Captured by a Duke (Ladies Always Shoot First Book 1)

by Summer Hanford

  “I can’t lie,” John said. “I’m not sure she will forgive you, especially when she learns the truth.”

  “Oh John, you’re such a joker.” Kitty giggled. It was the same giggle she’d used in the garden with that long-ago cad. “All will be well. Annabel will find the whole thing amusing and, of course, romantic. The duke wished to meet her before they were wed, just as she longed to meet him. They’re perfect for one another.”

  “We’ll see about that.” The amusement in his tone carried an odd edge.

  “When you wrote me about your plan, I must admit, I had my doubts,” Kitty said. “But it was spectacular. For a moment, I thought you were really going to hurt me. You missed your calling in the theater by being born the son of a duke. Annabel will have to appreciate the lengths we all went to, orchestrating this meeting for them. What woman wouldn’t want to be so swept off her feet?”

  “Born the son of a duke, yes,” he said in an odd voice. “But only his second son.”

  Kitty giggled again, but Annabel hardly cared. They were drawing away, Kitty’s next words unintelligible as they continued toward the cabin, more likely a hunting lodge. The duke’s hunting lodge. She groaned. Leave it to her to shoot her own fiancé.

  She uncocked the pistol and stood. Yes, she’d shot her fiancé, and she didn’t even know the severity of his wound. What if she’d maimed him? Worse, what if she’d murdered him? Annabel leaned against the tree. The forest spun again. She’d made a terrible mistake.

  She drew in a deep breath. This was not her fault. It was Kitty’s and John’s—and the duke’s. What had they expected, she would meekly permit herself to be kidnapped? Ridiculous.

  Tucking loose locks behind her ears and squaring her shoulders, Annabel stomped up the trail. If the duke wasn’t dead, or unconscious from blood loss, she was going to give him a piece of her mind. Throw her over his shoulder, would he? Expect her to quietly go off with a highwayman, did he?

  And Kitty. How could her best friend do this to her? John must have charmed her into this a hair-brained scheme. Part of his appeal was obviously the offer of marriage, though Annabel could hardly credit it. His tone said he could barely stand Kitty.

  As she hurried toward the lodge, Annabel’s thoughts ranged over all she’d heard. Something wasn’t right. It didn’t make sense. John had thrown away his future to help the duke abduct her. It would take a devoted brother to marry for so little reason, and John must now marry Kitty. Aside from his promise to her, they’d been unchaperoned for the better part of an hour.

  John didn’t seem devoted. His tone conveyed quite the opposite. Then again, Kitty’s dowry was large. She wasn’t from a titled line, but many men cared little for titles when money was involved. Had Kitty foolishly bound herself to a fortune seeking second son in the course of this ridiculous plot?

  Annabel increased her pace, biting her lip. And where was the duke? He should have come after her by now. They all should have met on the path, unless he was too injured. She’d aimed to graze him and she was a practiced shot, but she couldn’t be sure. It had happened so fast. She’d never shot a man before.

  This time as she approached, with sunlight seeping through the canopy to gild the lodge, she could appreciate how fine it was. The duke’s hunting lodge was larger than many London homes. Likely, when he used it, he had to bring as many servants as a London home required. It was also situated quite nicely. Ancient, broad limbed trees sheltered it from the hot summertime sun.

  Taking a deep breath, she marched up the steps to the door, which stood ajar.

  “What are you doing?” Kitty screeched, causing Annabel to jump.

  “I’m sorry, pet, but it turns out I don’t want to marry you after all.” John’s voice was cold.

  Annabel froze.

  “Please turn aside that pistol. I don’t understand.” Kitty’s voice quivered.

  “Why does that not surprise me?”

  John’s sneer spurred Annabel into motion. She inched closer to the crack in the doorway.

  “We’re to marry,” Kitty wailed. “Annabel and I will be sisters, and you—”

  “Enough, you stupid chit,” John roared.

  “John, leave the girl be.” Annabel recognized the duke’s voice, though he sounded strained.

  “You don’t get to give orders anymore, Richard.”

  “It’s not an order. The girl means nothing. No one will believe anything she says. Let her leave.”

