The Match of the Century by Cathy Maxwell Page B

wish to kill you, or have you forgotten?”
    “I hope you trip over a tree root.”
    Ben laughed, the sound almost bitter. “I don’t know why I try,” he said to himself. He turned around and went striding off.
    Elin took three quick skips to catch up to him. Walking right at his elbow, she said, “Try?” She shook her head. “This is you trying to do what? Leave me behind? Pretending innocence? I know you too well. When you are in a good mood, you match your step with mine. But when you are being testy with me, you seem to enjoy watching me run to keep up with you.”
    “I’m not testy,” he answered testily, not breaking his stride.
    He carried the sack Osprey had given them slung over one shoulder. She grabbed ahold of it, the same way he’d taken her cloak and pulled back.
    Ben stopped. “ What? ” The sound was loud in the night woods. Too loud. They both knew it, and she could almost see his face flush at his silly mistake.
    “What have I done wrong?” she whispered. “You are out of sorts with me. We’re both tired. I’m exhausted. This day has been—” Her voice broke off as she searched for a word and had to settle on, “ Trying . But I don’t understand how I have annoyed you.”
    He did not want this conversation. The tension radiated off of him, the same way it had the night of her betrothal party.
    “Very well,” he said, the words curt as if she should already understand. “In London, it is good to be a duchess or related to the Duke of Baynton, but out here a person must prove himself. I proved myself to those men, and I believe I’ve proved myself to you, over and over again. Yet you focus on my sainted brother, the anointed one. The Chosen.”
    “Ben, I appreciate what you are doing for me. I saw those men respect you. They offered their lives to help us.”
    “But . . .” he prompted, as if anticipating what she would say.
    “But?”
    “There is always a ‘but, Ben’ with you.”
    “Stop that. You are being ridiculous. I meant no insult to you or to them. I am thankful you are here. I just thought . . .” Her voice trailed off as she realized she had wanted to impress the innkeeper and Big Roger.
    “You just wanted them to know that you were important,” he accurately finished for her. “As if being a mere person who was in trouble and needed help wasn’t good enough. Well, Elin, they didn’t care. It made no matter to them. But don’t worry. I’ll see you back to my brother. The two of you can talk about how important each of you are. You can even have dinner parties on the subject.”
    He began walking away, but after a few steps, he stopped. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Coming?”
    “You are important, too, Ben.”
    “The devil I am.” He came back to her in two strides. “I was important once, important of my own making. I was a good officer, Elin.”
    “I believe that.” After all, he’d left her to become a good officer.
    “And, yes, I have a well of resentment in me,” he confessed. “I’ve never wanted to be second-best. And I believe I know why Jack ran away. He hated the competition. Father pitted him against Gavin all the time but not because he wanted Jack to excel. No, he just wanted Gavin to be better. The rest of us didn’t matter.”
    Elin had thought she knew Ben well.
    She now realized there were layers to him that she had never known.
    “You believe Jack ran away?”
    “And that it wasn’t foul play? Or some other such nonsense?” Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. But I learned what happens when I cross my father. Oh, yes, I learned indeed, and Jack had always been the more daring of all of us. Perhaps he learned that lesson as well and grew tired of it. Perhaps, he, too, didn’t want to be the duke-in-waiting in case we were ever called upon. He wasn’t that sort. He always bucked the rules.”
    “But the second son needs to be close at hand . . . if the title is to be handled correctly.”
    “ Think , Elin.