He turned back to the stable boy, who was now speaking with a groom at the entrance and pointing at Simon.
"You," he called. "Have your fastest stallion saddled for me."
"I beg your pardon?" the groom said, stepping forward, a frown marring his face. "Who are you?"
It was a trial not to be at his own estate where his every dictate was immediately leapt upon. How much time had he wasted today dealing with Maberley's inept servants? "The Duke of Blackmoor. Now do as I say."
He stalked out of the stables as a streak of lightning raced across the sky. Damn Oliver York! Where was the little beast? Simon looked across the estate as dark clouds rolled overhead. He sniffed at the air to the south. Nothing. He turned to the east and sniffed again.
There it was.
The scent was faint, so faint that he'd nearly missed it. He inhaled deeply to be sure. Oliver was out there. Somewhere to the east, Simon was certain.
Within minutes, he mounted a chestnut stallion and tore off toward the east as thunder cracked above him. It had been years since he'd ridden this land, but at one time he and Daniel had explored every part of the Maberley estate. The area was not completely unfamiliar to him.
He raced past one copse of trees and then another, looking in all directions for some sign of his insolent ward. A large drop of rain splashed onto Simon's cheek. When a flash of lightning lit up the dark sky, Simon heard a faint whinny in the distance.
He urged his borrowed mount on as a deluge fell from the sky. Simon squinted, trying to see through the blinding rain, and he hoped his horse knew the terrain better than he.
He kicked his mount's belly, pushing him toward the darkness that now appeared to be shelter of some sort. His horse pressed forward, stopping only when Simon pulled up on his reins.
A crofter's cottage.
A momentary haven. There was a lean-to on the side of the cottage. He could tie his horse, wait for the worst of the storm to pass, and then continue his search for Oliver.
Simon hopped from his saddle and led his horse to the make-do shelter. He stopped in his tracks, drenched from head to toe but incredibly relieved to have found a dry place to wait for the storm to pass.
The scene that greeted him made his heart soar. Because, panicked and unhappy, Erebus already occupied the lean-to.
Thirty-Two
There wasn't a lot of extra room in the small shelter, but Simon managed to secure his horse to a rail beside Erebus. He patted his gelding's nose. The AngloArabian was of the twitchy sort and hated thunderstorms. If he panicked badly, he could tear down the cottage. "There, there, boy. I'll see you home. A little patience."
Erebus calmed a bit at his touch, and Simon stroked his neck. The poor thing was traumatized. It was yet another sin to add to his long list of grievances against Oliver.
Simon left the horses with another round of soothing words and stepped back out into the rain. He bolted for the front door of the cottage and threw it open, as rain poured off him in rivulets.
At his entrance, Oliver leapt up from a small bed in the far corner of the room. The boy's face was ashen white, as well it should be, because Simon's blood boiled at the scene inside the cottage.
While Simon had been caught out in the pouring rain looking for the pup, Oliver had been snug and warm in the cottage. Rain poured from Simon like water from a waterfall, yet Maberley was dry and comfortable.#p#分页标题#e#
Simon shrugged out of his coat and shook his head like a dog. Water flew from his hair, and Oliver was forced to raise his hands in front of his face to avoid being drenched. It was no more than he deserved. The boy needed to learn what it meant to play with the big dogs. If not for him, Simon would be back at Westfield Hall with Lily.
"How did you find me?" the boy had the nerve to ask.
Simon scratched his bristly jaw. Then he tapped his temple with his forefinger. "Superior intellect. Wins every time." Simon flopped down in a chair heavily, all bounds of propriety suddenly absent, along with the desire to find them again. He crossed one foot over his knee. "You remind me so much of your father," he said, shaking his head in wonder. The boy looked just like Daniel, from the stubborn jut of his chin to the feral glint in his eye.
Oliver sat forward but didn't say a word. Simon could tell he had the boy's attention at the mere mention of Daniel. "I found you because your father and I explored every inch of the grounds of Maberley Hall when we were young." He couldn't push back the smile that came with his memories. "There are not many secrets about these grounds that I don't already know." Simon took a deep breath. "We're also blessed with expanded senses." The puzzled look on the boy's face encouraged him to continue. "I smelled you. You haven't noticed that we have a greater sense of smell? That you can suddenly catch scents that you never would have caught before?"