To Save a Lord (Ladies Always Shoot First Book 2)

by Summer Hanford

  Kitty sucked in a deep breath. This was likely the best chance she would have to eliminate one of the ruffians. She braced herself. When Cleon’s steps drew away again, she leapt.

  Kitty hurtled from her hiding place. She yanked her arms over her head, candelabra clenched in both hands. Her skirt caught on the chair. She pitched forward. The candelabra collided with the back of Cleon’s head, the entire weight of her body crashing down with it. They clattered to the floor, narrowly missing the children.

  Kitty rolled off Cleon. She struggled to her knees and hit him in the face with the candelabra. She slammed it down two more times before she realized he wasn’t moving. She halted mid-swing. Looking up, she found four round eyes watching.

  She was panting. She dropped the candelabra and winced when it clattered to the floor. She reached out a shaky hand. She tried not to look at Cleon’s bloody face. “May I have that rope?”

  The little girl nodded vigorously. She started wriggling and the rope hit the floor.

  Kitty snatched it up, pulled out her knife, and quickly sawed the rope in half. She tied Cleon’s feet, then his hands behind him. She pulled her kerchief from her sleeve and shoved it in his mouth, though she didn’t know if that would stop him from yelling for long, should he wake. The children watched in silence.

  Finally, she stood again. “Now what?”

  “You should take his pistol and save our mama and papa.” The girl pointed to the pistol shoved between Cleon’s belt and waistband.

  Kitty pulled the weapon free. A thought struck. Grimacing at touching him, she searched his pockets. Triumph flooded when her fingers closed around a small ring of keys.

  She rose, keys in hand. “Do you know where your mama and papa are?”

  “Mama’s in the kitchen, usually.” The girl sounded worried.

  “Papa’s in his office,” the little boy said, pointing toward the hall. “We heard him yelling.”

  “But that was earlier, when they took us out to the shed,” the girl added.

  “Hopefully he’s still there,” Kitty said. “Come with me.”

  She hurried to the door, then peeked into the hall to find it empty. The children followed her from the room. She bit her lip. Should she free the groundskeeper or try to help Harry alone? How long before Ralf realized something was wrong? She hefted the pistol in her hand.

  Kitty faced the children. “Do you know which key locks that door?” She nodded toward the room they’d exited.

  The girl’s eyes shifted to the key ring and Kitty held it out. The child pointed to the third key on the ring. Kitty hurried to the door and, with trembling fingers, pulled it shut and locked it.

  “Does your papa’s office have a lock as well?” Kitty asked.

  Both children nodded.

  She held out the keyring. “Can you free your papa? I have to save my friend. The other man has him.”

  The little girl took the keys, her expression determined. Her hands were so small, Kitty realized she’d have no chance of untying the groundskeeper if he was bound. Cleon seemed to like tying people up.

  “Do you think you can use a knife to cut your papa free?” Kitty asked.

  The boy shook his head. “I’m not supposed to use knives.”

  “I can,” the girl declared.

  Kitty gave her an encouraging smile and handed over her bodice knife. “Don’t come outside alone. If you can’t find your papa, sneak to the kitchen to look for your mama. If you can’t find either, hide until someone you know comes.”

  Collecting parting nods, Kitty tiptoed toward the front of the house. Holding the pistol before her, she darted a look around each corner before moving on. She neared the front door. She didn’t hear anyone, but a quick glance showed the door to be open. Hugging the wall, she crept forward. As she came up alongside the door, back pressed to the wall, a voice reached her from outside.

  “…as he gets himself in the saddle, you retie his lordship’s hands in front of him,” Ralf said. “Make sure you tie them good and tight, and before you think of helping him, remember that Cleon’s still in there with your little ones.”

  Kitty bit her lip. She looked at the pistol. It was single barrel, giving her one shot. She pulled back the hammer. Cocking it was much more difficult than Annabel and her brothers made it look. Kitty edged up to the door, then peeked outside.

  Ralf was mounted, another saddled horse beside him. He had his mount crowded near Harry’s, pistol trained on him. The frightened woman from the kitchen stood on a mounting block, tying Harry’s hands before him. When she finished, she pressed the reins into his fingers.

