by Aileen Fish
Laurel nodded.
“But they shot Gabriel, grazed his arm as far as I can tell. He can’t have been too badly wounded because he took off after Lord Malinor’s phaeton... well, perhaps he took off after him. I can’t be sure about that either. Amos, the big ox, blocked my view.” She let out a resigned sigh. “That’s why I need to know more about the ill feelings between Gabriel and Lord Malinor.”
Laurel held her response as Billings, her elderly butler, scuttled in. She asked for refreshments and the damp cloth, then waited for him to bustle out before returning her attention to Daisy. She pursed her lips and frowned. “I wish I had answers to give you, but I haven’t heard anything about bad blood between them.” She glanced at Daisy’s hands. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned that word. Where is Billings with that cloth?”
It didn’t take long for the efficient butler to return. Daisy quickly wiped her hands clean while Laurel poured a cup of tea for each of them. “Go on,” Laurel urged when they were once more alone. “Tell me everything else that happened.”
“There isn’t much more to tell.” Daisy’s hands were cold and trembling, so she wrapped them around the teacup to warm them. “We were all in the park. Gabriel joined us. Someone took a shot—several, I think—possibly aimed at Lord Malinor, but Gabriel was hit.”
Suddenly, there was a commotion at the door and on cue, as though she were in a sensational stage play, Gabriel strode in. His gaze instantly went to hers. “Damn it, Daisy. What are you doing here?”
“I might ask the same of you.” But she rose and hurried to him, for he was clutching his arm and blood was running down his fingers. “Sit over here.” She pointed to a footstool beside the fireplace. She then hurried out and ordered Billings to fetch a basin of water, more clean cloths, and a bottle of whiskey. “Not Lord Graelem’s finest. Any will do. It isn’t for drinking purposes. And send a footman off to fetch Uncle George. He’ll need his medical bag. Send another to find Lord Graelem.”
Daisy hurried back to Gabriel’s side, surprised but pleased that he’d followed her instructions and settled onto the stool. She thought it odd that Laurel had remained in her chair, doing nothing more than eyeing her and Gabriel curiously. Laurel was as meddlesome as any Farthingale in existence. So why was she sitting there silently, doing nothing to assist Gabriel?
She turned her attention back to him. He wore a prideful, stubborn glower on his face that warned he would not obey any more of her commands.
Stubborn dolt! She was going to fix him up whether he wanted it or not, and he was sadly mistaken if he believed that she gave a fig about his strong, silent, I’ve-been-shot-but-will-bear-it-with-manly-grace look. She knelt beside him, for the footstool was low and she could better treat his wounded arm in this position. “Can you remove your jacket? Here, let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” he said, pain punctuating every word. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
“All the more reason to stop acting like a little boy in knee pants and do as I say.” She reached for his good arm first and helped him to shrug out of the sleeve. Then she eased the jacket off his injured arm. There was a hole in the fabric, just below his shoulder where the bullet had struck. The blood around the hole was still wet, not dry and caked, which meant his wound was deeper than he had let on and still oozing.
The shock of dark red against the stark white of his Savile Row shirt sent a shiver up her spine. “Now for your shirt,” she said, swallowing hard.
He glanced between her and Laurel, his gaze coming to rest on her. “No.”
Since he wasn’t the modest sort, she realized that he was thinking of her modesty, which was ridiculous since he’d already seen her breasts and explored them... well, now was not the time to think about that wondrous experience. By the sudden, hot smolder in his eyes, she knew his mind had wandered along the same path. Heat rushed into her cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re still bleeding.”
“I don’t care. What does Lady Forsythia’s rule book say about sipping tea in your cousin’s salon with a shirtless man? I’m sure it is written in big, bold letters, DON’T.”
“First of all, I’m not sipping tea. Second, this is my sister’s salon. Third, you aren’t shirtless yet, but you will be in another moment, and I’m sure the rule book would say to do whatever one must to save an injured man, even if said man is an arrogant and infuriating rakehell. Especially if that rakehell just saved one’s little cousin,” she added, letting out a soft breath.