  “No.” John’s voice was smooth again. “I will say how this affair ends. The fates are finally smiling on me. I planned to kill you all and stage it as a tryst turned robbery, but now I may be able to keep the lovely Miss Annabel. It’s too rich that she shot you for me. You can’t even stand without the support of that wall. Without witnesses, I’ll be able to tell any story I wish. I’ll marry her, despite her compromised state. I’ll be a damn hero.”

  “Annabel isn’t a fool,” the duke said.

  “Exactly. Only a fool would choose being a dead miss over being a living duchess with me.”

  Annabel clenched her teeth. She was no fool, and she wouldn’t accept either option. Carefully, she cocked the pistol, then eased forward. She wouldn’t let John kill Kitty, or the duke. She’d already shot one man today. She could shoot another.

  Chapter Five

  “Y ou’ll be a murderer.” The hoarseness in the duke’s voice frightened Annabel.How much blood had he lost? “I’m your brother, John,” he went on. “Think on what you’re doing.”

  “Oh, I have. I’ve thought of it, dreamed of it, for years. You can keep our parents’ favoritism, Richard. Take it with you. Enjoy it in the grave.”

  Holding her breath, Annabel poked her head through the gap in the doorway. John’s back faced her. He pointed a pistol at the duke, who had one hand braced against the far wall. His eyes flicked almost imperceptibly toward her, then returned to his brother, his expression unchanged. Her stomach churned. The scarf he’d worn over his face, now tied around his left leg, was dark with blood.

  Kitty stood wedged between the duke and the wall, her face white as fresh snow. She shook so fiercely, Annabel could see the trembling in her limbs. Annabel withdrew her head before Kitty spotted her. She couldn’t trust Kitty to hide her reaction as the duke had.

  “The tricky part is, I only have one bullet,” John said. He sounded amused. “If you could squeeze yourself a bit farther behind Richard, my dear, I may be able to shoot clean through him and into you. If I were you, I’d pray for a good shot. If the bullet doesn’t reach you, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to strangle you.”

  Kitty sobbed.

  John released a dramatic sigh. “I’m growing bored with your noise, and I have a much prettier heiress than you to hunt down. Goodbye, Miss Kitty. Goodbye, brother.”

  Kitty screamed. Annabel flung the door open. A gunshot rang out, even as she fired her pistol.

  Richard flung himself more fully in front of Kitty. John’s body jerked. He snarled a curse, and spun toward Annabel. His left arm hung limp, but his right still held his pistol. He cocked it and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell with a loud click.

  He threw the pistol at her. Annabel ducked. The duke launched himself at John. They slammed to the floor in a fury of pummeling arms and legs. Fresh blood smeared the floorboards as they rolled, limbs flailing.

  Annabel dropped her spent weapon and ran around the men to Kitty. Grabbing her, she yanked Kitty up from the crouch she’d fallen into. Kitty sobbed, flinging her arms about Annabel, hindering her attempts to check for bullet wounds.

  Kitty screamed. Annabel jerked around to find the duke and John rolling toward them. She pulled Kitty out of the way an instant before the two men slammed into the wall. The duke came out on top. He landed a powerful blow on the side of John’s head. John went limp. The duke rolled off him, gasping for breath.

  Annabel pulled free of Kitty and dropped to her knees beside him. Blood covered his chest, but her probing fingers found only one ad
ditional wound, where John’s bullet had clipped his shoulder. It was a short, shallow gash, much to her relief.

  Finally, her inspection reached his face. She smoothed his sweat-dampened hair from his forehead and ran fingers over his cheeks and jaw. Large hands clasped hers.

  “Miss Annabel.” His voice was a deep whisper.

  “Lord Southwood.” She leaned over him. Her hair hung down in a honeyed wall, screening off her view of the unconscious John.

  “You have eyes like the summer sky,” he said.

  Annabel blinked. She offered a shaky smile. “Yours are the color of the sky too, that deep blue that comes just before nightfall.” Her smile slipped. “But I believe your left is swelling shut.”

  He winced. “I apologize.”

