Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

EVELINE/HELENA

"P ut the stone down!" Eveline added a second trembling hand to the butt of the pistol.

Humphrey twisted his head toward her, his dark eyes blazing, and straightened, dropping his arm.

"What do you intend to do with that, Eveline?" he sneered, taking a step toward her.

"Shoot you," she replied, planting her feet and pulling back the second hammer. "Twice."

"You're being ridiculous." Humphrey held out his left hand, gesturing with his fingers. "Give me the gun."

"Now, who's being ridiculous." She forced a bitter laugh, her frozen breath floating upward. "I gave you an instruction… drop the rock."

"You don't even know how to use a pistol." Humphrey tossed the stone far enough away that neither he nor the Duke of Lennox, should he awake, could reach it.

"I possess a myriad of talents of which you are stubbornly unaware." She gestured with the gun. "Move away from him."

Humphrey took one giant step to his left, aligning himself with the edge of the stone bench. "Why do you defend a man who ended his connection with you?"

She licked her lips. Humphrey had a valid argument. But if the Duke of Lennox didn't wish to pursue her, then why did she awake to Humphrey choking the life from him?

"If he ended our engagement, then why is he here?" She tilted her head.

Humphrey shrugged and took a miniscule step forward. "Perhaps you owe him money, too."

"I…" Eveline's eyes flicked to the ruby ring on her finger.

Following her movement, Humphrey snorted. "Or perhaps, like me, he came to reclaim his property."

"I'm not your property." Her gaze snapped back to Humphrey. "Put your foot down."

He complied but edged closer as he completed her request. "You're not going to shoot me, Eveline. You've never hurt anyone in your life."

"People can change."

"No, they can't." He smirked and took another step, daring her. "That's why I knew I'd find you here, preparing to run."

"I said stop."

"Never."

Eveline squeezed the trigger, firing one shot. The recoil forced her arms up, and the bullet zipped past Humphrey's head, lodging itself in the bark of her neighbor's beech tree.

"You nearly shot me!" His hand flew to his ear.

"I won't miss the second time," she said, leveling her arms with his torso.

Humphrey's eyes narrowed, and, like a snake, his hand whipped out and slapped the pistol from her grip before she could react. Smirking, he lunged over the stone bench, his fingers grasping at her face.

His entire body jerked as though he were a dog on a leash, and his hands stopped millimeters short of Eveline. Frowning, Humphrey shook his leg, then he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening. Before Humphrey could speak, his leg wrenched backward, and he fell, striking his head against the corner of the bench and rolling off the side.

The Duke of Lennox struggled to stand, leaning on the bench for support until he regained his balance. One eye nearly swollen shut, he lifted his arms and glowered at Humphrey as he staggered to his feet.

"We have a grievance to settle," the Duke of Lennox growled, wiping his arm across his forehead.

"I don't understand," Humphrey said, touching his fingers to the cut above his eye. "You're a duke. You can have any woman."

"I want that one." The Duke of Lennox nodded toward Eveline.

"Why? No woman is worth this trouble."

The Duke of Lennox kept his eyes on her. "She is to me."

Humphrey swung his fist, but the Duke of Lennox sidestepped the punch, then countered with his left hand, connecting with Humphrey's jaw. Humphrey dropped to the ground with a grunt. The Duke of Lennox stepped over Humphrey's immobile body and retrieved the pistol, then strode to Eveline's side and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her against his hip.

"I heard some interesting gossip," he said, leaning his forehead against hers.

"What did you hear?" Her heart squeezed.

"My fiancée intends to depart Wiltshire without me."

"She's my fiancée," Humphrey murmured, his eyes opening.

Pointing the gun at Humphrey's chest, the Duke of Lennox strode forward, bringing Eveline with him.

"She is my fiancée. Either you acknowledge this, leave, and never return, or I shoot you right now and remove the issue. Decide."

Humphrey scowled at them both. "I'll leave. With Ernest in prison, she'll need someone to keep her company, that is, until you tire of her ridiculousness."

"That will never happen," the Duke of Lennox murmured against her ear.

Swallowing, Eveline nodded, unable to look into his eyes.

