by test
The carriage door was wrenched roughly open. She was still struggling with Kilworth, and Richard was pounding the shit out of his face. “Let go, Gemma,” he instructed, grunting as his fist made contact with Kilworth’s face again.
She couldn’t.
Richard probably thought that Kilworth had dropped the pistol and he had, but he was reaching for it, and Richard couldn’t see how close he was to it.
Kilworth’s fingers enclosed the steel. She looked up in time to stare into Hart’s glorious dark eyes.
And then, Kilworth fired.
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Chapter Twenty-Six
Pain exploded through her body. She went limp.
Richard caught her, and pulled her out of the way. Hart looked so enraged. He hauled Kilworth out of the carriage, and then, she heard another shot.
“The little fucker is dead,” Hart growled.
She felt cold. She’d been shot in the side.
“Gemma?” Hart sounded like he was losing it. He’d climbed up into the carriage and was reaching his arms out for her.
Mallory came into view. “Good God. Get the carriage turned around, I have a doctor on my ship.”
“We need to get her to Maeve,” Richard said, quickly handing her to Hart. “Get someone to turn this bloody carriage around!”
“Let me see! She’s my sister!” Ann’s voice rattled her even more.
Ann.
She would know what to do. Ann had spent a good deal of time with the village doctor aiding him when he needed it.
“Get Ann,” She rasped.
“I was so bloody stupid,” Hart muttered.
She shook her head.
Ann climbed up into the carriage, pushing her way past Richard.
Her eyes lit on Gemma and fear coalesced into their deep blue depths.
“Let me see the wound. I might be able to do something for her while we drive back to your family home. Mallory, you get the carriage moving. You, sit down!” She motioned to Richard, reaching back to shut the door.
“Your entire family is just like you, Gemma,” Hart whispered against her ear.
She smiled. She was so sleepy. “I love you, Hart,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
* * * *
When she woke up, she was looking into Hart’s eyes. People gathered around her bed. She recognized Mallory and Ann.
“She’s awake.”
“And she’s come through the fever, she’ll survive,” Maeve whispered, moving away from the bed.
“What happened?” She remembered Kilworth taking her, and then, she
remembered getting shot.
Damn.
“You are safe, sweetheart. And you’re on your way to a full recovery,” Hart whispered, brushing a lock of hair off her face. She smiled at him. “Now that’s the sight I’ve been waiting to see, those dimples of yours could brighten my day no matter how sad it was.”
“Richard?”
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“He’s resting in his chambers,” Hart answered gruffly, his eyes watering. Such a braw man, and filled with such passion. All of it was for her. She clasped his hand tighter. She loved Hart with all of her heart and soul. She would have been so mad if that bullet wound had done her in. It would have robbed her of a lifetime of happiness with Hart.
“Why did Kilworth take me?” She still felt weak, but she had to know the answer.
“I can answer that one.” Ann stepped forward. “He took you because his family is as poor as church mice. He wanted your dowry, and when Hart took you instead, he was incensed beyond reasoning. I knew he’d left England but I never dreamt he’d come for you in order to seek out retribution against our family. He also had the authorities after him for a more gruesome crime. You don’t need to know, dearest Gemma. It will only cause you undue grief.”
“Let’s just say, we were all right when we warned you against marrying that piece of filth,” Mallory said.
She knew he would be the one to say ‘ I told you so,’ and in a way, it didn’t rankle her as much as it might have once. She couldn’t argue the fact that Mallory and Hart had been right all along. She’d been foolish to think that a cold fish like Kilworth could ever give her the kind of love she craved from her husband.
He never could have loved her the way that Hart did.
She smiled at Ann. “You look tired. I think you should go and get some sleep.
You too, Mallory.”
“Aye. That sounds like a plan,” Hart agreed. “I’d like to spend some time just adoring my wife for awhile.”
“Adore her from a distance man, she’s still too weak to .…”
“Mallory!” Ann snapped. “Really. Of course he wouldn’t .…” her cheeks
flushed.
