Page 26 of Crash Landing
Someone was lurking outside.
He set down the pot, rose, and had taken a step toward the window when he caught the glint of metal.
“Florence, get down!” He shoved her down and threw himself atop her, knocking over the tea cart and all its contents in the process.
The pot smashed, spilling cocoa all over the two of them, the settee, and the carpet. Then…nothing.
Silence.
Florence lay flat on her stomach, her face buried in the seat cushion while his big body lay atop her.
“That was close. Are you all right, Florence?” He eased up the slightest bit, and grunted as she elbowed him in the gut while turningaround to face him. But this left the full length of his front facing the full length of hers for just that moment before he raised himself off her.
However, it was a moment too late, and this was how Timmons and the two footmen who raced in behind him found them…him still atop her.
“Dear heaven,” Timmons muttered, the sight of them halting him in his tracks.
Trajan knew there was no extracting himself from his and Florence’s betrothal now.
He rolled onto the floor and groaned, landing in more wet cocoa that had seeped into the carpet.
Timmons would not stop gaping at him. “Your Grace…I…I…”
Yes, the butler now believed him to be a maniacal fiend who could not keep his wicked paws off the innocent beauty. “This is not what it appears. I was protecting Lady Florence.”
“Kindly explain how landing atop me with your crushing weight protected me,” Florence remarked, now humiliated and probably seething with anger. She would have cracked the pot of cocoa over his head were it not already shattered and leaving a mess all over the floor.
“There was a man pointing a pistol at us just outside the window.”
“Really?” Florence sat up sharply, and a trail of cocoa seeped down the front of her gown. She ignored it and shot to her feet. “Then what are we doing just standing here and staring at each other? Let’s find him. There had better be fresh footprints by the window, or…”
“Or what?” Trajan asked.
“I shall shoot you myself,” she said with determination.
“Isn’t that a little harsh, Florence?”
“Maybe,” she grumbled in acknowledgment, “but my gown is ruined.”
“Which would you have preferred me to protect, the hot cocoa or you?”
Chapter Five
As it turnedout, not only did Trajan find fresh boot prints, but the window also had scratch marks around the latch to indicate someone had tried to break in. Since Florence, Timmons, and the two footmen had come outside with him, the two footmen holding torches above their heads in order to shed light on the scene amid the darkness, they now deemed him exonerated.
He was relieved not to be thought of as a fiend who accosted innocent maidens for his own lurid ends.
“You are forgiven,” Florence muttered once they had all walked back inside.
“Shall we search for the trespasser, Your Grace?” one of the footmen asked.
“No. The man will be long gone by now, and I do not need him shooting any of you if you happen to stumble upon him in the darkness. Leave it until tomorrow and hopefully the hunting dogs will pick up his scent.”
Trajan suspected the man’s trail would lead them straight to Frampton’s home. If so, they were better off approaching in broad daylight. Frampton would not attempt anything when witnesses were around.
“I shall notify Mrs. Albright to wake her maids and have them clean up the mess in the library,” Timmons remarked.
“Yes, a good idea.” Trajan would have to replace the damagedfurniture if the stains set in and could not be washed out. “Advise her to take Lady Florence’s gown to be cleaned once she changes out of it.”