“Well said, Daisy.” Laurel smirked as she turned to Gabriel. “You may as well give up. She’s clearly won this battle. And before you tell me to mind my own business, which I can tell by your expression, you are about to say, keep in mind that if she doesn’t tend to your wound, I will. However, I won’t be anywhere near as gentle as Daisy. I’ll take a hot poker to your shoulder and simply burn that wound shut. And if you dare say another word about your delicate sensibilities—of which you have none—or of my sister’s delicate sensibilities—apparently, when it comes to you, she has none either—I will take that hot poker and stick it somewhere up your body that will really hurt.”
Laurel then smiled sweetly and popped a scone into her mouth.
Daisy struggled to suppress her laughter, but that struggle ended with her emitting a string of very unladylike snorts. Gabriel shook his head and grumbled, but ultimately cast her an endearing grin. “Very well, I surrender. You may have your wicked way with me, Daisy Farthingale.” He paused a moment and then his grin broadened. “I beg you, be gentle.”
She managed a hesitant smile back, understanding that he was teasing her. “I’ll do my best.”
In truth, she was shamefully eager to put her hands on him, to cleanse his wound, first and foremost. But she also wanted to feel his warm skin against her fingers, to touch him and make him feel as exquisite as she’d felt with his hands and mouth on her breasts the other night.
“We’ll compromise,” Gabriel said, clearing his throat and seeming to wince as she began to unbutton his shirt. “Leave it. Just tear off the sleeve.”
She nodded, relieved that he’d made the suggestion, for her heart was already in palpitations and she was in grave danger of swooning. She’d drop to the floor like a stone the moment he removed his shirt. “Brilliant. Excellent idea. I should have thought of it.” Of course, she had and immediately dismissed it because a bare-chested Gabriel was a fantasy she’d hoped would come true... oh, dear. Her heart was palpitating again.
She shot to her feet as Billings walked in with the supplies she’d requested. “Ah, good man.” She took the bottle of whiskey and clean cloths from him, then motioned for him to set the basin and pitcher of water on a small table beside the fireplace.
She spared a glance at Gabriel. Blood still slowly dripped from his wound, fortunately landing on the polished stone surrounding the hearth and not on Laurel’s expensive Aubusson carpet. “Perhaps we ought to have done this in the kitchen,” Daisy mumbled.
“And scandalize my cook and scullery maids?” Laurel shook her head and laughed. “No, much safer here where I can properly chaperone the two of you. I have my eye on that poker and will not hesitate to use it on Gabriel if he steps out of line.”
What about me? Daisy was in peril of ravaging Gabriel. She returned to his side, kneeling too close to him and reveling in the glorious heat radiating off his body and the subtle scent of musk and sweat along his throat. Great balls of cheese! She really wanted to do thoroughly inappropriate things to his body.
She placed her hand on his arm to tear away the sleeve and groaned softly as her knuckles grazed hard muscle. Truly, she was in serious danger of mauling the poor man. What was it about him that set her body off like fireworks?
Everything.
Silently berating herself, she tore off his sleeve, tossed it into the fire, and quickly rose to dunk a cloth into the basin. Laurel was on her feet and had already poured water into the basin. “Thank you,” she said.
She took a long breath, for her heart was furiously beating again. And wasn’t it awfully warm in here? She and Gabriel were close to the fire, which was the logical reason for her discomfort. However, the parts of her that were fiery hot and smoldering could not possibly feel heat from those flames. “This will sting quite a bit, Gabriel.”
She poured whiskey onto a fresh cloth and applied it to his now clean wound. He covered her hands with one of his as they began to shake. “You’re doing a fine job, Daisy.”