"Mr. Drummond, you are not welcome in Wiltshire or any location that contains myself and my lovely fiancée." The Duke of Lennox pointed to the street with the pistol. "I'll offer your regrets to your uncle."

Slowly getting to his feet, Humphrey brushed the snow from his clothing and combed his hair into place. "Had I known how much trouble it would cause, I would have beaten this willful streak out of you the day we first met."

"Do not make me regret allowing you to live, Mr. Drummond." The Duke of Lennox released Eveline and took a step forward. "My title allows for a few missteps outside the law."

Humphrey's hands tightened, but he kept his fists at his sides.

"Your Grace," he said, inclining his head.

Then he strode past Eveline as though she were a ghost, turned to the left when he reached the street, and vanished.

Eveline exhaled the shaky breath she'd been holding. "Is he truly gone?"

The Duke of Lennox didn't answer.

She turned around, and her heart dropped. Unconscious in the snow, his legs draped over the stone bench, the Duke of Lennox lay face up, still gripping the pistol. Dropping to her knees, she pushed on his chest, but he didn't respond.

"Your Grace?" She pulled up his eyelid. "We can't stay outside in the cold."

Again, the Duke of Lennox offered no response.

Chewing on her lower lip, Eveline glanced at the door leading to her house, then back at the Duke of Lennox. The distance didn't appear far, but she wasn't certain how much he weighed.

She collected his jacket, shoved her arms through the sleeves, then scooted around his body to his head. Bending, she slipped her hands beneath his arms and jerked. He slid an inch.

Muttering a slew of inappropriate words, Eveline repositioned her feet and yanked again; he moved another two inches. In this fashion, she tugged the Duke of Lennox down the pathway leading to her house.

When she reached her doorstep, she paused and straightened, scraping the loose strands of hair from her sweaty forehead. Mercifully, Mrs. Hawkins hadn't locked the front door. However, Eveline couldn't determine why the woman hadn't heard the commotion outside the residence.

She opened the door, then grasped the Duke of Lennox again and heaved, grunting as she dragged his limp body onto the doorstep and into the house. Depositing him in the center of the foyer, she gently laid the Duke of Lennox on his back, then darted across the floor and closed the door, locking it.

Uncertain if Humphrey would return, she debated pushing a table in front of the door for an added level of protection, but when the Duke of Lennox moaned, she left off the idea in favor of moving him to a more comfortable location.

Eveline shoved her hands under his arms and lifted, groaning as she dragged him into the parlor. She placed him beside the sofa but didn't possess the strength to lift him from the floor. Instead, she grabbed a pillow from the sofa and positioned the cushion beneath his head.

Lifting his hand, she peeled open his fingers, extricating the pistol from his grip and discarding the weapon on a table beside the sofa. Her gaze slid over his body.

Dried blood coated his face and clothing, and she couldn't decipher which wounds were in most need of treatment. Rising, she stripped his jacket from her shoulders and covered him with the heavy material, then retreated to the kitchen in search of water, bandages, and Mrs. Hawkins.

Peeking her head into the dim kitchen, Eveline's gaze slid across the empty room.

Where was Mrs. Hawkins?

A soft snore rippled out from beneath a closed door leading off the side of the kitchen—Mrs. Hawkins' chamber. Creeping over to the door, Eveline placed her ear against the wood, listening. Another snore crawled out of the room. With a frown, Eveline opened the door and walked into the chamber.

Stretched across the bed, one arm flung over her face, Mrs. Hawkins snored peacefully. Eveline snuck closer and glanced down, her gaze drawn to a half-empty small brown bottle on the nightstand beside the bed.

Laudanum.

That explained why Mrs. Hawkins hadn't appeared when Eveline screamed. She'd need to have a discussion with Mrs. Hawkins tomorrow regarding her use of the drug. If the Duke of Lennox hadn't arrived, Eveline would be… She shuddered, unwilling to speak the words in her mind.

After closing the door to Mrs. Hawkins' chamber, Eveline returned to the kitchen. She stoked the fire, adding several logs to the dying flames, and set the kettle over the fireplace to heat some water. While waiting, she collected several cloths and lined them on a silver tray beside a large porcelain bowl, to which she added the steaming water.

