What Bened saw made his blood run cold and not simply because the third man had managed to slip up behind him. Primrose stood there aiming her pistol at a man who had evidently intended to stab him in the back. He hoped the man could not see the cloudiness of her gaze or her fear. The threat she tossed out in a calm, cold voice made him proud even as he bit back the urge to order her to run.
The men in front of him demanded his attention and he swiftly pushed them back with pistol and sword. They all knew the pistol held only one shot so was only a threat until he fired it, that he would have no time to reload it and fire again before they could bring him down, but, for now, the threat of being the one who got shot was enough. What he needed to do was push the men in front of him so far back and in such a way that it kept them back long enough for him to help Primrose.
“Sir,” Primrose said when the rogue she faced slid a step closer to her. “Do not move.”
“Pretty wee thing like you will not shoot a man.”
“Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
Primrose was proud of how cold she sounded despite how she was inwardly shaking with terror. The very last thing she wished to do was shoot the man but she was determined to do it if he threatened Bened again. It would haunt her forever and she knew it, but she would find that far easier to deal with than seeing Bened stabbed in the back.
Just as she began to believe the man would allow her to keep him at bay, he lunged at her. She shot him before she even finished the thought of doing so. Her aim was a little to the right so, instead of the horrible wound she had intended to inflict, she caught him in the upper right leg. It still took him down but she doubted he would stay there long.
With a flurry of sword work, Bened wounded both men facing him. They retreated and he took the chance to hurry to Primrose’s side. The man she had shot lunged for him and Bened kicked his arm. The snap of a bone and the man’s scream assaulted his ears. That and the gunshot would, he hoped, draw a few people to the alley to investigate.
“Can you reload your pistol?” he asked as he placed himself between her and his attackers.
“I can.”
“Then do so as swiftly as you can. These men are not the sort to be down for long.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath to steady herself and began to reload her pistol.
A gunshot and a man’s scream should bring people running, she thought as she fought to do what she had to with care yet some speed. Relief nearly sent her to her knees when she accomplished the chore and could stand and face the enemy along with Sir Bened. Her attempt to stand at his side was swiftly and very firmly thwarted, however. Bened just kept shifting that big strong body of his to keep himself between her and their attackers.
Before either of them could do another thing, six men raced into the alley, stopping just inside as they studied the scene. That hesitation gave two of the men who had tried to kill Bened a chance to run, however. Two of the men who had rushed to their aid went after them but Primrose doubted they would be successful in capturing the men. The one she had shot had no chance to attempt an escape and was being yanked to his feet by two others. The remaining two approached her and Bened.
“Are you hurt, miss?” asked the older of the two.
“No,” she said. “You arrived in time.”
Bened nodded and slung his arm around Primrose’s shoulders, ignoring her start of surprise. “And we are grateful for it. I am not sure how much longer I could have kept them from robbing us and putting their filthy hands on my wife.”
Primrose was surprised at how smoothly Bened lied to the men who had rushed to their aid. She had to admit it was a good lie, though, as it nicely explained what was going on in a way that would probably prompt very few questions or doubts. The man they had wounded just glared at them. He was clearly no more eager to explain what was really behind the fight than they were. She also tried to ignore the small thrill of delight that went through her at hearing the words my wife on Bened’s lips.
She leaned into him, turning her face into his chest so that the men he spoke to could not see her expression. The last thing she wished to do was to spoil Bened’s game. It could prove as much help to the men who had attacked him as it did her and Bened but there was nothing to be done about that. They simply did not have the time or the proof to drag out the whole true story.