Page 84 of The Moonstone Pirate
“I shall treasure them,” she said in a whisper, casting him a hesitant smile. “I wasn’t jealous of Lady Dowling.”
“You weren’t?” He glanced at the three strawberry tarts in front of her.
She managed another small smile. “No, I wasn’t going to eat myself sick with jealousy.”
“Then you’ll share them with me?” he teased. “They look delicious.”
She nodded. “Draco, it wasn’t about her. Truly. In fact, I pity her. When Lady Dowling first came to this village, everyone welcomed her. She is beautiful, and at the time she was a young widow, no more than a couple of years older than Aunt Phoebe. We all wanted to help her establish roots here and make a new life for herself. But it wasn’t long before we realized she has a streak of malice in her. She simply cannot bear to see others happy. Perhaps she never found love for herself and resents everyone who has done.”
She reached for the box and cupped it gently in her hands. “What hurt me is that she had gotten it so wrong about you and me. She was all over you because she thought you were falling in love with me.”
“And you think she was wrong, Butterfly?”
She stared at him again. “Yes, Draco. I’m not sure what you feel for me, but I do not think it is love. Affection. Friendship. You cannot even say the word ‘love,’ because this is not what you feel for me yet. Perhaps in time, but not now. So please do not give me hope if there is none. My heart knew you were the one for me the moment we met, which is ridiculous, since we were still wearing our masks and could not see each other’s faces. How can one know so quickly and be so certain? Yet it was this way for me.”
He wanted to admit he felt the same, but was this not the very thing he needed to avoid? A betrothal would only complicate matters. He had felt lightning bolts shoot up his arms the moment he wrapped them around Imogen’s waist to help her out of her uncle’s carriage on the night of the masquerade ball. When her mask came off, his heart was lost.
“You know I am a cautious fellow.”
“Yes, it ought to be so when it comes to something as important as marriage,” she agreed, “and that is wise of you. I am not chiding you for it. However, you are not cautious by nature.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not?”
“No, you are far more adventurous than I would ever be when it comes to everything else in your life.”
He leaned toward her, resting his arm upon his thigh. “I intend to leave my days of adventure behind me once this assignment is over. I have other responsibilities now that I must address, and this requires me to remain in England.”
“Draco, do you think you are ready to settle down to a staid life?”
He chuckled. “Depends on how staid. I am not going to spend my days with my nose buried in a book, as my uncle has done. But there’s a compromise to be had between sailing around the world to engage in combat on the high seas and sitting in a library for hours on end.”
“Yes, that is true.” She tucked the pretty box in her reticule. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
He nodded. “Are we all right, Imogen?”
“Yes.” She pushed her chair back and rose. “I’ll let Deandra know to come back now. Oh, goodness. Why is Parrot suddenly barking so furiously? I wonder what is going on.”
“Blast.” His dog never barked like that unless there was trouble. Draco leaped to his feet. “Stay here. Let me go to him. I’m the one who—Bloody hell!”
He noticed a glint of metal against the window and instinctively threw his body over Imogen, knocking her down just as a shot rang out. It smashed the tea shop window, sending a spray of glass toward them. Ladies screamed. Everyone panicked. Draco felt something hot tear through his arm as he shielded Imogen from the flying glass and knew he’d been struck by that shot.
He ignored the fiery jolt of pain, shook the shards off, and then lifted himself off Imogen, intent on chasing down the culprit. “Stay down, Imogen. I’m not certain it’s safe yet.”
But a quick inspection of the street revealed it to be empty, save for a rider on an impressive horse fleeing north on the high street. Draco immediately thought of Healey and Burke…or perhaps one of Driscoll’s friends, for no commoner could afford so fine a horse.
Constable Angel raced in. “Lord Woodley! You’re hurt!”
“No, I’m fine. Go after him. He rode north.” Draco gave a quick description of the stallion—a chestnut Friesian, if his eyes did not deceive him. But he had made out nothing of the rider, who was cloaked in black and wore a hat tugged low over his forehead. “Parrot will lead the way. Take him with you,” he said, helping a shaken Imogen to her feet.
“I’m all right,” she insisted. “Do what you must.”
He was about to ask someone to fetch Parrot when the little beast tore into the tea shop. “Parrot, sit!”
The dog obeyed, although obviously unhappy with the command. But Draco could not allow him any closer or risk cutting his paws on the shards of glass strewn all around them.
He left Imogen’s side a moment to lead Parrot around the back onto the high street. “Go with Constable Angel,” he whispered in the dog’s ear. “Catch the man who shot me.”
Parrot whimpered and licked his hand, which had a thin trail of blood now seeping down it.