"Please don't be dead," she murmured as she lifted the tray and shuffled out of the kitchen.

The Duke of Lennox hadn't moved—not that she expected him to—from his position on the floor. However, his increasingly pale color caused her great alarm.

She sat on the rug, stationing the tray on her left, and tucked her legs beneath her. Selecting a cloth, she unfolded the material, dipped it into the bowl, and wrung out the excess water. Then she daubed the cloth across his face, wiping the grime from his skin.

"Thank you for rescuing me," she said, dunking the cloth back into the water.

When she returned her arm to his face, his hand grabbed her wrist, and his eyes opened, his intense gaze pinning her in place.

"I'll always come for you," he said, a low moan accompanying the words.

"Levi!" She flung herself at him, crushing him in an enthusiastic embrace.

"Wait." He pushed her backward, his face tensing. "Where's Mr. Drummond? I don't recall anything after I pointed the pistol at him."

"He walked away." She gestured vaguely toward the street. "Then you fainted and fell backward into the snow."

"How did you manage to get me inside?"

"I dragged you."

His jaw dropped. "From the garden?"

Blushing, she lowered her gaze and returned the cloth to the bowl. "I may have ruined your clothing."

"My clothing doesn't concern me." The Duke of Lennox reached out and touched a shredded piece of lace dangling from the destroyed bodice of her gown. "However, yours does."

"You prevented Humphrey from following through with his nefarious intentions. If you had arrived a few minutes later…" She shivered and turned away, collecting the cloth from the bowl of steaming water. "How did you know where to find me?"

"Miss Sinclair sought me out." The Duke of Lennox winced when Eveline wiped the cloth across his forehead. "She reported that she'd seen you with a man of whom you seemed frightened."

"You deduced the person was Humphrey?"

"Mr. Hughes and I reached that conclusion at the same time." He pushed the cloth away from his face. "Why did you leave with Mr. Drummond?"

Looking away from the Duke of Lennox's probing gaze, Eveline returned the cloth to the bowl and released a shuddering sob.

"When he found me hiding in the library, he pulled out a knife and threatened to slit my throat if I drew any attention to myself. Then, he said… he said that you stepped aside after he laid out his grievance to you regarding stealing another man's fiancée."

The Duke of Lennox struggled into a seated position, then turned his body and leaned against the sofa.

"First," he said, his breathing erratic from the effort, "I would never step aside. Ever. If it cost me my last breath, I would happily pay for one more minute in your company. And second, I didn't steal you, Miss Braddock. By your own word, you never belonged to him."

He patted the space on the floor beside him.

Eveline crawled over and sat on the rug, leaning against his arm. "If you didn't steal me, what did you do?"

"I fell in love with you." He cupped her face and gently rubbed his thumb over the bruise on her cheek. "That looks bad."

"You don't look great, either," she murmured, her stomach flipping as he leaned closer to inspect the injury.

"I've suffered through worse," he replied, his eyes flicking to hers. "My brother hits harder."

"What's your brother's name?" Her heart thrummed at his proximity.

"Richard."

"Have I met him?"

"No. He prefers the solitude of our country estate." The Duke of Lennox's gaze dropped to her lips. "Does it hurt?"

"My mouth?"

"Your cheek," he chuckled.

"Oh!" She blushed and dug her teeth into her lower lip. "A little. I suppose it's not as painful as your face."

"My whole face?" His eyebrows raised.

Maybe she was better off outside in the snow.

"No. That is… your eye and your forehead. I didn't want to name the parts, and now I have, and…" She was babbling.

"Eveline." He leaned back and placed his finger on her lips. "Do you love me?"

"Yes." She nodded her head so quickly that it vibrated.

"And do you understand that I love you, too?" He raised his eyebrows. "That I will do everything in my power to prevent anyone—and that includes myself—from harming you?"

"I—"

"Yes or no, Eveline," he cut her off. "It's a simple admission to yourself. Do I love you?"

"Yes."

"Will I ever allow anyone to hurt you again?"

She exhaled a slow breath, staring into his eyes. "No."

"And do I intend to seduce you in the parlor?" His lips twitched.

