and there’s a, a …wanting building somewhere deep inside. The whole world starts to fall away.” She curled her hand into a fist, closing her fingers tight over the memory of a rough wool lapel. “Until there’s just you and him and …”

“And the wanting,” Sophia finished, releasing an arrow that landed just left of center. “Yes,” she sighed, “that’s exactly how it felt for me.”

Lucy jerked her mind back into the present. “But I thought you said Toby hadn’t kissed you!”

“He hasn’t.” Sophia fitted another arrow to her bow, her eyebrow arching to match her bowstring. “That doesn’t mean I’ve never been kissed.”

“But—” Lucy sputtered. “By whom?”

“Prepare yourself for something truly shocking.” She narrowed her gaze at the target. “Last year, my …”

“Don’t!” Lucy clapped her hand on Sophia’s arm. The bow went slack.

“Well, it isn’tthat shocking,” Sophia said, disappointed. “I daresay you’ll be able to sleep at night after the telling.”

“No, not that.” Lucy scanned the woods behind the target, her gaze roving through the backdrop of brown and green. There it was again. A flash of deep blue where none belonged. “It’s Aunt Matilda. She’s gone wandering again.”

She charged off across the green, vaguely conscious of Sophia trailing behind her. “Aunt Matilda!” she called, crunching into the undergrowth. The sound of snapping twigs drew her to the left, and she pushed deeper into the wood, her eyes searching the path ahead for any glimpse of indigo.

“Does she do this often?” Sophia dodged a low branch.

“Yes,” Lucy replied testily. “Whatever Henry is paying her nurse, it’s three times too much. Really, how difficult can it be to keep one doddering old lady in place? It’s not as though she’s especially quick on her feet.”

Lucy spied a blue turban bobbing through the trees ahead. “There she is.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Aunt Matilda!” The turban kept bobbing.

“I don’t think she heard you.”

“No, she never does. She’s completely deaf.”

“Oh. Then why do you shout at her?”

Lucy bristled with irritation, but she held her tongue. She redoubled her pace on a leaf-strewn game trail, leaving Sophia to struggle through the brush on her own. Really, she would humor Sophia up to a point, but she would not be made to look stupid.

“Oof!”

An unseen something caught her ankle, sending her sprawling onto the forest floor. Her fingernails dug into spongy moss. She didn’t need Sophia to make her look stupid, she thought ruefully. She made a right idiot of herself on a regular basis.

She rolled over gingerly. Her ankle was caught on—or rather, caughtin something. She tugged against the resistance, and a sharp twinge of pain was her reward. Lucy sat up and pulled up the hem of her skirt to investigate. A slender cord looped around her ankle above the boot; a little noose drawing tighter with every motion she made.

“Blast,” she muttered as Sophia rushed to her side.

“Lucy, what is it?”

“It’s a snare.” She yanked at the noose, working her fingers under the cord. “Do you see Aunt Matilda?”

“No … Oh, yes.”

“Would you kindly go after her, please?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Lucy unlaced her boot and slipped it off, then began easing the noose over her stockinged heel. “Of course it’s necessary. We don’t want to lose her. I’ll be right along.”

“We won’t lose her. She’s already found.”

Lucy looked up from her foot in exasperation. A cutting retort twitched on the tip of her tongue. Couldn’t Sophia dispense with the coy remarks? It wasn’t as though Toby were around, after all.

Oh. But he was.

Toby and the other three men were walking toward them. Henry led the way, Aunt Matilda’s arm tucked firmly in his. Felix and Toby chatted companionably as they followed. Jeremy brought up the rear.

“Hullo, Lucy.” Henry came to a halt and loomed over her. “Did you need rescuing, too?”

“No,” she huffed, finally sliding the loop of cord off her toes and jamming her foot back into her boot. “It’s a snare, is all. I had my eye on Aunt Matilda, and I didn’t watch where I was stepping.”