Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

M ichael accepted the loaded shotgun. How was he ever going to hit a single clay pigeon when all he could think about was the way it felt to have his wife’s fingers wrapped around his manhood?

“Married life suits you, Dalinridge,” Lord Bexley said, as if he knew exactly where Michael’s thoughts had been. The whole group of men guffawed off to the side as he prepared to take his shot.

He pulled himself together and managed to shatter both of his pigeons. “You’re going to have to try harder than that to throw me off my game, Bexley. I plan to win this one.”

“He’s not wrong,” Lord Epworth said as Michael joined the group and Ash took his turn shooting. “You’re positively beaming with contentment.”

Warmth bloomed in his neck and cheeks. Was he blushing? “What can I say? I married a wonderful woman.”

Not surprisingly, Ash hit both of his pigeons without any hesitation. He came to stand next to Michael as Lord Epworth stepped up to take his turn. He nudged him, moving him surreptitiously away from the group. He leaned in and spoke close to Michael’s ear. “You should know, there are rumors circulating amongst your staff, that you are abusing her.”

Never mind how Ash knew what was circulating among Michael’s staff. Somehow, he always knew everything. “I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Abusing who?”

Ash looked at him as if he were an idiot. “Your wife.”

“Excuse me?” Michael raised his voice, forgetting they’d been whispering.

“Nice shot,” Ash shouted, clapping his hands to draw attention away from Michael’s outburst.

It was Michael’s turn to shoot again, so he reluctantly walked away from their conversation. He stepped up and took his gun, his mind still reeling with the accusation. How could anyone think he was abusing Belle? He was so distracted that his shot barely clipped the side of the disc, sending it hurtling off course, but it didn’t shatter. A loud crack sounded in the distance as something tore through his arm, knocking him off balance. Burning pain erupted on the outside of his arm as he stumbled, dropping his gun and landing hard on his backside.

Chaos ensued as the other men swarmed him, cursing and questions bombarding his ears. His brain was still struggling to catch up with what was happening. He looked down at the pain in his arm. Blood was seeping through a tear in his coat sleeve. Had he been shot? How was that possible?

Someone was tugging his coat off, his sleeve was ripped wide open, and Ash examined the wound.

“He’ll live,” he said to Patrick and then he barked a few orders before the two of them sprinted in the direction where the shot had sounded.

Michael shook himself. “It’s nothing serious,” he assured the men crowded around him. Epworth and Bexley helped him to his feet. He still wasn’t steady, perhaps because of the shock of it all, so he leaned gratefully on them as they assisted him to a nearby chair.

“Don’t worry,” Epworth said. “We’ve sent for a doctor.”

“I’m sure I don’t need a doctor.”

Bexley looked slightly green around the gills as he stared at the wound. “Well, we’ll just see what the doctor says when he arrives, shall we?”

Giles held out a glass of amber liquid. “Drink this, old chap. It will help.”

Michael shook his head. Even pain wasn’t going to send him down that path again. A footman handed him a folded cloth and he pressed it against his torn flesh, gritting his teeth against the pain. Hopefully it would stem the bleeding at least.

Michael was relieved when he spotted Ash and Patrick returning. Leave it to the pair of them to run straight for a madman with a gun. Patrick carried a rifle, but they didn’t have anyone else with them.

After getting rid of the gun somewhere, they returned to the group just as the doctor arrived. “Must have just been a poacher who shot this way by mistake. We didn’t find anyone.” Patrick shrugged, and the others seemed to take it as a sufficient explanation.

“Let’s get him into the house, gentlemen,” the doctor said, after taking a quick look at the wound.

“I can walk now, thank you.” Michael shrugged off his helpers. He didn’t like feeling so weak and vulnerable. They all walked to the house together.

“If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, I’m going to escort Lord Dalinridge up to his chambers where I can see to the wound.”

Michael was relieved when Ash followed him rather than staying with the group. He had questions that needed answering as soon as the doctor was finished.

“I’m glad you joined us, Lord…”

“Just Ash.” The doctor furrowed his brow momentarily but simply nodded.

“You can be my assistant,” he said, pulling chairs and tables where he needed them.

“Well,” Ash chuckled, “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“Now,” the doctor said, drawing up a syringe. “Let’s get some morphine into you.”

“No,” Michael said, shaking his head.

