"Good heavens!" Josh blurted out. "You don't think...?"
A ripple of alarm traveled around the room and almost as one the gentlemen surged toward the door. Dominic's hand was on the knob when the door flew open, nearly knocking him down.
Her eyes round with horror, her usually serene features revealing strong agitation, Sally Manchester threw herself onto Josh's massive chest, sobbing, "Oh, Josh! It is terrible. That man. He has Melissa!"
Dominic needed no explanation about the identity of "that man," and heedless of his weakened state, he spun around to face Royce. "Pistols?"
Wordlessly Royce strode to his father's desk, pulled open a bottom drawer and lifted out a fine mahogany case. The raised lid revealed two elegantly slim, exquisitely crafted dueling pistols.
The silence broken only by Sally's sobs and Josh's rumbling murmurs of comfort, Royce and Dominic coolly and methodically loaded and primed the pistols. Royce glanced at Dominic's pale, bloodstained face and asked, "Are you up to this?"
Dominic flung him a vicious look. "She's my wife! What the hell do you think?"
His young face as pale as Dominic's, Zachary demanded, "She's my sister! Let me go!"
Sighing, Dominic said, "I cannot. If anything happens to her..." His throat closed up and he could not go on.
Fighting to keep his fears from overpowering him, Dominic walked over to Sally and Josh. Very gently he said, "What happened? Where did they go?"
Dabbing at her tear-filled eyes, Sally replied in a quavering voice, "He just burst into the room, looking like a madman! I was so surprised—he always seemed like such a nice man."
Resisting the urge to shake her, Dominic prodded, "What happened after he came into the room?"
"He took Melissa! He just marched right up to her and grabbed her arm. Said that he would hold her hostage. That he would kill her if anyone followed them. He put the awful pistol to her head and said that if we made a sound, he would shoot her dead in front of us! Then he dragged her out of the room."
"How soon after they left did you come in search of us?" Royce asked. "Did you see in which direction they went?"
"Oh, I didn't wait!" Sally said rather proudly. "Melissa was squirming and making things so difficult for him that I was able to slip out of the side door and come here instantly!"
Wild hope surged through Dominic and he demanded urgently, "Are you saying that they haven't left the house yet?"
"I shouldn't think so," Sally answered. "Melissa was fighting him every step of the way, so he is not able to move with any swiftness."
Dominic raced for the French doors that opened to the gallery which surrounded the house. "Royce, you take the hallway—I'll circle around the house and try to cut them off at the front. The rest of you stay here."
Ignoring his pounding head, fear mingling with hope in his heart, Dominic sped out the French doors and ran along the gallery at the side of the house to the front. He was dizzy with pain by the time he reached the corner of the building, but pain was forgotten when he spied Latimer and Melissa struggling at the top of the broad steps.
The heavy white columns which supported the gallery interfered with a clear shot, and clutching the dueling pistol more firmly in his hand, Dominic leaped from the gallery to the ground. Moving swiftly, he stepped away from the building, placing himself off to the side of Latimer, but in a position that gave him an unobstructed view of the man and woman at the top of the stairs.
"Latimer!" he called. "Wouldn't you rather have another shot at me?"
Latimer froze, hardly able to believe his eyes and ears. Forgetting Melissa for a moment, he glared in Dominic's direction. It was almost inconceivable to him that it was truly Dominic standing on the ground below him, but as his gaze took in the blood which trickled slowly down Dominic's cheek, he realized that he had only wounded him.
In horror, Melissa stared at Dominic, fear for him momentarily driving every other thought from her mind. This was a nightmare! It did not seem real. Could it have been only minutes ago that she had been sitting in the salon, conversing with the young lady who was to become Daniel's bride? Mere moments ago that she had first heard the shocking sound of a shot reverberating through the house? Only minutes ago that Latimer had burst into the salon and, his face twisted in rage, had seized her and attempted to take her away with him?
She'd been so astonished that in those first moments she had not realized her danger, but when she had, she resolved not to go meekly and had struggled as stubbornly as she dared to escape from him. With a pistol pressed into her temple, she had been frightened to do much beyond dragging her feet and trying to throw off his hold on her arm. Once she had kicked him, but he had struck her savagely across the cheek and she had not known if she dared to anger him further.
And now, worse than any nightmare, was Dominic, his poor wounded face making her heart weep as he stood there risking his life for her. Latimer would kill him. She sensed this in the sudden coiling of his body. Could feel him loosening his grip on her arm. Felt the pistol leave her temple as he began to swing the weapon in Dominic's direction....
Screaming a warning, Melissa viciously jabbed her elbow into Latimer's midriff. She knew that Dominic would never risk a shot as long as there was a chance that she might be hit; and almost simultaneous with her jab at Latimer, she dropped to the ground, her bronze silken gown billowing around her, leaving Latimer standing there with no shield.
Dominic did not hesitate. His aim true and sure, he killed Latimer where he stood, a clean shot between the eyes. And then he was flinging aside the smoking pistol to leap up the steps, to gather his love close to his breast....
* * *
That night, as they lay together in the quiet and privacy of their bedroom, Melissa said softly, "I wasn't really frightened until I saw you standing out there—then I was terrified!"
