One Shot for a Gentleman (Ladies Always Shoot First Book 3) Page 3
“Oh, Nathan.” She tossed the pistol aside.
The weapon bounced off a stone. A loud crack roared. Pain seared through Nathan’s calf. “Bloody hell!” He staggered backwards.
Delilah’s hands flew to her mouth.
Nathan caught his balance. Hot blood trickled down his leg. He clenched his teeth, determined to stay upright.
“Nathan?” Winston gaped. He turned to Delilah, incredulous. “You shot him.”
“I believe, in actuality, a rock shot me,” Nathan gritted out.
“A rock?” Miss Kirkland repeated, eyes wide.
“Nathan?” Delilah asked tentatively. “Is it bad?”
He shook his head and forced his jaw to unclench. “It will be better if you walk with me.”
She reached him in an instant and ducked under his arm. Her lithe form molded to his. Her warm body pressed to his side was the most marvelous sensation—worth getting shot, even worth getting up at the crack of dawn for. Only slightly marred by the searing pain in his calf.
“We best get you to a doctor,” Winston said.
“And you as well, to look at your back.” Miss Kirkland gazed up at him adoringly. “Half that tree fell on you.”
“It was nothing.” Winston stood straighter, adjusted his cuffs.
Nathan shook his head. He settled his arm more firmly about Delilah’s shoulder. This time, no one would drag him from her side. “Not to belabor the whole being shot business, but could you walk my horse down?” he asked his brother.
Winston raised his eyebrows, but nodded. He offered his arm to Miss Kirkland and they set off up the trail.
As soon as they dwindled from sight among the trees, Nathan turned to Delilah. Streaks of sunlight shimmered about her. The pain in his leg was nothing with the perfection of Delilah before him.
“I’m sorry I shot you,” she whispered.
“I’m happy you did. It means you love me. All Miss Kirkland managed was to drop a tree on Winston.”
Delilah shook her head as if he’d lost his mind, but her lips turned up in a smile. “I do love you, Nathan.”
That was all Nathan needed to hear. He started to remove his gloves.
She met his gaze through her lashes. “Is your leg bad? Do you wish me to examine it?”
“No, and no.” Nathan tossed his gloves to the ground.
“Then why remove your gloves?” she asked.
“To do this.” He took a handful of shimmering auburn curls and slid his fingers along the silkiness. “And this.” He tucked the curls back and he cupped her face in his palms.
Her lips parted in a soft gasp as he lowered his mouth to hers. Delilah twined her arms about him. The pain in his calf disappeared.
Epilogue
F or once, Nathan took as much care in dressing as Winston. He’d even visited the tailor for a new suit. After all, a man was obligated to look perfect on his wedding day.
Winston strode into his chambers, tugging at his cuffs. “I’ve come to make sure you don’t embarrass Miss Cartwell.” He looked Nathan up and down.
“Don’t be daft. Delilah wouldn’t care if I showed up in rags.”
Winston raised his eyebrows. “That would be going a bit far.”
“You only say that because you don’t know the depth of our affection.”
“I do. The love Lydia and I share matches it and goes beyond.”
“So you say, but she didn’t shoot you. Now that the bruises on your back have faded, you have no scar to prove her love.”
Winston scowled.
Nathan gave him a clout on the shoulder. “I jest. The world can see the girl loves you.”
Winston shrugged. “It isn’t that. Lydia sent over word from her uncle. He’s cut her from his will.”
“For marrying you?”
Winston nodded. “So much for all the talk of his love of family. The man has no redeeming qualities.”
“No loss, then. It isn’t as if you can’t afford to keep a wife, or she hasn’t a dowry.”
“I don’t care about the money.” Winston flashed an annoyed look. “And it wasn’t just her uncle. Her brother, the coward, also wrote. He’s le Fount’s right-hand man in business, you know.”
Nathan did know. With the world changing, more titled men were getting involved in trade and other ventures. Le Fount, one of the first, had created a mercantile empire, and Franklin Kirkland was his heir.
“Lydia’s brother said she is no longer a sister to him, if she weds me.”
“Again, no loss there.”
Winston nodded. “I’ve no use for Kirkland or le Fount, to be sure, but it’s upset Lydia, and on our wedding day.”
“Well then.” Nathan gave his cravat a final fluff, turning from the mirror. “Let’s not permit it to upset you as well. I’m sure she’ll soon forget it—once you show her that you are the source of all the happiness she requires.”
Winston nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. Anyhow, the carriage is ready when you are.” He strode from the room.
Nathan followed more slowly, thoughtful. He knew his brother didn’t miss the money. More likely, he really had thought that marrying le Fount’s niece would lessen or end the feud between their families. Nathan hoped that wasn’t a part of his brother’s affection for Miss Kirkland. Perhaps it would have been better if she’d shot Winston. Then he would know for certain that she cared.
