First the girl. Now the murder.
What next?
He passed the fork in the road that signaled the turn-off and noticed fresh wagon tracks in the ground. Easing Destrehan to a stop, Ethan dismounted.
The wheel ruts hadn’t been there yesterday. The grooves disappeared through a clump of trees a few yards away, but beyond that, foliage obscured his vision.
Probably nothing. Local farmers taking their crops to town.
Then why did the tracks come from Skerrit’s farm?
Hobbling Destrehan out of view, Ethan followed them.
Once through the trees, he emerged in a flat meadow with a trickle of water running through it. The clearing looked empty, no sign of horses or carts, but Ethan studied it with a practiced eye. The place would make an ideal campsite.
As the pieces of the puzzle snapped into place, a rush rippled through him. This spot was close enough to Skerrit’s property that men transporting goods from the farm could camp here for the night. That meant that not only was Skerrit involved in smuggling weapons from Portsmouth or Southampton to France, he’d been hiding them as well. Last night Skerrit received payment for his services, though probably not as he’d anticipated.
Perhaps he’d cheated one of the smugglers or learned something he wasn’t supposed to. Clearly, whoever the murderers were, they weren’t professionals. They’d taken no pains to hide the body. Was the death a warning to someone else, or were the killers just lazy?
Or was there another reason altogether? Perhaps it was a distraction to draw attention away from the smuggling ring as they transported the arms shipment?
A sound caught Ethan’s attention, halting his thoughts. His gaze darted to a large oak several feet away, and a flicker of red in the breeze.
A hair tie.
The red satin streamer hung loosely down a woman’s black mantle, her waist-length locks swirling around it. She knelt under a large tree, head lowered, showing no sign of having heard his approach. Her hair reminded him of thick, long curls of chocolate-colored ribbon. Recognizing those glossy curls, he felt his gut tighten with annoyance. What the hell was the girl from Skerrit’s farm doing here, once more precisely where he did not want her? He strolled up behind her, standing there a full minute before he realized what she was doing.
Praying?
“I ask for your help—again, I know—and in return, I promise”—at her pause, her whispered words hovered in the clearing like morning mist—“I promise not to fall prey to temptation.”
Temptation? That was certainly an area to which he could relate.
Grinning at the idea that occurred to him, he leaned down and brushed his cheek against the wisps of her hair. “Are you tempted, sweetheart?”
She jolted, head whipping around and loose curls and ribbon flying about her shoulders like streaks of crimson lightning.
Ethan didn’t step back, and she arched her neck, squinting up at him.
“It’syou!”
“My thoughts exactly.”
She scrambled up, and he grasped her elbow to help.
“What are you doinghere?”
“The words right out of my mouth.”
She was still struggling to rise, the tree roots behind her forcing her to step forward to avoid losing her balance. Mere inches separated them, and he smelled her scent—remembered it from the day before. He hadn’t tried to place it then, but he did so now. Like the color of her hair, she smelled of chocolate and cinnamon.
With a small sound, she backed away, a wary look in her eyes.
He raised an eyebrow. “Afraid I’ll lead you into temptation?”
“No!” She sounded defensive.
Good. He had a mission. And the first order of the day was to dispense with this girl so he could investigate the clearing for signs of the smugglers.