"You can't!" Heat exploded across her cheeks.

"I can." He leaned closer, his mouth stopping less than a millimeter from hers. "Your brother is currently residing in a different location, and your dress is scandalously inappropriate to receive visitors."

"Should I remove it?" she asked, glancing down at the torn bodice.

"And deny me that pleasure?" He clucked his tongue.

His hand skated across her collarbone, then pushed the ruined material off her shoulder, his fingers tracing soft circles on her exposed skin. Her breath caught.

Pressing his mouth to hers, he wound his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap, splitting her legs over his. He gathered her dress into his fists, then broke the kiss and yanked, ripping the gown over her head, further destroying the delicate material.

"I won't be able to save that one," she murmured, shifting on his legs.

"I'll buy you a new gown," he said, his mouth slamming on hers.

His hands glided down her back and cupped her butt, rocking her forward against his growing erection.

"You're injured," she protested against his mouth.

"I'm not dead."

She leaned back. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." His eyes blazed. "I intend to finish what we started before we were interrupted by Roxburghe."

"You swore to my brother that we would wait until our wedding."

"I almost lost you again tonight, and unless you demand that we adhere to his strict rules, I intend to break my promise to him."

Her stomach clenched, desire flooding her body. She scrunched her face as though considering her options, then grinned, leaned forward, and brushed her lips across his.

"I've never been one to follow my brother's directions," she said, repositioning herself on his lap.

He groaned. His arms wound around her and crushed her body against his torso, his hips already moving against her. His tongue thrust forward, sliding past her lips and gliding along her tongue.

Moaning, she placed her hands on his chest, grinding against him.

One arm released her and slid between their bodies. The Duke of Lennox unfastened his trousers and worked them partially down his legs.

Without instruction, she lifted up, waiting until he grasped hold of himself, and then she lowered onto him, gasping as he slid into her warmth. Her fingers tightened around his shoulders, drawing a low groan from him, and she paused, concerned she'd reinjured him.

"Doesn't hurt," he murmured, grabbing her hips and guiding her into a slow rhythm.

His tongue plunged into her mouth, matching the speed of her body as she ground herself against him. Hands curling around her hips, he increased their pace, thrusting when she rolled forward.

She cried out, her fingers digging into his muscles as her head tipped back. His mouth brushed over her throat, leaving a trail of burning kisses across her skin. Her body caught fire. His name fell from her lips, the word only serving to increase his ardent assault. Every inch of her skin aflame, she wound tighter and tighter, her stomach clenching as she sped toward release.

Her body jerked, and she exploded, vibrating as the orgasm ripped through her. He held her tight, thrusting and drawing out her release until she screamed herself hoarse and sagged against him.

Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her and brushed his mouth across her forehead. When she returned to her body, she realized her current position, still straddling the Duke of Lennox, and gasped, pushing away from his chest.

"Did you…?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word aloud.

"Find release?" He tilted his head.

She nodded, the heat returning to her face.

"I did." He lifted her chin. "Are you concerned about a possible child?"

"Ernest will kill you if I become pregnant prior to our marriage." She gingerly touched the side of his eye. "He's made that intention quite clear."

"I'm stealing Roxburghe's wedding date." The Duke of Lennox sucked in a sharp breath when her fingers passed over the bruise.

Eveline lowered her hand, unwilling to upset Miss Webb after all the kindnesses she and her sister showed Eveline. "There's no need to inconvenience your friends. We can't marry until Ernest is freed from prison."

"Then, we should solve that matter immediately." The Duke of Lennox leaned his forehead against hers. "However, I suggest you change into something a bit more appropriate before we return to the Venning's ball."

"How will that free Ernest?" she asked, a modicum of hope fluttering in her chest. "He admitted to the crime."

"I discovered a piece of lace near the banister on the second-floor landing," the Duke of Lennox said and pulled back, his eyes searching hers. "Mr. Hughes thinks the portion came from the killer's gown."

"Miss Drummond was killed by a woman?" Eveline gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "What kind of lady would murder Miss Drummond?"

"A desperate one,"—the Duke of Lennox's grip tightened around Eveline—"and until we discover who that person is, none of you are safe."