  She nodded toward John. “I think we should tie up your brother, my lord. Have you any rope?”

  He turned his head in John’s direction, grimacing. “He won’t wake anytime soon, but there should be some rope round back. The servants use it for stringing up deer.”

  “I’m sure I can locate it,” she said, familiar with her father’s lodge. She tugged her hands free of the duke’s, immediately missing his warmth.

  He caught her wrist. “Perhaps Miss Kitty could retrieve it while you assist me to my feet. There’s something I must discuss with you.”

  “Are you sure you should stand?” Annabel bit her lip. Fresh blood pooled on the floor under his leg.

  “I’d be no man at all if I couldn’t stand because of a sound pummeling and a few bullet holes.” He grinned, but pain tightened the corners of his mouth.

  Annabel hesitated, not certain he should be on his feet.

  “Besides, I find the company I’m keeping here on the floor rather unsavory.” He nodded toward the limp form of his brother.

  “Right,” Annabel agreed. She turned to Kitty, who watched them wide-eyed, her hands clutched to her mouth. Little sobs escaped around them. “Kitty, there’s rope in one of the buildings out back. Can you find it?”

  Kitty gave a quaking nod and hurried off. Annabel returned her attention to the duke, who’d pulled himself up onto his elbows. Waving off her help, he came to his knees. She stood and offered her hand. He clasped it, but managed to gain his feet without putting his weight on her. Once standing, noticeably avoiding placing weight on his left leg, he captured her other hand, as well.

  “I must admit, Miss Annabel, I was leery of signing the marriage agreement without meeting you, or I wouldn’t have conceded to my brother’s wild, obviously underhanded plan.”

  “You were leery?” She’d never stopped to consider his feelings on the betrothal.

  He nodded. “I had reports of your beauty, of course, but there is more to life than beauty.”

  “You were given more than I, then, my lord. I had only my father’s word, and no reason to believe him when he assured me I’d be content.”

  “And are you?” He cocked a dark eyebrow. He evidenced a complete lack of doubt as to her answer.

  She looked him up and down. How could she not be pleased? His height, his hair black as night, her intimate evidence of his strength. Schooling her expression into critical appraisal she offered, “In truth, I would prefer a fiancé with fewer holes in him.”

  “Then you probably shouldn’t have shot me.”

  Her faced warmed. “And?” she prodded, tilting up her chin. He gave her a quizzical look and she added, “Are you satisfied with your bride? You best decide now, for tomorrow we’re slated to marry.”

  “Life with you will always be interesting,” he said, but his expression was pleased. “There is one more question, though, that needs to be answered.”

  “What is that, my lord?” Annabel was truly perplexed. It seemed as if he liked her somewhat forward temperament. He didn’t even sound angry about his leg.

  He released her hands and cupped the back of her neck. “The most important question.” His eyes settled on her lips.

  Annabel’s breath caught.

  Richard lowered his mouth to hers.

  His kiss was as unyielding as his form, and she found she liked that about him. Applying light pressure to the back of her neck, he angled her head and explored her lips. Annabel twined her fingers in his thick hair and drew him closer.

  “Ahem,” Kitty said.

  Annabel stilled. Heavens, how long had Kitty been standing there? Her lips curled in a luxurious smile as she realized she didn’t care. After all, they’d been answering the most important question, and answering it well.

  “I have rope,” Kitty said.

  “Well then, let’s tie up my brother, then we can return to your carriage to ensure the wellbeing of your servants,” the duke said, his eyes never leaving Annabel. “May I invite you back to my manor?”

  “Of course, my lord.” Annabel couldn’t contain her smile. “That would be most convenient. After all, we have a wedding to attend.”

  Epilogue

  A nnabel brushed her nearly waist-length blonde hair, waiting for her husband to join her in their shared bedchamber. She knew it was a difficult day for him, being the final day of John’s trial. Richard had spoken out in defense of his brother, arguing in favor of banishment to Ireland over hanging. He’d gone to court sure he could secure that verdict.