Dominic's arm tightened around her as he too remembered his awful fear for her, and he pulled her slender length nearer to him. "Don't dwell on it, sweetheart. It is over and done with and Latimer will bother us no more."
"What will happen to Deborah?" she asked.
Dominic shrugged. "Nothing. The Deborahs of the world can take care of themselves, and while I am sure that she will miss him, I am equally sure that it will be only a matter of time before she finds another man who will take care of her."
"I couldn't," Melissa said quietly, one hand trailing gently down the side of his face.
"Couldn't what?" he asked, surprised.
"Couldn't find someone else."
"I should hope not—at least not until a decent interval had passed," Dominic said with a laugh. Then he loomed up over her, his laughter gone, and muttered in a shaken voice, "I love you so, Lissa. If Latimer had—"
Her eyes soft and glowing, Melissa pressed a silencing finger to his lips. "Shh. We will not talk of it. We will talk only of our love for each other and our new home." In the darkness, she shot him a mischievous glance. "You are going to take me to Thousand Oaks someday, aren't you?"
"Yes," Dominic said with mock fierceness, and kissing her teasingly at the corner of her mouth, he added, "But only after you have told me how much you love me..."
Sighing blissfully, she put her arms around his neck. "Well, I love you more than Uncle Josh and Aunt Sally," she said innocently. "And I love you more than Zachary and Royce. And I think I love you even more than Folly."
"Think you love me more than a damned horse?" he asked dryly, his fingers moving caressingly through her tawny curls.
Melissa kissed him soundly. "I know I love you much more than Folly!"
"How much more?" he demanded huskily.
Her arms tightened around his neck. "Oh, so very much more," she breathed fervently. "So very, very, very much more...."
The End
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LOVE BE MINE
The Louisiana Ladies Series
Book Three
; Excerpt from
Love Be Mine
The Louisiana Ladies Series
Book Three
by
Shirlee Busbee
New York Times Bestselling Author
LOVE ME MINE
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"...a passionate tale sure to keep readers engrossed."
~Rendezvous
There was a flurry of greetings and polite exchanges. Hugh's lips quirked in a sardonic smile at the air of reserve which overcame Micaela once she had recovered her surprise. Her nose was not exactly tilted as if she smelled something offensive, but very near. Unlike her mother, who was plainly pleased to see him.
Hugh was so busy covertly studying Micaela's charming profile that he was barely aware of the conversation going on between Lisette and Jasper. It wasn't until Lisette said with amusement, "So, Monsieur Lancaster, you and Monsieur De Marco will join us for dinner tomorrow night, oui?" that he was recalled to himself.
Recovering himself quickly, he murmured, "Dinner? Tomorrow night? It shall be my pleasure."
"Bon!" Lisette said with a twinkle in her dark eyes. "We shall expect you at seven o'clock tomorrow evening."
Hugh and Jasper bowed again. "Indeed you shall," Hugh said. "But for now, may we escort you to your destination?"
Micaela, whose pulse had been acting erratically ever since she had first glanced up and met Hugh's glinting gray-eyed glance, said stiffly, "That will not be necessary, monsieur—we are almost there."
"Ah, but I would be gravely remiss if I did not see you safely to where you are going. Just consider, mademoiselle—you might be accosted by someone—ah—objectionable." Hugh drawled, enjoying the vexed flush which stained Micaela's cheek.
Micaela's bosom swelled with indignation. Dieu! The Américain was arrogant! A Creole would have graciously accepted the dismissal and would never have continued to insinuate himself where he was plainly not wanted. Smiling sweetly, she murmured, "But monsieur, you forget, this is still a city of Creoles, and Maman and I are not worried about being confronted by someone who would be so rude and overbearing as to force himself upon us." Her eyes sparkling with the light of battle, she added, "New Orleans is not like your rough Américain cities—our Creole gentlemen know how to take care of their own."
Hugh grinned. "Well, that certainly put me in my place, did it not?"
Micaela's eyes dropped, and she replied demurely, "One hopes so, monsieur, one sincerely hopes so."
"Micaela!" Lisette burst out, a thread of laughter in her voice. "Do not be rude!"
Micaela's gaze met Hugh's dancing gray eyes. "Oh," she asked, all innocence, "was I rude?"
Hugh shook his head, the expression in his eyes making Micaela breathless. "Rude?" he murmured as he caught her hand in his and dropped a chaste kiss on the soft skin. "Oh, no, never rude... provoking, perhaps?"
Love Be Mine
by
Shirlee Busbee
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Love Be Mine
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New York Times bestselling author Shirlee Busbee is celebrating 50 years of marriage to her husband Howard, and looking forward to another 50. Together, they live in Mendocino County, California, with three Miniature Schnauzers (Shirlee wants a fourth but Howard thinks two is enough—ah, drama ahead) and a herd of American Shetland Ponies.
Table of Contents
Cover
Dedication
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Part II
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part III
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Part IV
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Excerpt from Love be Mine - The Louisiana Ladies Series, Book 3
Meet Shirlee Busbee
Midnight Masquerade Page 47