Nathan mulled on that during the ride to the church, where the double wedding was to take place. He worried over it as they stood at the altar, waiting. His concern was allayed when Miss Kirkland entered. Love was written on her face, and on Winston’s.
Then Delilah stepped into view. Nathan forgot about worry or relief. In fact, he wouldn’t have noticed if everyone else disrobed and walked naked from the church.
Perfection. That was the only word to describe his Delilah. She met his gaze and smiled, and Nathan had to abridge his earlier thought. Not only perfect, but radiant. Elegant. Glorious. He loved everything about her. She was who he wished to wake to every day, for the rest of his life—even if that meant getting up with the sunrise every blessed day.
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Anything for a Lord
Ladies Always Shoot First
Book Four
Summer Hanford
Some mysteries are better left unsolved.
Free, at last, after the death of her controlling father, Victoria Kirkland must immediately find a husband or risk a forced marriage to her cousin. When he tries to compromise her, she turns to a brave, handsome stranger for help. Discovering a love so strong she doesn’t care to ask questions, she eagerly weds her savior, but soon learns that some mysteries are better off solved before you say I do.
Chapter One
Victoria didn’t know how long she’d stood motionless in the center of the parlor. The hands on the clock were stopped, the mirror over the mantel shrouded in black. It was as if time inside the manor on the bluff had halted the moment her father died. The only life in the room was the gentle flutter of the curtains, stirred by a soft sea breeze. She was alone, and no one could break through the barricade of unmoving time to reach her. Nor was there anyone who wished to. Victoria’s father, Edward Kirkland, Baron le Fount, had been an evil, cruel man. His passing wasn’t marked by tears, but rather with relief. For some, perhaps joy.
Her purposeless gaze fell on her writing desk, centered before a set of French doors flung wide to the rose-lined terrace and garden without. Victoria loved to linger before the open doors and watch the sea beyond the garden wall as salt-kissed air bathed her face. Perhaps, today, the breeze would soothe her.
Forcing her limbs into motion, she crossed to sit at her desk. Before her rested neatly arranged blank sheets, weighed in place by a coiled shell. Perhaps she would write her cousin Lydia, to congratulate her on her recent marriage. Father hadn’t permitted Victoria to write. When she’d tried, he had the letters taken.
Recalling his high-handed ways, she lifted her gaze to the gar
den. Sure enough, a tall form ducked from sight among the fruit trees that filled the lawn between the manor and the surrounding wall. She frowned. She should have known her cousin Franklin, the new Baron le Fount, would have her watched, just as Father had.
Elbows on the desk, Victoria dropped her head into her hands. With Franklin watching, it was useless to write Lydia. He would intercept any letters. By now, Lydia likely believed Victoria sided with Father and Franklin in disowning her for wedding Mr. Mitchel, son of one of Father’s greatest business rivals.
She looked to the clock again before remembering it wasn’t ticking. The only clock not stilled in honor of her father’s death was the one in her room, to remind Victoria that her life was moving forward. She longed for the hands to move more quickly.
Tomorrow, her wait would be over. She would be old enough to wed. She would leave the manor and marry the first decent man she found. She didn’t need to love him. All she required was a kind disposition, someone calm, with easy manners. Then he, whoever he was, would own the business ventures and the estate, all of it. He would lift the burden of living with Franklin as her guardian and become the manager of her father’s mercantile empire.
“Miss.”
Victoria turned to find a maid standing just inside the hall door.
“Miss, Baron le Fo--”
“She knows who I am, girl,” Franklin barked, stepping around her.
The maid jumped, nearly toppling in her effort to curtsy and back out at once. She whirled and scuttled away.
“No refreshments,” Franklin called down the hall after her. “We are not to be disturbed.” He faced Victoria, a looming scarecrow of a man, clad all in black. His white-blond hair, even paler than hers, hung limp about his ears. He slid the parlor door closed.
Victoria didn’t stand. She preferred to keep distance between them. “Franklin. Even though we’re cousins, it’s not appropriate for you to closet us.”
Gray eyes contemplated her. “What I have to say is for your ears alone. Your servants can’t be trusted. Besides, soon there will be no closed doors between us.”
“I beg your pardon?” A cold dread settled on her.
“I’ve given you ten days, Victoria, out of respect for your father, but it’s nearly your birthday. I will not have some worthless bounder swoop in and snatch you up. It’s time we wed.”
“I thought I made my feelings on the matter clear at the reading of Father’s will.” At the reading, Franklin had flown into a rage upon learning he’d been left only her father’s title and entailed lands. Not the business empire. Not the fortune.
“You were distraught.” He crossed to stand beside her. Hands braced on her writing desk, he leaned down, bringing his face too near. “You didn’t know what you were saying. You couldn’t comprehend the consequences.”
She comprehended perfectly. The man she wed would get everything Franklin believed should be his. Everything he’d worked alongside her father to build. She understood he’d toiled for years for her father. If there was the slightest shred of decency in Franklin, she would gladly marry him and set the matter right.
