Page 60 of Lady Frederica and the Scot Who Would Not
“How do you want to approach the club?” Carrington asked.
It took several swallows before Gabe could open his mouth to answer, but before he got any words out, a scream rent the night. He moaned like a wild animal at the sound of Freddy’s voice, and then a flood of energy fired though his body sending him racing toward her.
Footsteps pounded after him, but he was much faster than Carrington, whom he left behind. Years on the streets and in the ring dodging enemies had made him light of foot, despite his height and bulk.
Something flashed to his right.Light-colored silk skirts maybe?
He followed his gut, rounding the corner into a shadowy alley, and there she was, at the end, nothing more than a silhouette in the moonlight, but that silhouette was his whole heart. And at the site of her it thumped and expanded.
Hawk was stalking toward her. Gabe would know the man even in the darkest pits of Hell. He’d committed everything about him to memory—his stride, the sound his boots made when they hit the ground, the way he swung his arms and held his shoulders. He’d memorized that because if Hawk ever came to kill him, it had been the one exception to his vow that Gabe was willing to make, but now there were two more—Freddy and his child.
Gabe raised the pistol he’d readied when something clicked behind him. His blood froze in his veins.
Never leave your back unguarded when going into a dangerous situation.
Noise exploded, his ears rang, and a bullet tore a fiery path of pain through his left shoulder, shoving him forward and to his knees. Hawk turned, and Freddy lunged at him, only to be knocked backward when Hawk smacked her across the face.
Gabe reached down toward his second pistol, which he’d tucked into his boot. Just as his fingers grazed the cool metal of the weapon, someone grabbed him from behind. Roaring, he threw his right elbow back in a sharp, fast jab, hard bone cracking under the blow he delivered. Lord Brooke fell to the ground beside him, hands to his nose, writhing and grasping at his nose. For a breath, Gabe stared openmouthed at the man before he smashed his fist into his face once more. Brooke’s body went prone.
Gabe glanced up to reach for his pistol, and as he did, Hawk aimed his weapon toward Gabe.Too late.Gabe was going to be too late to save her. Behind him, a gun exploded, making Gabe flinch and swivel around to see Carrington standing, legs spread, and his pistol raised. Gabe jerked back around to find Hawk staggering and clutching his leg. Gabe bent and grabbed his pistol, rising as Hawk turned toward Freddy.
Without hesitation, Gabe raised his weapon once more, blood singing through every part of his body, and he fired straight at Hawk’s back. Gabe was running toward Freddy even as Hawk dropped his weapon, and fell beside her. Gabe scooped her up with his good arm and pulled her to his chest, her body shaking violently. A glance down at Hawk showed the man unmoving, eyes wide and unseeing, and his mouth open for words that would never be said.
“Freddy,” he whispered, her name a balm for his soul. He fisted his right hand in her hair and brought her face to his to cover her mouth. He couldn’t get her close enough, kiss her deep enough, hold her tight enough, and he wouldn’t have pulled away, but she did.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, yanking his cravat off his neck and tying it around his shoulder. In the distance, Blythe and Huntley joined Carrington, and they started toward Gabe and Freddy.
He had so much he wanted to say to her. He cupped her face. “Freddy, I love you. I’m so damned in love with you.”
“Good,” she said, crying and laughing. He kissed away the tears trailing down her cheeks. “I’m bloody well good and in love with you, too.” She kissed him again, then pulled back once more. “You watched my house. Why?”
He frowned. “How do you know—”
“Hawk. He had Brooke watching you, and Brooke reported it to him. Why did you do it?”
“I was afraid to give you my heart, Freddy, but damned if you didn’t take it the very night I met you.”
Much later that night, the door to Freddy’s bedchamber creaked open. She rolled over in her bed to look, and her breath caught as Gabriel’s profile appeared in the moonlight. He was shirtless and a bandage covered his left shoulder, which he’d assured her would be fine. He’d sent her home with Blythe from the scene in front of the Voltaire Club, and she had not argued, though she’d wanted to. In truth, she’d been shaken—she still was—but she had glimpsed in his eyes an urgent need to ensure she was safe, and she found she didn’t mind that one bit.
He came to her silently, his boots thudding against the hardwood as he kicked them off, and then the bed dipped with his weight. His heat immediately enveloped her as the long length of his hard, solid body pressed against her. His hand came to her stomach, his fingers splaying there, as he rested his head on her pillow. He smelled of gunpowder and whiskey.
“How do you feel?” He’d asked her a dozen times right after the shooting, but she didn’t mind that he wanted to ask her again. In fact, the concern and love in his voice filled her with a happy warmth.
“Tired, but good.” She rested her hand on top of his on her stomach. “How is your shoulder?”
“Sore, but I’ll live. I’ve endured worse.”
“I want to hear all about what you’ve endured.”
“All right, but first, did you eat when you arrived home as I suggested?” His concern made her smile at him in the dark.
“I ate a huge meal. I shall become very large.”
“Good.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder. “You’re eating for two.”
That truth still took her by surprise. “I’m sorry my plan ended as it did and that you had to break the vow you made to Georgette.”
He removed his hand from her belly and said, “Look at me.”
