Page 65 of My Wicked Earl
He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against the knuckles. “A bit of the truth, then.”
She remembered every detail of that day, for she dreamt of it often enough. Her gown was of light blue muslin with daisies gracing the skirt. The slippers she wore matched, with tiny daisies decorating the toes. Of course, the slippers were ruined. Blood splattered the daisies, dotting the tiny fabric petals. The blood on Archie’s lapel. He’d looked so surprised.
“I -I had a new bonnet. With green ribbon. I’m not sure why that seems so important, but I can still see that ribbon trailing in the wind. My bonnet fell off, you see, when I shot him.”
The stone façade of Helmsby Abbey loomed again before her as she sprinted up to her rooms to retrieve the pair of pistols in her valise. The smell of her own sweat filled her nostrils as she cursed those ridiculous slippers, wondering why she hadn’t worn a sturdy pair of walking boots for her trip to the village.
“When – when,” she took another breath, remembering the smoke that had billowed out of the barn that day. “When we arrived at the house, the servants were struggling,screamingto get out of the barn. He’d locked them all inside. He meant for them to burn. Sutton yelled for the groom that accompanied me to the village to open the barn doors. We heard Alex scream,” she shook her head slightly, “and that’s when Sutton took one of the carriage horses and rode into the woods.”
The servants of Helmsby Abbey, many of them elderly, fell through the barn doors, choking and gasping for breath.
“I almost didn’t bring my pistols. They were a matched set. I was so proud of them. I meant to show Alex how I could hit the tip of a tree branch from several yards away. At the time, I thought I was being foolish.” Her voice was shaking. Her mind often relived the what ifs of that day. What if she hadn’t brought her pistols? What if Sutton hadn’t come to Hampshire and instead stayed in Macao?
She still smelled the scent of the forest, felt the way the wet leaves slid beneath her feet as she ran toward the sound of Alex screaming. The thought that she would never be able to wear the pretty daisy slippers again for the mud ruined them. Before the blood.
“Who taught you to handle a pistol?” Colin’s hand trailed along her thigh to pull her closer into the shelter of his arms.
“Sutton. I begged him, when Archie returned to London. Nagged him every day until he took down one of Father’s old pistols and showed me how to clean and load it. He allowed me to shoot in the garden when Mother was out. I destroyed the birdbath.” Her eyes began to fill with tears and she couldn’t stop it. “My father’s favorite birdbath. The only thing my mother ever brought from Italy that he loved.”
“Sutton is a terrible shot.” A kiss pressed against her temple. “It was Nick, wasn’t it?”
Miranda nodded slowly. “Sutton taught me to shoot, but Nick made me practice, until he left for Bermuda. He worried because he was leaving, and he had to go. Grandmother told him he must. After that, I practiced on my own. Sometimes Bevins helped. Did you know that Bevins had been in the army? He fought in France.”
“I have renewed respect for Bevins.” His pulled her closer until her head lay against his shoulder. “I have you, Miranda. It’s all right.”
Wetness slid down her cheeks at the gentle words. She hadn’t cried truly, about theincident. Not really. In fact, she’d cried more over Colin than shooting Archie Runyon. A deep heaving gulp of air filled her chest.
“Miranda,” the sound of her name was gentle. “Few men would ever have been as brave as you, love. I am in awe of you.”
She trembled, her fingers playing at the collar of his shirt, plucking at the fabric. The words tumbled from her lips as she gasped and sobbed.
“Alex was begging for my brother’s life, Colin. Pleading with Archie to spare him even as that- thatmonsterthreatened to cut the baby out of her womb.”
“Oh, Miranda.” He pressed a kiss into her hair. “That’s enough, love. Enough.”
Colin’s fingers trailed up and down her back, rocking her gently against him as she wept. One hand moved to thread through her hair as he murmured words of comfort.
“I knew what Archie was capable of. When I came upon them in the woods, Archie waslaughing. He thought my brother was dead. I – I thought Sutton was dead. And Alex-” Miranda wiped at her eyes. “That bastard was so busy taunting Alex, saying horrible things to her, that he never heard me approach. I didn’t hesitate. I shot him.”
“Shh.”
“My bonnet flew off my head when I shot him. He was so surprised. He shook his head at me before he poked his finger in the hole I’d made with the pistol. He always told me I was just an ornament to be hung on some gentleman’s arm. I think that’s why he was surprised.” She wasn’t making sense, she knew it, and still she could not stop talking.
“Yes.” He wrapped his body around hers, as if to shelter her from the horror of that day. “It’s all right now. I have you.”
“I’m an excellent shot.” The words barely left her mouth before she began to sob violently, her entire body shaking. She cried until there was nothing left, pouring out her pain and fear until Colin’s shirt lay damp beneath her cheeks.
It felt so good to finally tell someone everything. “I think I’ve ruined your shirt.”
“I have others.” He released her hand, but not his hold around her waist.
The light of the fire threw Colin’s features into shadow, hiding the scar and for a moment he looked as he did years ago.
Reaching up, he gently tucked one errant, ebony curl back behind her ear, allowing his finger to linger against her cheek.
“Breath, Miranda. It’s over. You are safe.”
Snuggling closer to Colin, her entire body gave a sigh of pleasure. This was where she always wished to be, safe in the warmth of Colin’s embrace, with his heart beating strong beneath her cheek.
