Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I could only pause and stand there baffled. Between Lukas, Hathor, and the queen, I was going to lose my bloody mind before the week was done.
14
Hathor
“Are you sure I shouldn’t hold the gun?” Wilhelm asked for the third time as we walked through the forest.
“As I said the last two times you asked, I am very capable of holding it myself,” I replied.
“The hole you put in that last tree suggests otherwise.”
I stopped and turned to glare at him. “Forgive me for not being the king’s finest marksman, but at least I hit something, unlike someone else!”
“It’s a little hard to focus on firing when you’re worried your hunting partner will accidentally shoot herself or, worse, you,” he fired back, and, once again, he looked like he was about to laugh at me. “Lady Hathor, surely you know you are terrible at this sport.”
“No, I do not know that in the slightest!” I huffed and turned back down the path when I thought I saw something that looked like a snake slithering past. Screaming, I aimed the gun and pulled the trigger to fire, but nothing came out. I stared at the gun in my hand, confused. “Is it broken?”
“You have not reloaded from the last shot,” he said, now coming over and snatching the gun from me before giving it to one of our loaders. “Lady Hathor is done for the day.”
“No, I am not. Reload it. I am not leaving until I catch something.”
“You were about to shoot a stick.”
“It moved!”
“Yes, I believe there was a squirrel on the stick,” he smirked.
“You are holding a grudge. It is unbecoming of a man.”
“Oh, so only you are allowed to hold grudges, because you are a woman? Who, may I ask, wrote such a law?”
“I believe it is in the Bible somewhere,” I said seriously and he stared at me for a moment before simply laughing. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing along with him; he looked so gleeful.
“You are honestly the most outlandish woman I have ever met, and I have met queens!”
“Why is it the more time I spend with you, the less amiable you become?” I replied, marching over to Mr. Dawson to retrieve my gun. I was thinking of taking a shot at him before turning back to the bushes.
“I can assure you the feeling is mutual,” he replied.
“I am ignoring you now, as I am preparing to hunt something for the queen,” I said, nearly dropping the gun as a tiny creature ran past my foot…it really was a bloody squirrel. When I looked back at him, he gave me a smug, knowing look. “Say not a word!”
“Lady Hathor, I beg of you, truly beg, leave the weapon in the care of Mr. Dawson. If not for my sake, then for your poor maid’s, for her heart has nearly given out twice now watching after you.”
I glanced over at Bernice, who was standing beside old Mr. Dawson, her face grave and her eyes pleading.
“It is a hunting party. I cannot be out here and not hunt,” I said to both her and Wilhelm. “I’d look ridiculously out of place.”
“I believe your outfit already accomplishes that,” he muttered once more, taking the gun from me and giving it back to Mr. Dawson.
I glanced down at my bright red-and-gold riding habit with its close-fitting bodice, gold buttons, and double collar before adjusting my red hat. “What is wrong with my ensemble?”
“Nothing, Colonel Du Bell. Now come on. The sooner we find something to hunt, the sooner we are free of each other’s company. Unless you wish to share your grand plan to dissuade the queen with me now?” he asked, looking at me and waiting. I frowned, because…“Let me guess. You could not think of one?”
“I could think of plenty,” I called back.
“And?”
“And…it only ever works against me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought maybe we could have a large argument before her, and vow never to cross paths, but then it would look like I am disagreeable and uncultured. Then I thought I could reject you before society, but that would be greatly insulting to you, rumors would spread that a prince was callously rejected by a mere marquess’s daughter. That would be the talk of the ton for…far too long.”
“That sounds as if you are worried for me, not you.” His eyebrow rose as did the corner of his mouth. “Have you come to like a villain such as myself?”
“Do not be absurd,” I muttered, brushing my curl way from my face. “Ask anyone: My greatest priority is always myself. If everyone is speaking about how you were rejected, they would wonder about the lady who rejected you, and that would be me. Then I would be judged as someone who considered herself above royalty. This would put me under greater scrutiny, and what gentlemen would seek my hand then?”