  Ralf gestured with the pistol. “Now go tell Cleon to tie you up and get out here.”

  The woman scrambled down the mounting block, her face chalk-colored. She hurried toward Kitty, then stopped, mouth agape. Too late, Kitty realized she should have ducked out of sight.

  “Bloody hell,” Ralf cursed, turning the pistol on Kitty. “Down on the ground, both of you.”

  The woman dropped to the ground. Kitty stepped from the house. Harry stared, expression grim.

  “Ride away right now, Ralf, or I’ll shoot,” Kitty said in a steady voice.

  “Throw that pistol down or I’ll shoot. Cleon!” Ralf shouted.

  “Cleon isn’t coming.” Kitty took satisfaction in that.

  “If you’d done in Cleon, you’d have the groundskeeper with you.”

  Kitty blinked. Maybe that would have been smarter. She bit her lip. “Ride away or I will shoot.” She hoped he couldn’t see her shaking. She stepped around the prone woman. The closer she drew, the more likely she would hit him. Even she knew that.

  Ralf turned the pistol onto Harry. “How about this, you throw the pistol down, or I shoot his lordship?”

  In the forest, hounds bayed. Kitty didn’t dare look, her attention on Ralf, but Harry turned toward the sound.

  Ralf cast a quick glance over his shoulder as well. He grabbed the reins of Harry’s horse. “We’re leaving.”

  Kitty gripped the pistol with both hands and aimed.

  “Kit,” Harry said, his voice low.

  The hounds bayed again. Ralf tugged the reins, turning both horses. Kitty closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. The gun roared.

  She rocked backward, landing on her rear in the dirt. The pistol skittered away. Horses squealed. Another shot rang out. She opened her eyes to see all three mounts rearing. The riderless horse sped off. Harry gripped his pommel, but was flung from his horse. Ralf sailed through the air too. Kitty gasped when his face struck the mounting block. He crumpled in a motionless heap.

  She jumped to her feet and ran to Harry. He groaned, sprawled on the ground, expression dazed. She dropped to her knees beside him. Footfalls sounded behind her. Kitty whipped around to see the woman dash inside and slam the door. She turned back to Harry. His coat and shirt were torn on his right shoulder, a line of red welling out.

  “He shot you,” she cried, clutching her hands to her mouth.

  Harry shook his head. “You shot me.”

  Kitty dropped her hands. “I shot you?”

  “Who fires a pistol with their eyes closed?”

  Barking mixed with the baying now, the dogs near.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears threatened. “He was going to take you from me.” Harry closed his eyes and fear stabbed. “Harry, don’t die,” she cried.

  He opened his eyes. She was surprised to see amusement there. “It’s only a scratch, but you could start shredding your petticoats to bind it.”

  “Yes, of course.” Kitty tugged at her hem.

  “Kit, I’m teasing.”

  “Oh.” She stared down at him.

  Hair a tousled mess, sweat on his forehead, but his green eyes bright. Kitty let out a sigh. Harry was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

  “I’m sorry I shot you,” she said.

  A smile curved his mouth. “Southwood says it’s a sign a woman loves you.”

  She blinked. “But
Annabel shot him and his brother. I don’t think she loves his brother. He is quite abominable.”

  “Is that your way of letting me down easy, Kit?”

  “What? No, I—” She narrowed her eyes. When had Harry learned to tease? She ran her gaze down his long frame. Hands still bound, he lay before her. At her mercy. “You still owe me a kiss.”

  Not waiting for a clever remark, Kitty kissed him. His mouth tensed beneath hers. Oh dear, was she doing it wrong? She was about to pull away to ask when his bound fingers brushed her cheek. His mouth began to move on hers. She didn’t know what a kiss should be like, but the intensity took her breath.

  She was vaguely aware of dogs rushing by, circling and barking. She slid her hands into Harry’s hair, pressing more firmly against his mouth.

  “Harold Mitchel,” his father’s firm voice snapped out at the same time her father said, “Catherine.”

