by Tarah Scott
“You are sure you saw…” the remainder of Stirling’s words were unintelligible.
“Aye, my lord. Positive.”
They reached the next floor. Leslie hurried down the remaining stairs and broke out into a well-lit hallway. The two men were twenty paces ahead. They stopped and turned. Sir Stirling frowned as Leslie hurried toward them.
She reached them, and he said, “Is something wrong, my lady?”
“What is wrong is that you are not telling me what really happened.”
His frown deepened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I overheard you in the stairs.”
His gaze bore into her. “Just what did you hear?”
“That you checked on Lord Barnton and found him sleeping and that it had to be him. Also, that you were looking for something. What exactly were you looking for, Sir. Stirling?”
He didn’t answer for a beat, then said, “The man who shot Mr. MacLaren.”
Chapter Ten
“I must admit, I wouldn’t have taken you for the sort to cheat,” Leslie told Sir Stirling ten minutes later.
“It isn’t cheating, exactly,” he said. “Henry and I”–he nodded toward the footman who stood to his right—”simply made sure neither of them could shoot the other, even accidentally, and honor was satisfied.”
Honor.
She willed back the tears that hovered too close to the surface, and said, “I think Mr. MacLaren would be angry if he knew you tampered with the pistols.”
“I imagine not,” he replied.
Leslie regarded him. “You seem to understand him quite well. I assume you were once like him?”
He gave a wry smile. “Not so long ago.”
Anger tightened her stomach. “I imagine there is no way to prove that Lord Barnton was the man shooting from within the trees?”
Sir Stirling shook his head. “I am afraid not.”
“If anything happens to Evan, Lord Barnton will not answer for the crime.” Leslie glanced in the direction of the stairs. She needed to return to him.
Sir Stirling squeezed her arm. “I have great faith in Doctor Graham. Not to mention, as I said earlier, Mr. MacLaren is a strong man.”
She started to turn, then stopped. “Forgive my earlier behavior. I accused you of being reckless. You are anything but reckless.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“You might have told me you tampered with the pistols,” she said.
“I thought it better if no one knew.”
“I wonder why Lord Barnton shot him,” Leslie said more to herself than Stirling. “What has he to gain?”
“The duel will take the attention away from him, muddy the waters,” Stirling replied.
He was right, of course. She nodded, then hurried away.
When Leslie reached Evan’s room, she half expected him to be sitting up in bed, eating some of the broth Baroness Trent had made for Lord Barnton. Instead, his eyes were closed and the blanket that covered his chest lifted and fell with each shallow breath. She drew a chair up to the bed and laid a hand over his heart. A strong, even beat thumped against his chest.
The door opened and Baroness Trent entered. She crossed to the bed. “I thought I would find you here. The doctor said he needs rest. I can have one of the servants sit with him. Come, my dear, eat something and get some rest.”
Leslie shook her head. “Nae. I am not hungry.”
The baroness sighed. “I will have tea and biscuits sent up.”
Leslie nodded, but her attention remained on Evan. The door clicked shut behind the baroness and Leslie finally gave into tears. Why didn’t he wake up?
“You fool,” she whispered. “Lord Barnton’s lies were not worth your life.”
She lowered her head and let the tears slide down her cheeks. This was too much. She barely knew the man, yet the fear that he would die and leave her twisted her heart. Was he always this reckless? Leslie pictured him on the bow of his ship as a cannonball whizzed past his head. How many brushes had he had with death? A duel with a fop like Mr. Drucker must have seemed like child’s play to him—and would have been so, if not for Lord Barnton.
Leslie swiped at the tears. If Evan didn’t recover— She cut off the thought. He would recover. And when he did, she would forbid him from such dangerous behavior.
“You understand?” she whispered. “This foolish behavior must end.”
Please.
Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. How many times had Carr said those very words to her…including the plea? Was this how he had felt when he forbade her from certain behavior…racing, in particular?
She sobbed. How had he lived with the pain?
How could she live with the pain?
She looked up and cried out at sight of Evan’s blue eyes staring.
“Y-you are awake.”
His eyes flicked to the window, then said in a hoarse voice, “It is morning.”
She glanced at the window and realized dawn had broken.
“I see Mr. Drucker is a better shot than I gave him credit for.”
She looked back at him. “What? Oh, nae.”
His dark brow lifted and she wanted to cry. He was too handsome.
Leslie shook her head. “I cannot bear the pain of seeing you hurt. If anything were to happen to you—” She broke off and shook her head.
His gaze intensified. “You did say you’d been on a warship before.”
She blinked at the change of subject. Fear stabbed. Had the wound caused damage to his brain. “Are you well, Evan?”
“I have never been to America,” he said. “Have you?”
“America? Nae.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Good. That means we can see it for the first time...together.”
“Together?” Leslie gasped. “I—” She couldn’t speak.
He withdrew an arm from beneath the blankets and covered her hand with his. “No need to worry, love. I will not try to change you.”
“Not try to change me?” She choked back a sob.
His expression sobered. “What is amiss, Leslie? You can trust me. I understand your need for freedom. I promise not to put restraints on you.”
She stared. “But why would you risk the pain?”
He flashed a crooked smile. “A man in love risks much.”
Her eyes widened. “Love? That-that isn’t possible.”
His eyes gleamed. “Come with me to America and find out.”
She stared.
“Marry me.”
She froze.
His eyes darkened with challenge. “If you dare.”
Epilogue
Leslie stood at the railing of the frigate, Evan’s arms wrapped tight around her as the ship rose and fell with the choppy waters. The Atlantic stretched out before them. Warm, salty air whipped the hair that had broken free of the braid coiled about her crown. Evan nuzzled her ear.
“Are you certain we will not encounter pirates?” she asked.
“I am not at all certain,” he murmured.
A thrill went through her—both because of the tease of his mouth against her neck and the idea of facing down a pirate ship. She’d seen the sword Evan kept in his quarters. She would dearly love to see him wield the weapon. They had two months—more, if they were fortunate and the wind blew against them—to encounter pirates.
“Perhaps we should retire to my quarters, Mrs. MacLean.” His warm breath washed over her ear.
Leslie smiled. “We have spent nearly the entire week of our married life in your quarters.”
“A newly married man is expected to spend a great deal of time alone with his wife.” He kissed her where shoulder met neck.
She shivered.
“Unless you are growing tired of me.”
Leslie kept her hold on the railing, but relaxed her head against his shoulder. “That is not possible.”
“I am pleased to hear that. Beware, however. With these rough waters tonight, we might be taking our
lives in our hands trying to stay in my bed.”
Leslie turned and wrapped her arms around him. “I am willing to take the risk.”
Evan lifted a brow. “Indeed?”
She nodded and pressed her body closer against his. “A woman in love risks much.”
He flashed a heart-stopping smile. Then kissed her.
###
Other Marriage Maker Collections
The Original Marriage Maker Saga
Worth of a Lady
The Marriage Wager
A Lady by Chance
How to Catch an Heiress
Rules of Refinement
One Good Gentleman
Shameless
Redemption of a Marquess
A Marriage of Necessity
The Marriage Maker Goes Undercover
A Scoundrel in the Making
Her Wicked Highland Spy
My Lady of Danger
The Marriage Obligation
Daughters of Scandal Collection
A Lady in Pearls
A Most Unusual Scandal
The Lady’s Book of Love
Brazen
COMING SOON
The Beasts of Blackstone Abbey
Flowers of Scotland
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