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stern— but unfortunately handsome —young man could manage. “The stag hanging in the smokehouse begs to differ.”
    Johanna hated the way he loomed over her. She’d already spent too much time at his mercy and struggled to rise.
    “Let me help, dear.” The woman, an older version of the Lady DeSilva Johanna remembered, sat beside her on the bed and placed a supporting hand behind her shoulder.
    Johanna nodded her thanks to the duchess. “I shot the stag in the public forest, not far from Farmer Milner’s mango orchard.”
    “Liar,” Rafi snapped. “You were well beyond the stream when I stumbled upon you.”
    Sow-kissing mud sucker. Johanna’s eyes traced his perfectly tailored hunting gear, high-quality leather jerkin and breeches. “Send one of your retainers to follow the blood trail, my lord. I’m certain you employ someone who could track it to where I made my shot.”
    “You took it on my land.” Fire burned in his dark eyes and blazed red spots on his cheeks.
    “Should I have let it suffer?” Johanna raised a hand, grimacing at the bolt of pain in her side. “Never mind. It’s apparent you enjoy punishing the helpless.”
    “Why you venomous—”
    “Rafi.” The lady called her son to heel. “Go. Send Snout to find the trail and follow it to its origin.”
    The anger Johanna felt at being termed a poacher sputtered. What if the grass had been trampled? What if the blood had washed away? Johanna licked her lips nervously, her tongue finding a tender split.
    “Your Grace.” She turned her gray eyes on the lady, offering a look that managed to be both humble and innocent. “I swear on my honor, on my family’s, on my dear father’s grave, that the deer was in the public forest when I took the shot. Please believe me.”
    Rafael gave another irritated cough-laugh. “How long were you awake and listening to our conversation?”
    “Long enough to make sure I hadn’t been tossed into the bed of a scoundrel.” She touched her forehead where a fresh bruise hummed. It must have been the last shot of their brawl because she didn’t remember receiving it.
    “I’d never touch an ill-bred—”
    “Enough!” The lady’s voice cut through the argument. “I gave you a command, my son, and I expect you to follow it with haste. We wouldn’t want a sudden storm to obliterate her claims.”
    “Yes, Mother.” He gave her a half bow and glared vitriol at Johanna. “I’ll be back in less than two hours with confirmation of one of our stories.”

Chapter 8

    Rafi
    Rafi didn’t like being proved wrong, but Snout pointed out the blood spatter from the initial hit and even tracked back to the place the girl had stood when she took the ill-fated shot. Both were on the public side of the river.
    “It was a right fine shot, if I may say so,” the tracker said as he scratched his perfectly average nose. His nickname hailed from his ability to sniff out any trail.
    “It wasn’t a kill, Snout.” Rafi looked across the orchard but silently agreed with the tracker. With the low-hanging branches and shadows, it would have been a difficult mark for any man in his guard. “If she’d only waited for it to turn broadside.”
    Then she wouldn’t be hurt, and I wouldn’t feel such a fool.
    “Dom, send riders to town. Have them spread word that we found a girl lost in the woods. Say she was injured and is under our care,” Rafi said as he snapped a fallen twig in half. “I don’t expect anyone to claim the figureless urchin, but I’ve already been wrong once today.”
    Dom snorted. “I’ll mark it in my journal, for I’m certain it will never happen again.”
    Rafi punched his brother in the shoulder hard enough to knock the younger boy back a step.
    “Careful with those fists, brother.” Dom rubbed the spot theatrically. “They tend to get you in trouble. Right, Snout?”
    The tracker held back a smile, but only barely. “Is there anything else, Lord Rafael?”
    “If anyone does claim the