She let out a soft, quivering breath as his deep, gentle rumble washed over her. “I think you’ll need stitches. Where’s Uncle George? Why isn’t he here yet?” She wrapped one of the cloths around his wound now that it had been properly cleaned. In no time, a dark red stain spread across the white cloth. “You’re still bleeding.” She hastily unwrapped the cloth, tucked a thicker square of cloth beneath it, and bound the first cloth tightly about his arm once more. “How are you feeling? A little lightheaded?”
He cast her a tender gaze. “Only a little. You needn’t fret. I’ll survive.”
“I hope so.” She pursed her lips and cast him a scowl that quickly faded to a look of worry. “What happened in the park? Who shot at you? Or did they mean to hit Lord Malinor?”
“I don’t know, Daisy. Graelem will report the incident to the Prince Regent and he’ll order a royal investigation.”
She nodded. “It isn’t every day an attempt is made on the life of one of his ministers... or one of his rakehell friends. But why must you wait for Graelem to report it? I’ll ring for Billings to fetch you some notepaper, quill, and—”
“Prinny and I are on the outs at the moment,” Gabriel interjected. “That’s why I came in search of Graelem. I need him to pay a call on Prinny.”
Daisy shook her head, recalling her earlier conversation with Auguste Malinor. He’d indicated that very thing, but it still rang false to her. “You’re on the outs with him? When did this happen?”
He shrugged. “This afternoon.”
Her eyes narrowed, for she was angry and hurt that he sought to dismiss her so casually with yet another of his lies. “How is it possible? You were with me at sunrise, with your grandmother in the late morning, with me again at the regimental headquarters in the early afternoon, and not an hour later with me again in the park.”
Laurel quirked an eyebrow. “You’re spending quite a good deal of time with my sister.”
“Unintentional, I assure you.” He ran a hand roughly through his hair and scowled. “I don’t have to account to you for my precise movements.”
“I never said you did, but I’d much rather you tell me to mind my own business than spout lies to me.”
He shrugged again. “Very well, none of your business.” He turned to Laurel. “None of yours either. I mean it, Laurel. If the pair of you dare open your mouths about this affair, you’ll put me and Graelem in danger.”
Daisy rushed to Laurel’s side when her sister paled. “Laurel, sit down,” she said gently, now truly angry with Gabriel for frightening her sister while she was in her delicate condition. However, even she was surprised by her sister’s sudden weakness, for Laurel was all fire and spit, and nothing ever frightened her. She supposed it was Laurel’s love for Graelem that had suddenly turned her blood cold, the mere thought of losing the man she loved clearly rattling her.
Daisy turned to Gabriel, her hands curled into fists. “We’ll keep your horrid secrets. Even though I don’t trust you”—but I love you—“I do trust Graelem. He would never betray his country, so whatever intrigue the two of you are involved in must be on behalf of the Crown. But you’re wrong to keep the truth from us. How can we protect you unless we know what’s going on?”
He frowned at her. “You can’t. Don’t even try. Who else must get shot to make you understand?”
She let out a little huff, but made no further comment. She was worried about Laurel, who appeared even more shaken than before. “You’re ashen. Why don’t you go upstairs and rest?”
“No, you can’t stay alone with Gabriel.”
“Nonsense. Uncle George will be along soon, and even if he is a little delayed, there’s no harm done. I’m spitting angry and not kindly disposed to him right now.” She turned to Gabriel, intending to scowl at him, but forgot all about her anger the moment she noticed a small, dark red stain across the cloth she’d just used to bind his wound. The blood was still oozing and threatening to soak through two squares of cloth. “You’re still bleeding.”
Laurel set her hand across her belly and moaned.
Daisy tamped down her alarm, not sure whom to tend to first. She decided on her sister. Gabriel had been shot and his wound might be more serious than she’d realized, but Laurel was in danger of giving birth to her first child in the middle of her salon. “Here, Laurel. Sit down. I’ll send a footman to summon the midwife.”