  Startled, Kitty jerked back from Harry. She unwound her fingers, running a hand along his jaw. His gaze lingered on her lips. Taking a deep breath, she looked up into a line of male disapproval.

  Both of their fathers were there, along with the Duke of Southwood, Winston and Nathan. A gaggle of servants shuffled behind them, many holding reins. The duke’s hounds lounged about, happy in their success.

  “Catherine,” her father repeated in disappointed tones.

  “Allow me,” Harry’s father raised a staying hand. “Harold Mitchel, what were you thinking, taking advantage of Miss Brightly?”

  Harry held up his bound hands. “In my defense, I couldn’t very well stop her.” He grinned.

  Winston raised blond brows. “Did you want to?”

  Harry’s expression sobered and his gaze shifted to her.

  “Harry,” Kitty whispered. “That’s not funny. Tell them you didn’t want to stop me.”

  He frowned.

  “I swear, I’ll hit your injured arm if you don’t come clean this moment,” she said. “You know you didn’t want me to stop.”

  A smile spread across Harry’s face. “Kit, I never want you to stop.”

  Epilogue

  A knock sounded at Kitty’s bedroom door. She stretched, reaching for Harry, then remembered he’d kissed her goodbye and headed out for an early hunt with the duke. She opened her eyes with a yawn. The knock sounded again.

  “Kitty?” Annabel called. “Kitty, they’re arriving. Get dressed and come see.”

  “They’re here?” Kitty sat up in bed. “I’ll be quick.”

  Annabel’s footsteps retreated. Kitty called for her maid. The girl appeared immediately, likely alerted by Annabel’s voice in the hall.

  “The puppies are being born.” Kitty swung her feet to the floor. “What does one wear to a puppy birth?”

  “Likely, your brown day dress, Miss,” her maid suggested.

  Kitty nodded absently. Caesar’s and Lady Grey’s puppies. After…the incident, before she and Harry married, Kitty decided she must have a Caesar of her own, so the duke borrowed Lady Grey from an associate. Now, finally, the puppies were arriving.

  Kitty let her maid assist her in silence. She was excited about the puppies, but she didn’t like being reminded of her second abduction. She hadn’t gone to Ralf’s and Cleon’s hanging. Unlike Annabel, who railed against the birth of her son preventing attendance, Kitty had no desire to attend. She didn’t want to see men die, even ones who’d threatened her and Harry’s lives.

  It was enough for Kitty to know the ruffians were gone while those she loved and the groundskeeper and his family were safe. She could tell from the grim looks sometimes exchanged by the men that the issue of someone daring to abduct her and Harry was not resolved. Though she’d refute it if anyone dared say it, Kitty really didn’t want to trouble her pretty little head. She was happy to let Harry, the duke and their fathers take care of the matter. If she never got involved with anything abduction-related again, it would be too soon.

  Behind her, the door to her room opened. Her maid went still, halfway through doing up the back of her gown.

  “If you’ll excuse us?” Harry said.

  Kitty smiled.

  The maid dropped a curtsy and slipped out.

  Harry came up behind Kitty and wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his lips to her ear. “I see I’m too late. You’re nearly dressed.”

  “How was your hunt?”

  “Not as entertaining as staying here with you would have been.”

  “You didn’t have to go,” she said.

  “I’m here now.” He slid his lips down to her neck.

  “Harry,” she gasped. “There’s no time for that. I want to see the birth of the puppies.”

  “Right. Puppies. Very important.” He trailed kisses along her sensitive flesh.

  Kitty’s lids fluttered closed.

  “I’ll stop if you really want me to.” His hands encircled her waist. He pulled her against him.

  “Harry, I never want you to stop,” she breathed, and turned in his arms.

  ###

  One Shot for a Gentleman

  Ladies Always Shoot First

  Book Three

  Summer Hanford

  What’s a woman to do when love turns into double the trouble?

  After a night of romance and a declaration of love, Dalilah Cartwell is devastated to learn that her best friend, Lydia, is engaged to the same gentleman who wooed her. Dissuading their brothers’ attempts to defend their honor, the two meet the rogue at dawn, only to discover that trouble comes in twos.

