Page 14 of The Hero

There was nothing in the coldness of his expression as he looked down his haughty nose at her to indicate he even remembered that kiss.

Harry moistened the dryness of her lips. “My father…?”

“Has fallen asleep,” he bit out dismissively.

She nodded. “Do you have any idea what happened?”

“Your father was shot.”

“I am aware of that part,” she snapped impatiently.

Gideon shrugged. “Your father told the doctor that he believes one of the hunters must have inadvertently mistaken him for a grouse or a deer.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at the manner in which Gideon voiced the explanation. “You sound…less than convinced by that explanation?”

“Your father believes it,” he dismissed.

“And yet my uncle says no one has come forward to claim shooting him by mistake.”

“No,” Gideon conceded before bowing. “If you will excuse me…” He moved to walk past her.

Harry reached out to grasp his forearm. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

A frown creased his brow. “I have told you what I know of the situation.”

She glared. “Have you?”

He stilled. “Would you care to explain that remark?”

She removed her hand. “Is it not obvious?”

“Not to me, no.”

She sighed. “My father saw us kissing yesterday evening. He obviously wished to talk to you this morning, and he now he appears to have been shot while attempting to seek you out.” That explanation had sounded better when it was made inside her head!

She wished she had kept it there as she watched Gideon’s expression turn stony, his eyes becoming a narrowed and flinty gray.

“I trust you are not insinuating that I shot your father because he had dared to question me regarding my having kissed you?” His voice was as cold as his gaze.

“Of course not,” she answered instantly. “At least, I do not believe you left the house this morning with the deliberate intention of shooting him,” she added lamely.

“I did not shoot him, deliberately, or otherwise.” There would be no point in Gideon doing that when he still needed to question the earl about his actions and whereabouts in the woods at Waterloo the previous year.

Not that Harry knew about any of that.

Gideon hadn’t even seen Dunhill earlier this morning. Much as he might have expected Dunhill would wish to talk to him about the previous evening, the older man had not been present at breakfast, nor when the gentlemen gathered in preparation for leaving the house for a morning’s shoot.

Gideon hadn’t known Dunhill was even in the woods. He had only heard a cry of pain before he ran, along with everyone else, to where they discovered Dunhill lying on the ground, his shirt and waistcoat covered in blood.

Truth was, Gideon’s thoughts had been so distracted that he hadn’t even fired his gun yet this morning when the hue and cry began deeper in the woods.

The reason for those distracting thoughts had just voiced the possibility he might be the one to have shot her father!

The conclusion of those earlier thoughts, away from the allure of Harry’s perfume, her beauty, and the fascination of her outspoken nature, had been that he must put all further idea of kissing Harry again aside and instead concentrate on the reason for his being in Bedfordshire at all. Namely, his search for Plymouth’s killer.

A decision that had been swept aside the moment Harry entered her father’s bedchamber a short time ago when Gideon had wanted nothing more than to sweep Harry up in his arms, before carrying her off to his bedchamber and kissing her until neither of them had breath left to breathe.

Having her accuse him of shooting her father had certainly put a damper on that desire.

---