The beast howled as it leapt on one of the cone-shaped straw hackles. Screaming with what sounded like anguish, the woman swung her iron smoke pot at the animal. Gerard shouted at her to stand back, but she apparently didn’t hear. Skep and hackle toppled into the woman’s skirt. Bees swarmed while the smoke pot slammed into the dog. The animal bayed and lunged at the woman, knocking her off her feet. The dog was nearly as large as she was.
At least he thought it was a dog. Swinging his stick—more of a cudgel than a polite gentleman’s accessory—Gerard whacked the howling animal’s flanks, beating it off the weeping woman on the ground.
He could swear she was keening over the swarming bees and not from fear.
Chased by angry insects, unwilling to confront a swinging cudgel, the dog fled.
Gerard cursed as the stinging pests turned on him. He ought to leave the accursed woman to her creatures, but he had to see if she’d been hurt.
He held out his hand for her to take. She was a slight creature. The huge beast could have caused injury. “Are you hurt? I can send someone to clean up. You shouldn’t be out here if there’s a wild dog in the vicinity.”
He could swear the furious swarm of bees formed a protective cloud, but he was more concerned with the woman—who ignored his proffered hand.
“Help me right this.” She scrambled to her feet on her own. “I don’t think all the combs are sealed yet, and they’ll be losing their winter food.”
Gerard grimaced as one of the bees landed on his glove. But idiot gentleman that he was, he grabbed the sticky straw and hauled the hive beneath upright. Bees hummed angrily.
The woman appeared to be singing under her breath, swinging the pot and smoking him as if he were a ham butt. He winced and swatted at an itch on his jaw, slowly backing off from the weird scene.
“We need to send Avery and his men out to hunt for that dog,” Gerard warned. “Bees aren’t worth your life.”
“Beesaremy life,” she retorted. The heavy veil muffled her voice as well as the words of her song as she returned to soothing the insects with her chant.
With the hive righted, Gerard backed off. Another bee crawled under his cuff and took a piece of his wrist. He slapped at it.
The woman glared and all but snarled at him. “The workers are only doing what they’re bred to do—protect the hive. Don’t blame them. And that dog isn’t wild. Its deranged owner trained it to eat honey to harass me. Go beat the owner.”
“And who might the owner be?” Sucking at the wound on his wrist, Gerard backed off to a safer distance.
He could see little of her face through the thick veil, but the scorn in her voice said her expression wouldn’t be a friendly one. The sting on his jaw was already raising a welt. Angry pain traveled up his cheek.
“The animal belongs to Wystan’s estate agent. If you don’t know that, then you don’t belong here. Who are you?”
“Wystan’s owner,” he replied equally curtly—and hoarsely. He rubbed his throat and tried to take a deeper breath. “And if my agent is keeping a dangerous dog, then it must be for a reason.”
He waited to see how she reacted to his identity. Earls were few and far between in these rural environs. Most people groveled—except the Malcolm ladies, naturally.
“Avery doesn’t like bees, he doesn’t like me, and he doesn’t like what we’ve done to his orchards, even if we improved his crop.” She returned to soothing her insects.
So much for groveling. She was one ofthem. He’d known it anyway. Normal women did not hover over bee hives as if they were children. Nausea welled, and he could feel his throat closing up. He fought against the reaction, refusing to allow a bee to bring him down.
“I was about to order the gardeners to scythe that shambles,” he croaked. “You’re the one responsible? Why?”
“Scythe it now, and you’ll lose the seeds that will replant the borders in the spring. Flowers attract bees. Bees pollinate your trees. They may also deter harmful insects. But Avery lacks imagination and refuses to study the effect of natural planting.”
She sighed and stepped away from the hives. “I’ll not gather honey today. I might as well—”
Gasping for air, Gerard tried not to crumple. He failed.
Iona gaspedas the big man fell to his knees, holding his throat. Muttering curses, she threw back her veil so she could see better. She hadn’twantedto look at her landlord—or for him to see her. She didn’t think they’d ever met, but she hated taking any more risks, and there was always the chance he’d seen her twin, as Lydia had.
But needs must—she kneeled and loosened his shirt collar. Noting the swelling on his jaw, she removed her gloves, rubbed her fingers over the rising welt, and brushed off the stinger. She helped him lie flat on the ground and left him wheezing for air.
Picking up her skirt, she ran back to the hives, and with her bare hand, scooped up wax and honey. Holding the salve in her palm, she returned and wiped a little on his jaw, then pried open his teeth to put honey on his tongue.
The Earl of Ives and Wystan was so damnedlarge. As he panted, she daringly began inspecting other places she knew bees could invade. The heavy tweed coat should keep stings off his back, and his wool vest should have protected his chest, thank all that was holy. A sting over his heart...
She could have killed an earl! Fitting justice she supposed, killing the one who unknowingly gave her safe haven—when the earl shewishedto kill would never die. Her life was like that.