  Chapter One

  S omeone pounded on Nathan Mitchel’s chamber door. He cracked open his lids, and winced at the sunlight streaming into the airy room. He groaned. The hour was long before noon. Only one person would hammer on his door so early and with such vigor. His twin, Winston.

  “Nathan, are you up?” Winston called.

  “Certainly not. It can’t be half past ten,” he mumbled.

  The door creaked open. Nathan snatched up a pillow and hurled it. It slammed into Winston’s face as he stuck his head inside. Nathan took some satisfaction in the muffled curse. When a kick sent the pillow flying, he wished the available weapon had been more substantial, like a boot.

  Winston shut the door and faced Nathan, eyes serious under unruly blond curls. “I have a favor to ask.”

  Nathan sighed. He drew himself upright and leaned against the headboard. “Is that another new suit?”

  “What if it is?” Winston stood straighter. He turned to the floor length mirror near the window and adjusted his cuffs.

  “You’ll bleed father dry.”

  “Hardly.”

  “I haven’t been to the tailor in ages. Give me the next one.”

  “Who says I ordered more?”

  Nathan snorted. Winston always ordered more. That’s why Nathan never need go to the tailor. “Father’s money should be put to the best use. I have the more striking build.”

  “Don’t be absurd. Even our mother can’t tell us apart.”

  That was true, but others could. Their mother was a bit on the flighty side. “Why have you woken me at this ungodly hour?” Nathan narrowed his blue eyes. “Why are you awake—and dressed?”

  With a dramatic sigh, Winston flopped down in an armchair near the mirror. “I’m in love.”

  Nathan stared. Winston had been disappearing often of late, but Nathan never thought to hear those words from his brother. He’d assumed some more reasonable cause, like horse racing.

  “Steady on now. In love? Have you lost your wits?”

  Winston shook his head. “I wish. That would be more bearable than each moment away from her.”

  Good God, he had gone mad. “Away from whom? What paragon of womanhood has taken you off the market?”

  “Miss Lydia.”

  “That little blonde bit? The one who looks like a strong wind would carry her off? Snotty Parkin’s little cousin, in for the season from the countryside?” What would any man want with a scrawny bit of nothing lik
e that?

  “She’s an angel, and Parkin doesn’t care to be called Snotty.”

  “Well, I don’t care to be woken before noon. We must all suffer.” Nathan sat up straighter. “Wait, isn’t she a Kirkland, Baron le Fount’s niece?” Le Fount was their father’s enemy in his business ventures, and the man they knew, but couldn’t prove, had tried to ransom their family members.

  Winston nodded. “She is.”

  “Father will have a fit. You can’t be in love with a girl related to le Fount.”

  “The heart cannot be dictated to,” Winston said in officious tones. “Besides, they say family is all to that man. Perhaps the union will be an olive branch.”

  Nathan shook his head. “I don’t care what sort of branch it is. I’m not getting involved.”

  Winston leaned forward, expression beseeching. “I don’t need much. Only for you to pretend to be me and escort Mother this evening. She’s dead set on me and this dance. I don’t want to confess about Lydia until we’ve executed our plan. Once we do, even Father will insist I marry her, related to le Fount or not.”

  “Marriage?” A word more shocking than love.

  “That is what a man does with the woman he loves.” Winston’s expression was as serious as Nathan had ever seen it.

  “You truly mean to marry this girl?” Nathan asked.

  “I do.”

  Nathan shook his head, surprised at the determination in his brother’s voice. Still, Winston in love didn’t mean Nathan must suffer. “That’s all very well, this love thing, but I took my turn escorting Mother yesterday. Three hours at the millinery.” Nathan shuddered. “Can’t your plan take place tomorrow?”

  “There’s a full moon this evening.”

  Fit for Bedlam. “Well, yes, a full moon. That explains it.” Nathan pointed to the door. “Out.”

  “You don’t understand. Lydia said she’s always dreamed that when she’s asked for her hand, it will be in the garden, under a full moon. I won’t have another chance for ages.”