Page 21 of A Beauty for a Duke

“I’ve never seen one.”

“Yes, well, despite being around since the dawn of time, you probably wouldn’t have seen one. Why would you?” His voice was growing in volume. His womanshouldnever have seen one. His woman should never have to use one. He rubbed his jaw.

“Toothache again?”

“No, that’s just my reaction to you sometimes.” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face at that.

“What’s it for? Why are you giving me this?”

“Because of what happened the first night I met you.”

“Well, it won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t happen again.” And then he showed her how to use it and where she could keep it. He watched her slip it into the pocket where he knew she kept her book, and he felt marginally relieved, yet still vexed beyond belief.

There was no time to continue the conversation between getting ready, boarding the carriage, and settling in.

They rode in silence for a lengthy time, collecting their thoughts and enjoying the fluttering snow out the window. At least, that’s what Egan assumed Sofie was doing when she wasn’t reading the book she had withdrawn from her pocket.

Just when Egan was about to broach the subject again, the carriage stopped.

There was a sharp rap on the door, its opening, followed by the words, “Stand and deliver.”

As if there were no God above. Egan cursed the skies. Sofie was closest to the open door.

“I think not,” he growled, reaching simultaneously for Sofie and for his weapon. Sofie was all that mattered. He needed to protect her.

“Wrong choice.”

BANG!

***

THE ENSUING MOMENTS WERE utter madness. Egan hadn’t been able to see straight when the highwayman had opened the door. Still couldn’t. He couldn’t hear straight either.

He remembered a few points. A small gun pointed straight at Sofie had gone off. His ears were ringing. The highwayman was lying on the snow covered ground, unconscious, but alive.

But Sofie was lying limp on the seat, eyes closed, clutching her book to her heart with one hand. One arm was hanging down.

He reached for her, looking for an injury. Felt for her pulse. There was a faint rhythm, but for the life of him he couldn’t be sure it was consistent.

A gunshot. How could he let someone shoot Sofie? Right in front of him? He felt his strength ripped away from him. First his own accident, now hers. Possibly leading to a much worse fate.

He didn’t care anymore about being strong for her. He didn’t care about holding anything back. He had only this moment, if that, to tell her anything and everything that was in his heart. He had no time to convince her that she was his, except he believed he did. So all he did was speak.

The thoughts rapidly firing in his head were each spoken aloud as he patted her, searching for the elusive gunshot wound. But a wound he knew only too well. His Sofie should never have to experience that. Recalling his own pain, he shuddered. And as he continued to pat her, he spoke aloud more thoughts than he had ever shared with anyone before. The most important being:

“Soife, your father needs you. You have to be alright.”

“I need you.”

“Don’t you realize that you have to meet my mother?”

“I’ll buy you all kinds of angels for tree toppers. Hell, I’ll make one every year for you, if you just wake up.”

“I’ll take you to every future convention on any lecture you desire. It could be in Orkney for all I care. I’ll take you.”

“You’ll be your own woman. You can have your own bank account. Don’t you know about the savings accounts in Scotland?”

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