Page 38 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

“Maman!” Gil leaped into her arms, making her stagger, and Carlisle jumped to catch her arm to steady her.

Noelle hugged Gil close, then pulled back to check him for injuries, sweeping her hand over his head and arms. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Someone fired at us,” Carlisle said tersely as he steered her toward the house.

“What?” Noelle gaped at him. There was no need to ask if he was serious. Carlisle’s jaw was set, his gray eyes fierce.

“A bad man shot at us,” Gil told her, his hold on her beginning to relax, though he still kept one fist curled tightly into her dress.

“Probably a poacher,” Carlisle interjected. “Just an accident. I’ll send the gamekeeper out.”

“A poacher?” Noelle asked skeptically. Everything inside her wanted to flee, to take Gil and run for safety.

“Yes.” Carlisle’s voice was firm and he cast a significant glance at Gil. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

He didn’t want to frighten Gil. Noelle nodded, relieved that he wasn’t dismissing the incident.

“There was a bang, and then I was on the ground and Uncle Carlisle grabbed me, like this.” Gil, obviously growing more comfortable by the moment, demonstrated, reaching down to scoop up an invisible person and yank him back against his chest. “Uncle Carlisle said a bad word.”

Noelle hid a smile as Carlisle admitted, “It’s true. And it was quite wrong of me.”

“And we got back on Samson, and Samson ran.” Gil’s eyes were bright with excitement now as his fear left him. “We went over a hedge like we were flying. But I wasn’t scared, was I?” He turned toward Carlisle for confirmation.

“Not a bit,” Carlisle agreed. “You were most brave. And very good—you did just as I said and hung on.”

“Can we do it again?”

“Get shot at? I think not.”

“No.” Gil let out a giggle. “I mean, jump like that. On the horse. Can I do that? Will you teach me?”

“Yes, when you’re older.”

“Look! There’s Grandmama!” Gil spotted the countess, pale as death, waiting for them at the edge of the garden. “I must tell Grandmama.” He wriggled down from Noelle’s arms and ran to regale the countess with his story.

“Before you start in on me,” Carlisle said to Noelle, “no, I don’t really think it was a poacher. I didn’t want to frighten the boy.”

“I know. It was good of you. What happened?”

He shrugged. “We were riding along, Gil on his pony, and there was a gunshot. That unnerved Samson, and he was dancing around a bit, and I was trying to get him under control. The pony acted up, as well, and Gil fell off. I thought...” His mouth tightened, his eyes bleak at the memory.

“You thought he’d been hit.”

“Yes. I jumped off. He was lying there, not making a sound, but it turned out the wind had been knocked out of him. Gil wasn’t unconscious, no bones broken. There wasn’t another shot. I don’t know if it was because the fellow ran or if he couldn’t get a good shot at us—the horses were between us and the woods by then. But I realized how exposed we were, and if the shooter was still there, he’d had ample time to reload, so I put Gil up in front of me and we rode back to the house.”

His simple words were devoid of any drama, but Noelle had seen their flight. She’d seen the way Carlisle had huddled over her son, shielding him. She reached out, laying her hand on his arm. “Thank you. For protecting him.”

His mouth twisted. “I’ve done a damn poor job of it.”

“You brought him home safe. That’s what matters.”

Gil called to Noelle, and she turned and waved to her son. “I must go.”

“Yes. He needs you. We’ll talk about this later.”

Lady Lockwood, looking much put out, stood on the terrace. Annabeth was beside her, saying, “You see, Grandmother, everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Lady Lockwood harrumphed, thumping her cane against the flagstones. “It’s not fine. Any ninny can see that. Carlisle, what the devil is all this fuss about? Maids are atwitter, said the boy was shot.” She gazed down critically at Gil. “You don’t look shot.”