Page 150 of Their Master

“Selkirk!” Clayton hissed, the hand with the pistol wavering. His eyes slid to Moira and he hesitated.

The new man—Selkirk—made a clucking sound. “You’ll be dead before you can even take aim.”

“You wouldn’t dare! You know what will happen if you kill me,” Clayton said, smiling smugly.

“Selkirk might care about that, but I don’t, Clayton.” The calm, familiar, voice came from behind Grimes.

“Put the gun down,” Smith said, entering the room, pushing Grimes ahead of him.

The bigger man stumbled and fell to his knees, which is when Moira saw his hands were tied behind his back.

“You stay down or I won’t hesitate to put you down permanently,” Smith said to the fallen man, his eyes on Moira.

“You’ll get no struggle from me, guv,” Grimes said.

“You filthy coward,” Clayton snarled, glaring at his henchman.

“Put the gun on the table,” Smith said.

Clayton took a step back and set the gun down.

“Good lad.” Selkirk’s lips twisted into an amused smirk. “Step away from it.”

Clayton stepped back.

“Are you hurt?” Smith asked Moira, closing the distance between them in two strides, his brow furrowed with concern.

Moira shook her head, too stunned to speak.

Smith caught her up in a bone-crushing embrace, his voice low and husky, his arms like steel bands. “Thank God, Moira. I was so—”

“Let go of her!”

They both jolted and Smith half-turned at the sound of Charles’s voice.

The younger man stood in the far corner of the room, holding the revolver he’d had earlier at Moira’s house—which must have been on his person somewhere—and pointing it a Moira, or at least trying to. His hands were shaking too badly to settle his aim anywhere.

“What are you doing, Charles?” Smith asked calmly, easing his body in front of Moira, whose hands had already moved to protect her baby, as if they could stop a bullet.

“This all happened because you just never have enough!” Charles shouted, his voice raw with fury and pain.

“You can stop it right now—before somebody dies, Charles.”

“I shot your other lover—I’ll hang for what I did.”

“The doctor removed the bullet, which didn’t hit anything critical. With bedrest he will be fine in a few days.”

Moira wanted to weep at his words; thank God!

“You’ll be glad about that, won’t you?” Charles shouted. “He can be warming your bed again soon.” He laughed wildly. “Step out from behind him, Moira.”

Before Moira could move Smith reached behind him with both his arms and held her.

“No.”

“I’ll shoot if you don’t move, Smith!”

“Do it,” Smith said.

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