Page 88

THWAP!

The sound was followed by a loud squeal, and the heartbreaking cries of a wounded animal. Melody looked again and saw a man standing over one of the dogs. He was tall and well-built, with thick blonde hair and a square-set jaw. In both his hands he held a long, wood-handled axe.

“HI-YAAAA!”

His shout was loud and fierce and stopped the other dog in its tracks. It skidded to an ungracious stop, its paws slipping on the worn brick path. The man raised the axe again and the dog turned and bolted. It scrambled back the way it came, disappearing beneath the thick canopy of trees.

The man lowered the axe and turned to face her immediately. “Are you alright?”

Melody had her hands on her knees, still gasping for breath as her savior approached. Apparently her track-running days were a lot further behind than she originally thought.

“Y—Yes…” she breathed. “Thank you… so… much…”

He held out an arm, offering her some support. She took it gratefully.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I saw you fall.”

“I’m fine,” she gasped. “But I think I… might’ve torn my dress.”

“You did,” he said, kneeling before her. “But only a little.” He held up a scrap of material in one palm, split down the middle. “Man you run fast!’

She chuckled nervously, half amused, half still pumped with adrenaline. Now that she was safe her eyes went to the fallen animal. It was twitching on the pavement a moment ago, whimpering, but now it lay still.

“Don’t look at that,” the man said. He put an arm around her and turned her toward the house. “It’s… not good.”

There was blood, too. Blood on the ground. Blood on the blade of the—

“Where’d you get that axe?”

The blonde man shrugged and pointed back at the woodpile. “Found it sticking out of there.” Sure enough, a small pile of freshly split wood lay scattered around a large stump. “Lucky, eh?”

“Very,” she agreed.

Without realizing it, they’d begun walking together. Moving slowly in the direction of the house.

“I’m Eric,” he said amiably. “Eric Hanham.” He offered his hand.

“Melody,” she smiled back, taking it. “Melody Larson.”

“Pleased to meet you Melody Larson.”

She sighed and shook her head in disagreement. “Not half as pleased as I am to meet you.”

The road to the house was fully shaded, and it felt good to be out of the sun. Melody was still sweating, still shaking. But at least she was safe.

“I’m okay,” she said finally, as she took her arm from Eric’s. “Thank you.” He smiled and nodded. She was moving deliberately slow, and appreciated the fact he was kind enough to match her pace.

They passed a mortared stone well on one side, the carriage house on the other. A noise came from the barn area — the rhythmic sounds of metal striking metal. Blacksmithing was something they would’ve done back when the place was built in the late 1700’s. Apparently, with the plantation restored, it was going on again.

A man stepped out from the barn just as they passed by, one with dark wavy hair that fell to his shoulders. He was shirtless and glistening — every stretch of exposed skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. It made his chest stand out. His arms even more. As she watched, he upended a bucket of water over his head, drenching himself completely.

His eyes blinked open and caught Melody’s gaze. The man did a double take, as if surprised by her sudden appearance.

She waved at him to say hi. Reluctantly at first, sheepishly, he raised one big arm to signal back.

“Who’s that?”

“Hell if I know,” said Eric.