They all turned their heads at the sound of a knock on the open bedroom door.
“How is she?” Richard stood framed in the doorway with Charles on one side of him, and his mother on the other side.
“Unfortunately, I’ll live.” She smiled up at him.
“Glad to hear of it.” He grinned back at her, wincing. “My arm still hurts.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed,” Ann said, giving him a once over.
His smile grew broader, and she couldn’t believe it, but his dark eyes actually twinkled.
“Where’s Maeve?” she asked, her heart dancing at the look that Richard gave Ann. She didn’t really want Richard anywhere near Ann. He looked like a hungry wolf in the dead of winter.
“She’s resting. Didn’t you see her slip out of the room?” Hart asked. “She just wanted to see you wake up, and then, she said she was finished.”
“Well, I can understand why.”
“Indeed, Maeve is a very wonder. We couldn’t make do without her help.”
Margaret nodded her head.
“I could do with a nice hot cup of tea, with some of that stuff you put into it, Ann,” Richard said.
Ann sighed. “Go to hell, Richard.”
“I think I’m in love,” Richard sighed, causing them all to laugh.
“Come on, everyone, let’s leave Hart and Gemma alone. Upon my soul, I do
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believe they’ve earned their few minutes of privacy,” Margaret said, nodding her head curtly at everyone in the room. She pivoted on her heel, and walked out into the hall.
Mallory hesitated. “You are coming with me,” Ann muttered, tugging on
Mallory’s arm. “I’ll need you to keep me from killing Richard.”
“Do I have to?” he asked, as she dragged him from the room.
“Charles looked unusually happy,” Gemma mused. Hart climbed onto the bed to sit beside her.
“That’s because my mother has asked Mallory if Charles can stay with us for as long as he wants to, and Mallory has agreed. Your mother and sisters are on their way here as we speak. I think my mother is going to enjoy having a full house again.”
“And what about you?” she asked. “I see you resisted the urge to knock Mallory senseless.”
“Mallory and I found common ground. Try as he might to show that he doesn’t care one iota for you, he does love you, and he doesn’t want to see you hurt. We both sort of buried old grudges when we had to save you and Richard. Mallory was instrumental. Without him, I don’t know if we would have gotten past all of Kilworth’s men.”
“Yes, you would have. You alone would have breached through all of his awful blackguards. You were after me. And I know one thing, Hart MacKinnon,” she murmured.
“And what do you know?”
“That as my keeper, you’ll never let me come to harm.”
“You got shot in part because of me,” he pointed out, pulling her to him.
“But I’m alive.”
“And as for being your keeper—I am only the keeper of your heart, I learned almost as soon as we met, that keeping you from doing anything you didn’t w
ant to do was going to be the most difficult battle I’ve ever faced,” he stated ruefully.
She chuckled. “Well, then, keeper of my heart, why don’t you kiss your wife?”
“I would be glad to,” he murmured, devouring her lips.
Gemma twined her arms around his neck. She had found her own heaven on
Earth, and he owned her heart.
Hart was her anchor in life, and he would be until the end of her days—and
beyond.
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Epilogue
Lady Maud St. Martin walked along the beach, luxuriating in the glorious feelings of the water crashing over her bare feet. If Mallory knew she was this far away from the house, he would go berserk. Fortunately, they’d be returning to Skylark Castle soon to visit Gemma and Hart.
A moan carried on the wind made her heart quicken. She looked down the beach at what looked like debris that had washed up on one of the tides. Quickening her step, she transitioned from a quick walk into an all out run. Something red caught her eye.
She skidded to a halt, slipped in the wet sand and fell to her knees. The wind hadn’t moaned, a person had, and by the looks of it, that person was a man. He was lying facedown in the sand. Rolling him over, she gasped at the sight of his bright red hair.
He groaned again, finally opening his eyes. A moment or two passed where they just regarded each other.
When his hand reached up and grasped her wrist tightly, she screamed. He pulled her down to him.
“Are you English?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Thank God. My name is Joseph, and I need your help.”
The End