“You’re lucky that it’s only a flesh wound and didn’t hit the bone, but it is quite deep and will need to be stitched. Trust me when I say you’re going to want something to ease the pain.”

Michael shook his head again. “I’ll be fine.”

“No disrespect, Lord Dalinridge, but I am the doctor here, and I am telling you, you’ll need it.”

Michael used a voice that brooked no arguments. “You can either treat me without it, or you can leave.”

The doctor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Very well,” he said with a huff. “But it is going to hurt… a lot.”

“I understand,” Michael said with a nod. Knowing how much of a vice alcohol could be for him, opium, in any form, was not something he ever wanted to try. He’d seen what could happen to people who became addicted to the drug.

“Let’s get that shirt off, then,” Dr. Humboldt said with a resigned sigh.

Ash helped him with the left sleeve, where the injury was. The doctor positioned his arm on top of a towel on the back of the chair and instructed Ash to hold him still.

“Brace yourself,” he warned before pouring some liquid onto the wound. Fire blazed through his arm and Ash had to fight to keep him still. He bit down on his fist to muffle the howl that erupted from his throat. The doctor had not exaggerated the intensity of the pain.

Ash’s hand squeezed his uninjured shoulder. His whole body was shaking by the time the pain began to abate. “You going to live?” Ash asked him.

Michael nodded. “Let’s get this over with, Doc.”

With a sigh, Dr. Humboldt set to the task of stitching the wound closed, asking Ash for different instruments as he worked. The stitches were painful and tedious, but nothing compared to the initial dose of agony. When he was finished, he covered the wound with some kind of ointment and wrapped Michael’s arm with a bandage.

“You’ll need rest to make sure infection doesn’t set in.”

“It’s not an ideal time for resting. You might have noticed I currently have guests?” Michael argued.

“He’ll rest,” Ash said, firmly. “I’ll send everyone home. I’m sure they’ll all understand.” The doctor gave Ash a nod of approval.

Michael rolled his eyes. There was no arguing once Ash had decided something.

Ash rang for Jones and instructed him to escort the doctor out. His face was grim when he returned to sit next to Michael. “It was no poacher. The gun we found is one of yours. There was no sign of whoever fired it.”

What did that mean? It didn’t make any sense. “Is it possible it was somehow an accident?”

“I don’t know.” Ash shrugged. “But why would they run, and leave the gun?”

“Why would they want to shoot me in the first place?” Michael suddenly remembered the conversation they’d been having before all hell had broken loose. “So tell me more about this rumor you heard.”

“Fogg brought it to my attention.”

“Of course he did. Was your valet a spy in a former life?”

Ash shrugged noncommittally. “He doesn’t know where the rumor started, but it would seem, someone said that you dragged Belle into a sitting room during last night’s ball and beat her.”

Michael blew out a long breath. Obviously, he’d not been nearly as discreet as he should have been, and especially with all the extra help they’d hired for the house party, it was irresponsible.

Ash’s brows dropped into a deep vee and his eyes narrowed. “Tell me it isn’t true, Michael. I know you’re better than that.”

He couldn’t believe Ash would even question it. “Of course I’m better than that, Ash. You know I’d never hurt Belle. It isn’t what it sounds like, but I may have done something careless.”

“What does that mean?” he asked slowly.

If it was anyone else, he would have just told them to go to the devil, but Ash was like a dog with a bone when he thought a woman might be in danger. Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I did take her in there for some privacy.”

Ash closed his eyes and nodded his understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“It’s a little odd, though. I didn’t see anyone around when we entered the room.”

Michael could see Ash working through countless scenarios in his head. He nodded decisively. “I’ll send for some extra security.”

“I’m not sure if that’s really necessary.”

Ash completely ignored him. “Right now, I’m going to go send your guests on their way. You are supposed to be in bed.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but Ash just pointed. “Doctor’s orders.”

“You really are a mother hen sometimes, you know that?” The last thing he wanted to do just now was sleep.

“Send Belle up to me before you talk to the others. I’d really like her to hear the story from me, so she doesn’t panic.”

* * *

Belle enjoyed spending time with Rosie. They were kindred spirits in some ways. Rosie understood the feeling of being an outsider.

“Tell me something about Michael,” Belle said as she stirred her tea.

“I don’t really know that much about him, if I’m honest. Of the three of them, I’ve spent the least amount of time with him. He’s always been kind to me though, and I have no doubt he’s a good man.”

