Page 2 of Love Thy Enemy (The Vaughns #4)

“S tay in the carriage, girls!” Gregory called back over his shoulder. A quick glance showed that the girls were merely frightened and that the servant had his team well in hand.

Jumping from his saddle, he tossed the reins to the groom and ran to Rodney—pausing only when the fellow’s horse bucked, kicking out its legs at the intrusion.

Breath caught in his lungs, Gregory watched with wide eyes as the beast stomped, his hooves narrowly missing his fallen rider before the animal took off at a gallop, racing down the lane.

“Rodney!” Gregory’s knees hit the ground hard, but he barely felt it. Thankfully, there were no cobbles or stones along this stretch of road, leaving only the hard-packed earth. “Can you hear me?”

“Of course I can hear you,” he muttered. “You’re shouting like a madman.”

“Do not move.”

Gregory’s vision tunneled, fixing on the task at hand, as he searched for injuries.

His fingers trembled as they pressed along Rodney’s scalp, down the curve of his neck, across his ribs.

He couldn’t stop seeing the way the fellow had fallen—limbs loose, neck at the wrong angle, and the awful thud as his body struck the hard earth—and panic surged beneath the surface, cracking the veneer of calm he wore like armor.

This couldn’t be happening.

There were few people in his life that Gregory Vaughn counted as friends, and he couldn’t lose Rodney. Not like this. Not over a blasted petticoat flapping on the line.

Rodney groaned. “You do know I survived the fall.”

Gregory ignored him. “You hit the ground hard.”

“Yes, I was there. Everything still attached?”

“Apparently,” replied Gregory, though he continued evaluating the damage.

Rodney flinched at a touch against his ribs, letting a sharp hiss through his teeth. “Tender. Not broken.”

“You’re not qualified to make that determination.”

“I am not the one trembling.”

“I am not trembling.”

“Yes, you are.”

Gregory stilled for a half second, jaw set. “If your ribs weren’t bruised, I’d strike you.”

“See? That’s the Gregory Vaughn I know. Grave and slightly murderous.”

Giving his friend a flat look, he resumed his examination, though more gently now. “You’re fortunate the road was soft.”

“I chose it intentionally. For your sake,” said Rodney with a cocky grin.

With a sharp exhale through his nose, Gregory sat back on his heels, finally allowing himself a breath.

Rodney cracked one eye open. “If you’re done poking me in the name of medicine, I’d like to sit up.”

Bracing the fellow’s back, Gregory helped ease him upright, and they sat in silence, Rodney hunched slightly forward, one arm cradled around his ribs. Then, with a glance toward the fluttering laundry still caught on the line, Rodney gave a faint, pained grin.

“It seems my mount is just as afraid of petticoats as you are.”

Gregory huffed. “You are a lackwit.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Rising to his feet, Gregory offered a hand and helped Rodney up.

Though his education lay more in medicine than surgery, a lifetime of assisting his father in doctoring had given him quite the experience—enough to know just how much damage could be done to a body without any outward indication.

The fellow certainly was favoring his side, but as Gregory watched Rodney take a few cautious steps, he couldn’t help but feel it was a good sign.

“You should ride with the girls,” said Gregory, nodding toward the carriage. “We’ll take you home and get you resting—”

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” said Rodney with a scoff. Turning a wide grin to his girls, he said, “We aren’t going to allow a little accident to ruin our picnic. I am sore and bruised, but otherwise hearty and hale.”

All three daughters watched their papa with watery gazes, the two younger girls clinging to Daphne. Limping over to them, Rodney caressed his eldest’s cheek.

“All is well, darling,” he whispered, and the young lady’s chin trembled.

Then, giving each a kiss in turn, Rodney teased and cajoled them into smiles once more.

With a wink, he added, “Come now, we ought to enjoy the day while we can. We must give the boys a reason to be jealous when they arrive home from school on Saturday.”

And despite his better judgment, Gregory found himself swept into the carriage as the group set off with his mount’s reins tied to the back.

A somber pall clung to them, yet like the magician he was, Rodney Stuart conjured a bit of laughter and levity, enlivening the party’s spirits in quick order; a few jests and soon Eva was properly giddy once more, and between her and her papa, it was impossible to remain dour.

