The Handmaiden's Necklace. Kat Martin

straight, which is more than most men would have done. Go home, Rafael. I don’t want you here. Surely you can understand why.”

      The smile slid from his face. “I want you to be happy, Danielle. I owe you that. Once I’m certain you will be, I promise to be on my way. Until then, I am staying.”

      Her temper inched up. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m marrying Richard Clemens. I don’t need your approval—I don’t care what you think. Leave me in peace, Rafael. Let me get on with my life.”

      She started to turn away, but Rafe caught her arm.

      “I asked you before—do you love him?”

      Her chin shot up. “That is none of your concern.”

      “I’m making it my concern. Do you love him?”

      Jerking free of his hold, she ignored the fierce scowl on his face, turned and started walking, her temper still high.

      She was marrying Richard Clemens. Her decision had been made. Whatever Rafael thought was unimportant. Her own thoughts needed to focus on Richard, not Rafael.

      But as she made her way out of the garden she could still see his tall image in the back of her mind, feel his intense blue eyes burning into her. She remembered the smoky look she had glimpsed in those eyes the instant before she had turned away, and keeping her thoughts on Richard wasn’t all that easy to do.

      Rafael joined the men for the hunt the following morning, riding out on horseback, Rafe on the saddle horse he had hired in town, an exceptionally fine gray mount that belonged to the man who owned the stable. The well-trained gelding was well worth the extra money he had paid for its use, he thought as they rode across the open fields.

      The countryside was beautiful, rolling hills crisscrossed with low rock walls, interspersed with forested knolls, bisected with occasional rippling streams. Meadows sprinkled with white-and-yellow daisies stretched across the landscape in front of them.

      They reached their destination and dismounted, leaving the horses to graze on the lush grass sprouting up between their legs. There were five men in the hunting party: Richard Clemens, Jacob Wentz, a wealthy merchant named Edmund Steigler, Judge Otto Bookman and Rafael, along with a pack of blue-speckled and rusty-red hunting hounds, brought to search out woodcock and quail.

      As the dogs fanned out with the young man who was their handler, Richard Clemens walked next to Rafe across the field, a smoothbore long gun with a silver-engraved flintlock gripped in one hand.

      “Nice-looking piece,” Rafe said, the long gun Richard had loaned him resting comfortably in the crook of his arm.

      “My father’s,” Richard said proudly. “It’s English, extremely well crafted.” Richard held the gun out for Rafe to examine more closely.

      Pausing for a moment, he leaned his own weapon against the trunk of a tree and took the gun from Richard’s hand. He snapped the piece up against his shoulder, lowered it and turned it over to look at the maker’s initials.

      “I know the gunsmith, Peter Wells. Wells is still making very fine weapons.”

      Clemens beamed. “My father was always proud of this gun.”

      “He had reason to be.”

      They talked a little longer, building a sort of camaraderie, though Rafe yet remained wary. He wasn’t quite sure why.

      “So how are you enjoying our country so far?” Richard asked. “Had the chance to meet anyone interesting?”

      “I’ve enjoyed meeting you and your friends, of course.” Rafe looked up at him. “Are you talking about a woman?”

      Richard shrugged. “You’ve been here for several weeks. A man has needs. I thought perhaps I might be of help, if you’re interested.”

      “Then you’re suggesting an evening of pleasure.”

      “There’s a place in the city I enjoy on occasion. I think you might find it entertaining.”

      “And you would accompany me?”

      He smiled. “I have a lady friend there…a very talented lady friend. We’re quite well acquainted.”

      “You’re getting married in less than two weeks.”

      Richard just smiled. “Getting married hardly precludes a man from taking his pleasure. I don’t imagine it is any different in your country.”

      Rafe couldn’t argue with that. In fact, had he wed Mary Rose, he would surely have turned to the company of other women. “A number of married men keep mistresses or pay an occasional visit to a brothel such as the one you mentioned.”

      But it wouldn’t have been so with Dani, and the thought of her new husband intending to live such a life made his stomach start to churn.

      “Your fiancée,” he said, “seems to be a very lovely young woman. Perhaps her attentions will be enough.”

      Richard just laughed. “I’m definitely looking forward to the marriage bed, but with my factory in Easton, I’m gone from the city quite often. I keep a mistress in the country. I don’t intend for that to change.”

      Rafe said nothing more. He had vowed to see Danielle happy. She would never be happy with a man who planned from the start to be unfaithful.

      “Look there!” Richard pointed toward a ditch running along the side of the field. “The dogs have flushed up a covey of quail!”

      Richard and the other men swung their guns into position. Rafe slammed the stock of his flintlock against his shoulder and pulled the trigger. A pair of birds went down. If the rest of the day went as well, they would be having quail for supper.

      Unfortunately, Rafe’s mind was no longer on the hunt. He was thinking of Danielle. He had the answers he had been seeking, but he couldn’t break a confidence and tell her.