Page 42 of Irresistible
Emotion?
“These things happen, my hummingbird,” he said, reining himself back under control. Missions were no place for emotion of any kind, even in the midst of an accident.Especiallyin that instance. Steady nerves and common sensemustprevail.
He brought his hands from her back and clasped her hands. Giving her a reassuring smile, he released her and stepped away, moving toward Gil.
“What happened when she fired?” Dougal cursed himself for his distraction with the ale. Because he’d been jealous. Proof that emotion could not be tolerated.
“I’m not certain. I said she was ready to fire at any moment. She pulled the trigger, and her arm went to the left—toward you.” Gil cast a worried look toward Jess. “Is Jessamine all right?”
“A bit shaken up, but she’ll be fine.” Dougal didn’t like Gil’s explanation. Jess had said he’d spoken, and she’d startled. Why would she have done that based on what he said? There was more to this. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t considering the notion that Gil had directed her to shoot in Dougal’s direction. What if he suspected Dougal was here to investigate him? What if Dougal had been wrong about Mrs. Farr? What if she was working with them and had sent the letter to the Foreign Office in order to get investigators here so Gil could assassinate them?
Dougal’s blood went cold. He’d never felt his mortality more keenly than in that moment. Thishadto be his last mission. For his father’s sake.
He looked to Jess, saw her pallid expression, and wondered if it would be her last mission too. He needed to get her away from there. “If you’ll excuse us, I think I’d better escort my wife to our chamber.”
“Of course,” Mary said, her brow deeply furrowed. She let go of her husband and hurried to Jess. “I’m so sorry. You mustn’t blame yourself. Accidents can happen. When I was first learning, I shot a tree by mistake.” She gave Jess a brief but substantial hug. “Please let me know if you need anything.”
Jess nodded. “Thank you.”
Dougal offered her his arm, which she took quickly and firmly—with both hands. They made their way up the path toward the house.
“What did he say to you that made you startle?” Dougal asked.
“I—I’m not sure. I’m having a hard time remembering.” She paused, then turned her head toward his. “It wasn’t what he said. It was his breath. I was so upset about nearly shooting you.” She squeezed his arm. “I forgot. He breathed on my neck, and it startled me. Plus, it smelled very strongly of onions and ale.”
“Should I call him out?” Dougal had an urge to laugh and an even stronger one to hit Gil.
“He didn’t do anything wrong, just annoying. I was too nervous.” Her shoulders drooped. “I feel like an utter failure.”
“Stop that. I won’t allow you to berate yourself.” He pulled her with him along the path, eager to get inside, lest someone come upon them. “I amfine.” He was getting there anyway. He wasn’t sure what had rattled him more, the near miss or the realization that hecouldn’tdo this anymore. “I won’t tolerate indulging scenarios that didn’t happen. It’s a useless endeavor. You learned something, yes?”
“Not to ever fire a gun again.”
They’d reached the garden and would be at the house in a few moments. “Nonsense, you must fire a gun again.”
She shook her head vigorously. “Absolutely not. I’m a menace.”
“Only if Gil is at your side. I will stand with you as I did the first time. You must regain your confidence, just as you did after that French business yesterday.” Dougal opened the door to the drawing room.
She released him and walked inside. Joining her, he grazed the small of her back with his hand and guided her toward the staircase hall. “This is hardly the same thing,” she protested.
“It is. You mustn’t discount yourself. I was incredibly impressed with your question on the beach about Napoleon. Very well done, getting Gil to comment so we could see what he thinks of the man.” He kept his hand at her back as they climbed the stairs.
When they reached the top, she paused. “You don’t have to keep doing that.”
“What?”
“Behave as if we’re married when there’s no one watching.”
“What am I doing?”
“Touching me.”
So he was. “I would do that for any woman I was climbing the stairs with.” Except that wasn’t true. He could think of times he’d ascended the Phoenix Club stairs with women he knew, and he hadn’t touched them in any way.
They continued toward their chamber. He sought to get back to their conversation about Gil. “I confess that after today, I’m inclined to think they are working for the French.”
“Because of the French gun?” she asked.