It took some time before Gregory could breathe easy again, and he found it difficult to think of anything else when his eyes insisted on scouring his friend for signs of hidden injury, but even he began to relax.

And by the time they reached the grassy expanse chosen for their outing, all thought of the accident was erased from their minds.

The groom spread blankets beneath the shade of a sturdy oak, and soon hampers were emptied and treats passed around.

Rodney reclined against the tree trunk, mindful of his tender ribs yet unconcerned when Eva cuddled into his side.

He laughed softly at her animated chatter, brushing crumbs from her cheek with his thumb and smoothing her hair when the breeze tugged at her curls.

How quickly time had flown.

It seemed just a few months ago that Eva had toddled around this very patch of green in nappies.

Then again, Daphne had grown in a blink from a gangly eleven-year-old into a proper young lady, ready to take her first steps into society.

In fact, Faith was now the same age her elder sister had been when the Stuarts first arrived in Thornsby.

With book in hand, Faith straightened as she turned to the others, eager to read a passage aloud, and though Eva wasn’t patient enough to sit through such things, Rodney kept her in hand and smiled as he listened.

Faith’s eyes brightened as she expounded on what she believed would happen next in the story, her expression glowing in a manner that only ever seemed to happen when her papa was around.

There, beneath the golden sunlight, sat an idyllic world. One that Gregory had been invited into but did not possess in his own right.

Shifting in his seat, he batted away the fleeting tickle of jealousy that tried to work its way into his heart—though that was not the proper word for it. He didn’t begrudge his friend’s good fortune, but it was difficult to see such happiness and not wish to possess a modicum of it himself.

Not that Gregory’s life was empty or miserable. With parents who loved and respected one another, two younger siblings who boasted equally blissful unions, and seven nieces and nephews between them, Gregory Vaughn was a blessed man. He didn’t want for anything.

And it wasn’t as though marriage was a guarantee of happiness. Rodney’s troubled history was proof enough of that.

Raising a hand to his head, Rodney rubbed at it, and though the fellow tried to hide a wince, Gregory couldn’t help noticing that flash of pain.

Chest tightening, he studied his friend.

Rodney shifted again, his hand pressing against his ribs as a shadow of pain flitted across his face, though he tried to hide it—but there was no erasing the sheen of sweat gathering at his temples.

The earlier dread surged anew, coiling through Gregory’s veins.

“We must return home. Now,” he said quietly, barely controlling the strain in his voice.

Rodney glanced up sharply, his expression startled, though he quickly smoothed it away. “No need for dramatics. I’m a bit sore. That is all.”

But Gregory shook his head, already rising, refusing to yield. “Please do as I bid.”

Rodney met his gaze steadily, the silent exchange heavy with unspoken truths. Perhaps his friend understood after all, for his shoulders dropped slightly in acquiescence.

“Very well,” he said softly, reaching out to squeeze Eva’s hand reassuringly. “It seems Mr. Gregory insists our picnic is over.”

Gregory’s pulse raced as he hurried to gather their things, a sickening sense of helplessness gnawing at him. Likely, it was just a contusion. That was all. A few days of bed rest would set it to rights in a trice.

The laughter from mere moments earlier had faded, replaced by uncertain murmurs.

Daphne’s eyes followed Rodney’s movements anxiously, Faith’s book lay forgotten beside her, and Eva clung tightly to her father’s hand, her cheerful chatter reduced to silence as Rodney’s strained smile did little to mask his discomfort.

“Everything will be quite all right,” Gregory murmured, forcing calm into his voice as he tucked a blanket around Eva’s shoulders. He managed a reassuring nod to Daphne, though dread coiled tightly in his gut. He turned toward Rodney then, reaching down to help him stand.

“Slowly,” said Gregory, masking the urgency beneath careful professionalism.

Rodney took his hand, his grip weaker than it should have been, and Gregory’s heart clenched painfully as his palm registered the unmistakable chill of his friend’s skin. Ice spread through his chest, settling deep into his bones as certainty gripped him. Something was terribly wrong.