  Annabel was certain, too. John hadn’t killed anyone. Even the servants he’d knocked unconscious had recovered. Her influence as a duchess was helping restore Kitty’s reputation, so John didn’t have to answer for ruining her. The worst crime carried out during the affair was shooting Richard in the leg, and Annabel had done that.

  Richard entered, his jacket slung over one arm. He looked tired, but he smiled when he saw her. That was all the answer Annabel needed to know he’d been successful in saving his brother from the noose.

  “Things went well, then?” She set aside her brush, rose, and crossed to him.

  His eyes roamed over her frilly French nightgown. He nodded. “But I find I don’t feel like discussing the trial.”

  “No?” She wound her arms about his neck.

  He gave her a slow smile and lowered his lips to hers. Annabel had to agree with him. There was no reason for talk.

  ###

  To Save a Lord

  Ladies Always Shoot First

  Book Two

  Summer Hanford

  A woman in love will risk anything for true love’s kiss

  Kitty Brightly’s reputation is in tatters, and not even her friend the Duchess of Southwood’s influence is enough to invite suitors. When, at long last, one appears where Kitty least expects him, her boldness threatens to ruin everything. Yet, that same boldness might be the one thing that saves them both.

  Excerpt—

  “What do you say, Kit?” Nathan offered an infectious grin.

  She resisted the urge to smile back. “I say no. What if everyone comes looking? I can’t have my father think I’ve wandered off. You have no idea what trouble I’d get into.”

  “No, that’s the beauty of it,” Nathan said. “No one else will know. Harry will keep it hushed. He cares about you too much to go to either of our fathers or the duke. He won’t want to get you in trouble.”

  Kitty chewed on her lip, thinking.

  “We’ll give you ten percent,” Winston offered.

  “Ten? I’d want forty.”

  “We’re the ones who will do the actual shooting,” Nathan protested.

  Kitty shook her head. “I won’t do it. It’s mean to abuse Harry’s good nature.” She did her best to appear haughty. “One of you will just have to up and beat your big brother.”

  “Awe, come on, Kit,” Nathan pressed.

  “Twenty percent,” Winston offered.

  “Absolutely not,” Kitty said. “Now, Winston, do you concede or not?”

  The twins maintained a huff the remainder of the afternoon, but relented by evening. As an apology for being petulant, they each snuck whisky to her. Normally, they only smuggled her a taste when the menfolk
rejoined the ladies in the parlor, but she accepted their apology as her due. It wasn’t until her head started to spin that she realized perhaps two teacups full of whiskey was a bit excessive.

  “Excuse me.” Kitty stood. Everyone looked at her. “I think I took too much sun today.”

  Her face did feel hot. The room tilted. She made her way carefully to the door, nodding in reply to well-wishers. She hoped she didn’t look as off-kilter as she felt.

  Out of sight, she kept one hand against the hallway wall. Her feet were nearly too heavy to take the stairs. Why the duke needed so many steps, she didn’t know, but she clung to the railing until she reached the top. Swaying, she peered down the hall. Was it longer than before?

  Careful not to dislodge any revered ancestors in their frames, she kept a steadying hand on the wall and started forward. She didn’t hear the footsteps until she reached her door. Hand shaking, she fumbled for the knife she kept in her bodice, a precaution after last summer’s incident, but the sheath held tight. Heart pounding, she whirled to face her stalker.

  Harry reached out and caught her as she pivoted toward the floor. “What did those lackwits do to you?”

  “Lackwits?” Kitty repeated, overjoyed to find her stalker was only Harry. Harry was a funny name, and he was tipping sideways in a funny way. She giggled.

  “You think I don’t know they sneak you drinks?”

  “I think you do know. You said you know. Don’t you remember? You said it only now.”

  Harry shook his head. With strong hands, he grasped her shoulders and eased her against the wall. Kitty smiled gratefully. It was much easier to stand with a wall at her back.

  Harry braced a palm against the wall beside her. She realized she was tilting and straightened. She started to slide in the other direction and his free hand grasped her shoulder, stopping her in place. She peered up at him. Taller than his brothers, his hair a darker shade, he loomed over her.

  “Your maid is in your room?” He nodded toward her door.

  “Is she?”