Page 61 of Sinfully Mine
The twitching of Martin’s eye became that much worse, the lid nearly closing completely. The hand clutching the pistol trembled and lowered.
“Hester. My darling Hester.” Tears ran down his cheeks. “Finally, you understand.”
“I do,” she said, as Drew rushed past her and slammed into Martin, knocking him to the floor. Drew had grown up with two brothers and knew how to throw a punch, but Martin fought like a wild animal, gnashing his teeth and making the most horrible noises.
The two wrestled across the floor, each struggling to gain control of the pistol. She’d hoped Drew could draw the blade in his coat, but he had no opportunity. Hester grabbed the shard of pottery off the bed, meaning to stab Martin with it when Drew hit him in the temple, twice. The pistol finally fell from Martin’s fingers and skidded across the floor.
He growled, rolling over with inhuman strength. He grabbed Drew and wrapped his fingers around his throat.
Drew desperately tried to throw Martin off.
Hester jumped to the side and grabbed the pistol. She’d never fired one, but she could handle a rifle. It couldn’t possibly be that much different. “Get off him,” she said, pointing the pistol directly at Martin. “Now.”
“Hester, my darling,” Martin implored her, his fingers loosened their hold but were still wrapped around Drew’s neck. “What are you doing? Shoot the bugger. I’ll burn the cabin. No one will ever find the body. We can be wed tonight. In Lincoln. I have the license.”
Drew came up on his shoulders and butted his skull into Martin’s nose.
Martin shrieked, blood pouring from his nose. “Hester. Darling Hester.”
“I told you I grew up with two brothers,” Drew snapped before twisting away and kicking Martin in the chin with the heel of his boot. “Stay put.”
“No.” Martin tore at his hair, hands covered in blood and attempted to get to his feet.
Drew kicked him again.
“Hester, what are you doing?” Martin sobbed, snot and blood pouring down his chin. “You love me.” He banged his hand against the floor like a toddler having a tantrum. He shot Drew a murderous look, left eye twitching along with one side of his mouth.
“May I?” Drew plucked the pistol from Hester’s shaking fingers. “Though I find the sight of you wielding a pistol to be highly erotic, it would be best if I handled this part. I’m quite good with a pistol.” He looked at the slobbering mess of Martin on the floor. “Much better than you, Godwick. The way you were waving it about, you were just as likely to shoot yourself. If you don’t stop whining I’ll shoot the tips of your ears off.”
Martin jerked back.
“Or a finger. Perhaps your knees—or something else.” The pistol hovered below Martin’s waist.
“Drew,” Hester cautioned. “Please do not.” She glanced at Martin who had fallen to the floor and was spinning himself about with one foot while holding his broken nose. “What do we do now?”
“We wait.” Drew’s gaze and the pistol never moved from Martin. “Mr. Stone doesn’t care for you at all, Godwick. I had a lovely chat with him earlier today, which is how I found this cabin. He also sent for the constable, who I expect at any moment.”
Hesterhadwondered how Drew came to find her. She’d forgotten all about Martin’s clerk, Mr. Stone.
“Stone’s a terrible clerk. I should have fired him after he forwarded my father’s letter to you, Sinclair.” He jerked towards Hester but stopped at the sound of the pistol cocking.
“I really do want to shoot you, Godwick.” Drew’s voice simmered with rage. “So please, keep moving about.”
Martin pounded the floor again with his fist as the sound of horses approaching filtered into the cabin. “Darling Hester.” He leapt in her direction.
The sound of the pistol firing stopped him.
“I did warn you,” Drew said casually.
Martin squealed in pain, clutching his foot. “I’ll kill you.”
“I doubt it. Those horses undoubtedly belong to the constable. You should wrap your cravat around your foot to stop the bleeding.”
“I trusted you, Hester,” Martin sobbed as the chief constable and two others, including Mr. Stone, came through the door, their own weapons drawn. “Arrest this man. I’m Martin Godwick. He shot me in the foot.”
The constable looked at Drew. “I know who you are, Mr. Godwick.”
Drew lowered his pistol and quickly grabbed the blanket from the bed to cover her. She’d completely forgotten she had on only a chemise. He explained what had happened in the cabin and what Godwick had done and planned to do.