She held his gaze. “I am well aware of the consequences.”
“Are you?” His gray eyes narrowed. “I know about the special license.”
Victoria gasped. “How?”
“Who do you think gave your attorney permission to procure it for you?” His thin lips pulled in a sneer. “You didn’t think he’d secure one at your request? You, a mere woman?”
She had thought so. Now she knew better. She would dismiss the man.
Franklin reached out. Cold fingers stroked her cheek. “I let you have the license so we might use it on your birthday, pet.”
Nausea unfurled in her gut. She sucked air threw her nose, struggling to tamp down her revulsion. She knew how angry he could become.
“You’re a great beauty, Victoria. Your father kept you hidden from the world, but I shall display you as you deserve. We’ll move to London. You shall be celebrated, longed for.” His fingers slid down to her neck. “But only I shall ever touch you.”
Too late, she realized his intention. His fingers tightened around her neck, nearly encircling it. He leaned in to kiss her.
She twisted away. Her chair skittered out from under her. She collided with the floor and scuttled around the desk, putting it between them. The curtains reached out, plump with sea air, as if to envelop her. Victoria came to a halt against the threshold, breathing hard.
Franklin leaned over the desk, a scowl aimed at her. “Get up, you stupid girl. You could have cracked your head open, then—” He broke off.
Anger flared. “You’ve read my will, I take it?”
“Yes. I know you’ve left everything to my sister.” His thin lips twisted with rage. “You would hand her husband, a Mitchel, everything I’ve worked for.”
“I would.” Victoria had only fragments of overheard arguments to go on, but she knew her father and Franklin had plotted against their two greatest rivals. The Mitchel family and Lord Southwood had joined together against her father and Franklin, driving them to terrible acts. “Perhaps the money and holdings would make up for your schemes, and how you disowned Lydia.”
His gaze slithered over her, making Victoria’s skin crawl. “There will be no making up for anything because nothing will happen to you, pet. Your will isn’t needed. You’re a prize I’ve waited too long to pluck.” He started around the desk.
Victoria surged to her feet. She stumbled backward, through the door. She spun, her ankle twisting, and she grabbed an arbor to keep from falling. Thorns stabbed her palm. The sound of Franklin shoving her desk aside sent her running toward the wall and the seaside gate.
The thump of his boots followed. He was taller, faster, and her ankle throbbed. Victoria stifled tears. She needed her breath. She was nearing the open gate, a stone archway in the wall, though beyond stood only the bluff. She would fling herself from it if she had to. Anything to escape Franklin.
He caught her by the shoulder as she reached the gate, before she could set foot on the dusty path toward the ocean. A yank spun her. He clamped a hand on her other shoulder.
“Unhand me.” She tried to pull free. His fingers pinched like claws.
“You are mine, Victoria. It will go better for you if you accept it.” He yanked her toward him.
She thrashed against his grip, jammed her eyes shut, and twisted her head aside to prevent his mouth from touching hers.
“I think the lady is disinclined to receive your attentions,” a man’s voice said in clipped syllables.
Franklin stilled. Victoria snapped open her eyes and wrenched free. She staggered back against the wall, her breath ragged.
Her gaze caught on the pistol pressed against the side of Franklin’s neck. A gloved hand held it, attached to a coat-clad arm. The gentleman who owned that arm wasn’t as tall as Franklin, but was more solidly built. His too-long brown hair rioted in the breeze blowing in off the sea. His square jaw was set, his brown eyes narrow and fixed on Franklin.
Franklin’s gray irises darted toward the man. “Who are you?”
“A man who is not inclined to watch women be coerced.”
“This is between my future bride and me,” Franklin said. Sweat beaded on his forehead, emphasizing his pallor.
“I will never be your bride,” Victoria cried. “I will drown myself before I let you have me.”
The stranger snapped his head toward her, his surprise clear. His gaze slid back to Franklin. “That would be a great shame, and isn’t necessary.
AVAILABLE FOR PREORDER ON AMAZON
Other books in the Ladies Always Shoot First series
Captured by a Duke
Book One
To Save a Lord
Book Two
Anything for a Lord
Book Four
About the Author
Beginning in 2014, Summer Hanford was offered the privilege of partnering with fan fiction author Renat
a McMann on her well-loved Pride and Prejudice variations. To date, they have over twenty popular Pride & Prejudice Fan Fiction stories available, four of which are Amazon Best Sellers. In addition to her work with McMann, Summer is branching out into writing Regency works of her own, with a novel and several short story series upcoming from Scarsdale Publishing.
Born on a dairy farm in Upstate New York, Summer attended university for psychology and art, then went on to do two years each of graduate and doctoral work in Behavioral Neurology. She now lives and writes in Michigan, with her wonderful husband and three obligatory, deliberately spoiled, cats. For more about Summer, visit www.summerhanford.com.