“You did nothing of the sort. I saw the pistol. I intended to pull my attacker into the line of fire.”
As it happened, Sophie’s knife had caused the shooter’s arm to jerk wildly, sending the bullet into Alex’s assailant’s leg rather than his head. Alex had been obliged to knock the man unconscious.
“Oh,” Sophie whispered. “Oh. I thought…I thought I’d saved your life. I thought…”
She thought she’d fought death in the dark and won. But she hadn’t. Alex was alive, yes, but what of the other men? She’d killed one herself. She’d heard the knife hit, seen the shadowy figure fall. She hadn’t beaten death at all. She’d lent it a helping hand.
Disgusted with herself and uncertain what to say to Alex now that her anger had turned to shame, she nudged her horse forward into a slow walk, intending to think the matter through.
Alex followed suit, bringing his mount beside hers. One look at her crestfallen expression and he felt all his anger drain away, promptly replaced by remorse.
He was a heel. An absolute heel. She’d been proud of what she’d done to night. And if he hadn’t been so furious with her for putting herself in danger, so consumed with his fear for her safety, and (and he hated to admit this), his wounded vanity that a woman should feel it necessary to come to his rescue, he would have realized he was proud of her as well.
He cleared his throat awkwardly and did his best to swallow his ocean of pride. “It is possible you did save my life,” he offered. “It was very dark, and I may have miscalculated where the bullet would hit. And you did dispose of that last man very effectively.”
There, that should make her feel better.
She stared vacantly at the trees. “I killed him.”
Alex frowned. Clearly, she was not feeling better. He reached over and grabbed the reins of her horse, stopping them both.
Sophie groaned. “Not this again.”
He ignored that. “No one died to night, Sophie.”
She stared at him in bewilderment for a moment. Then shook her head as if to clear it and began babbling. “What? Are you sure? Because…you…and my knife…and then he—”
Alex cut her off before she confused the both of them. “Your knife caught him in the arm. He fell into the window and it knocked him out.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely. The first two men I managed to render unconscious, the third you hit with your knife, and the fourth took the bullet in the leg, and I knocked him out afterward.”
The implications of what he was telling began to seep in. “No one died,” she said slowly.
“Nary a one,” Alex replied, immensely relived to see the light returning to her eyes. He couldn’t see it very well in the semidarkness of early morning, but he knew, knew by the sound of her voice, it was there. “In fact,” he continued, “you may very well have saved the last man’s life. I had intended to aim his head at the bullet.”
“I saved his life,” Sophie repeated, smiling now and sitting a little straighter in the saddle.
“Little as he deserved it, yes, you did.”
“No one died,” she repeated yet again. She couldn’t help it. It felt so good to say it, so good to hear it. Maybe too good….
“I heard a scream,” she said quickly. “When you went to get the horses.”
Alex’s expression darkened. “Ah yes, the boy they left behind to watch the horses. Lad couldn’t have been more than ten. I was soundly tempted to take him over my knee. You needn’t worry. I frightened him into submission merely by showing up. He very nearly tied himself up for me.”
“Thank God.” She’d done it, then. She’d conquered death this night. Not one of those men had died. Not one. Which meant…Dear God, which meant—
“Should we be sitting here? They’re likely to wake up at any moment—”
“Relax, Sophie,” Alex said, but let go of her reins and allowed the horses to begin moving. “I cut the straps on their saddles and scattered the horses. If they’re chasing us, which I doubt, they’re doing it on foot.”
Dawn came and went well before they reached London. By the time they reached William’s house, the sun had worked its way fully up, and Alex had worked himself into a full fury.
The lies William had told them both had put Sophie in danger. She could have been hurt, or killed, or God only knew what else. The thought was enough to make him see red.
He pounded loudly on the front door.
Sophie shot him a nervous glance. “Maybe we should wait—”
“No. We finish this now.”
The door opened and a young man appeared.
“Your Grace.”
Alex grabbed Sophie’s hand and barreled past the youth and into the front foyer.
“Where is he, Sallings?” Alex demanded.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Sophie offered.
“Mr. Fletcher is in his study, but…wait, please, Your Grace, not again!”
Sophie allowed herself to be dragged down the hall, followed closely by the young man.
“He’s rather young for a butler,” she commented to Alex.