“He’s been nothing but good to me,” Belle assured her. “I was hoping you might know some embarrassing story that I could tease him with.”

Rosie laughed and shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint. Right now, I feel like I don’t know any of them. It’s so strange seeing them in these surroundings, and yet, somehow they fit perfectly. It’s easy to forget this is how they were raised. That all of this is also who they are. I would never have thought to see Ash in a ballroom, dancing a waltz.” She brought her hand up to cover a laugh.

“Did Michael not ever live here before we married?” How had that not even occurred to her? She’d seen how happy and proud he’d been in his club. But for some reason, even though they’d spent the night in his townhouse there, it just hadn’t crossed her mind that he actually lived in London all the time.

“As far as I know, they have all lived in Raven Row for a dozen years or so. I know Patrick has felt a bit lost without Michael around. The three of them definitely function better as a unit than they do individually.” She laughed again.

She’d been so wrapped up in meeting tenants, planning this house party with Mrs. Thistle, and of course their goodnight kisses. The wonderful, glorious kisses that she looked forward to every day. And now, she had even more to look forward to. But she hadn’t given any thought to their future and what that would look like. She thought back to when she’d asked him if he was going to leave her again. He hadn’t said no. He’d simply said they needed to plan a house party so that she could be introduced to the important people in his world. Was he still planning to leave her here? Surely he wouldn’t do that to her. Not after last night… and this morning. Desire stirred in her belly as she remembered it.

Before she could think any further on it, the men entered the room. They weren’t their usual jovial selves. They were quiet and reserved and none of their smiles reached their eyes. Ash walked straight to her, without even acknowledging any of the other ladies. Something was wrong. Where was Michael?

“Belle, might I have a word with you?”

As he escorted her from the room, dread filled her stomach. “Is he alright?” she asked frantically, as soon as they were through the door.

“Michael is fine.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “He did sustain a very minor injury.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s resting in his chambers and—” She didn’t wait to hear the rest of whatever he was going to say. She turned and sprinted down the hall. She had to get to him, to see him with her own eyes. She cursed the size of the house as she traversed stairs and more corridors, completely out of breath by the time she burst through the door to his chambers.

“Michael!” He stood in the middle of his room, Jones just finishing with his tie.

He smiled at her and dismissed his valet. “That will be all, Jones. Please make sure we’re not disturbed.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Ash said you were injured.” She was still trying to catch her breath.

“He was supposed to make sure you didn’t panic,” he said with a laugh. “I’m fine, Belle. It’s just a scratch.” But he wasn’t fine. His eyes were red rimmed and tight with strain.

He pressed his lips to hers, warm and hungry as they moved over her mouth. She wanted to simply melt and fall into his arms, but no, this was a distraction. She pushed him away and he gasped.

“What happened? Where are you hurt?” she demanded.

“Belle, it’s nothing.” He reached for her shoulder, but she stepped back and folded her arms.

“No,” she said sternly. Stupid tears were pooling in her eyes. “Ash said you were resting, which you’re clearly not doing, but if you’re supposed to be resting, it’s not just a scratch. I’m not completely obtuse, you know.” She dashed the tears away as they trickled down her cheeks.

“Belle, sweetheart, it’s just a small wound on my arm. I’ll tell you everything. No secrets between us, remember?” He held out his arm and she stepped into his warm embrace. He squeezed her tightly and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“This first part is going to sound scary, but remember, I’m fine.” She nodded but didn’t like the sound of that.

“While we were having our shooting competition, I was shot.”

She gasped, even though she had already guessed what the end of the sentence would be. She just hadn’t wanted to believe it.

She stepped away so she could look into his eyes. “Who shot you?” Anger bubbled in her veins. She would march downstairs right now and confront whoever had been so careless.

He chuckled softly. He lifted her chin gently and brought his lips in for another kiss. “Whoever it was, they should be quaking in their boots with you as my protector.”

She punched his shoulder, about to tell him off for teasing her in such a situation, but he hissed in pain. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” He offered her a forgiving smile, but his teeth remained clenched from the pain.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Her heart ached for him.

“I can think of something we can do to take my mind off of it.” He flashed an irresistibly devastating grin.

She should tell him no, that he needed rest, but she wasn’t strong enough to resist the hunger in his eyes. She lifted herself onto her toes and captured his mouth, giving herself freely to the passion of his kiss.