Laurel laughed gently. “No, not yet. The babe is quiet. I’m the one feeling a bit queasy.”
Daisy rang for Laurel’s maid, and after a bit of a fuss, Laurel was helped upstairs. That left Daisy alone with Gabriel. Her eyes rounded in alarm as he slowly rose to his full, imposing height and started toward her. It took him only a step or two to reach her. “What are you doing? I promised Laurel I’d behave.”
“And I promised no such thing.” He wrapped his uninjured arm about her waist and drew her much too close.
Though her mind urged her to draw back, her body had quite other intentions. Unbidden, her hands came to rest against his broad chest because she needed to touch him and feel the strength of his body against her open palms. “Where is Lady Forsythia’s book when I need it?”
He let out a soft laugh, but it quickly died. “I don’t want you going anywhere alone for the next few weeks.” His tone was gentle, no longer arrogant or angry, and the look he cast her was tender but somber.
She brushed back a lock of her hair that had fallen over her brow and absently tucked it behind her ear. “Why? I wasn’t in danger in the park. Surely, the assailant was aiming at you or Lord Malinor.”
“Perhaps, but I’d like you to be careful until we find out more. The fact remains, had I not thrown my body over yours, that shot would have killed you.”
***
Daisy was frustrated, but not surprised, when she and her family arrived late to the Baldridge musicale. Her mind was still reeling over what Gabriel had said, but surely the assailant had simply missed his mark. She couldn’t have been the intended target, could she? The possibility had brought her polite and sheltered world crashing down about her ears.
She hoped to learn more from Lord Malinor, but by the time she caught sight of him, he was already standing at the opposite end of the entry hall surrounded by his friends. She despaired of catching him alone before the recital began. “Drat.”
Her mother, who was standing beside her and no doubt scanning the crowd for Auguste Malinor, turned to her. “Did you say something, Daisy?”
“No, Mother.” After returning home, she had gone straight to her room and not said a word to any of the elders about the incident in the park. Perhaps she ought to have mentioned something to her parents, but neither of them were home at the time. No doubt they had gotten an earful from Julia, although she suspected that Julia had gone on at length about Lord Malinor’s new phaeton and ended with an account of the shooting that was so sensational her parents had probably dismissed it as another of her theatrical embellishments.
Uncle George knew the details for he’d stitched up Gabriel, but he’d refused to discuss it with her afterward. What had they said to
each other? She had been ordered out of her sister’s salon while her uncle had tended to Gabriel, so she had no hint of what the pair had discussed. Of course, she’d tried to listen in from the next room, but they spoke too softly to be overheard.
How inconsiderate!
“Daisy?” Her mother studied her with concern. “Perhaps you ought to have stayed home this evening.”
She smiled and assured her mother that she was in the pink of health.
“Well, you let me or your father know if you wish to go home. Imagine, shots ringing out in the park! I’m so glad no one was injured.”
Her smile faltered. Had her uncle said nothing about Gabriel’s injury? Had Julia been too hysterical to notice? Surely, Lord Lumley had been aware, but he might have been asked to keep quiet about it.
“Ah, here comes Lord Malinor. No doubt he wishes to make sure that you and Julia have recovered from all the excitement. Wait here while I find her.” She gave Daisy a quick inspection and frowned. “You’re not quite yourself yet. I can see that, child.”
“I will be once the music starts. Nothing like harp music to get one’s toes tapping.”
Her mother laughed lightly. “Or put one straight to sleep.” She squeezed her hand. “That’s my girl. I love you, Daisy.”
“Love you, too.”
“Well, now to find Julia. I’ll return in a moment.” Her mother soon disappeared into the crowd.
As soon as Lord Malinor saw that she was alone, he swooped down on her like a hawk seeking its prey. However, hawks did not dress in garish leggings of scarlet silk. “My dear! How are you?” He leaned close and lowered his voice. “Quite a shock you must have received this afternoon.”