Oh, that gun. “Because I’m not in the habit of strolling about with firearms.” She threw her free hand up as he pushed through the back door and hauled her into the kitchen. “For pity’s sake, where would I even put it?”
They ran nearly headfirst into Christian, Mr. Hunter, and Mrs. Summers. All three, Evie noticed, were carrying weapons and looked quite prepared to use them…even Mrs. Summers, whose implement of choice appeared to be some sort of wooden club.
Oh, hell. Oh, bloody hell. Had she been so very wrong? A carriage accident was one thing, but guns and…whatever that was Mrs. Summers held…were quite another.
“Evie!” Mrs. Summers set aside her weapon to throw her arms around Evie. “We heard shots. Are you hurt?”
“No…I…” Feeling dazed, Evie extended the hug to the point of clinging. “No, I’m unharmed.”
“Oh, thank heavens.” Mrs. Summers whipped her head toward McAlistair, obviously checking for injury even as she asked, “Where is he?”
“Gone,” he answered, but he didn’t look at Mrs. Summers. His eyes, dark and unblinking, remained focused on Evie. “Horseback.”
“We can track him,” Mr. Hunter said, shoving his pistol into a coat pocket and heading toward the door. “The rain will make it easy.”
McAlistair shook his head. “He’s gone to the road.”
Mr. Hunter swore.
“The road?” Evie pulled away from Mrs. Summers. “Isn’t it easier to find someone on a road?
“Not unless you’re already looking at them,” Christian explained. “Can’t distinguish one set of hoofprints from another on a road. He’ll follow it a bit, no doubt, then head off before reaching town.”
“Oh,” she murmured, quite at a loss for anything more intelligent to say.
Christian ran a hand through his hair. “Where was he shooting from?”
And still McAlistair didn’t take his eyes off of Evie. “Woods. West side.”
“And where were—?”
“Evie was at the rocks. I was leaving the house.”
Mrs. Summers gave Evie a hard look. “You were walking about alone?”
She hadn’t been alone, apparently, but she knew that wasn’t what Mrs. Summers meant.
“I thought it was safe,” she mumbled instead. “I’ve been out on the beach before—”
“Not alone.”
“Chastising her now won’t help,” McAlistair said quietly.
Evie was torn between gratitude for his defense and embarrassment at the use of the word “chastise.” She felt like a naughty five-year-old. A five-year-old of less-than-average intelligence. “If I’d thought, even for a moment, there might be a l-lunatic hiding in the woods waiting to shoot at me, I certainly would not have gone. I’m n-not an idiot. I’m not—” She broke off when her voice cracked. She wasn’t angry with Mrs. Summers; she was frightened and ridden with guilt. And furious with herself for twice having been caught in a dangerous situation without her gun. She crossed her arms across her waist, gripping her elbows in an effort to stem her trembling.
Mrs. Summers patted Evie’s arm gently. “We’ll speak of this later. After we have both settled.”
“We’ll be needing to send word to Haldon,” Christian commented. “I’ll ride into town. Could be someone will have seen a lone traveler come before me as well.”
Mr. Hunter nodded as Christian left. “McAlistair and I will search the grounds.”
McAlistair didn’t move. His gaze remained steadfastly on Evie. “He’s gone.”
“Can’t hurt to double check.” When McAlistair still failed to move, Mr. Hunter took him by the arm, nearly dragging him away. “You can take the grounds closest to the house,” Evie heard him say, “in case the women have need of us. I’ll search past the cove and to the north…”
Mr. Hunter’s voice faded to an unintelligible murmur as he led McAlistair off in one direction and Mrs. Summers, taking Evie’s arm, led Evie off in another.
Twenty-five
McAlistair searched the grounds closest to the house, and he searched the house itself, checking and rechecking the locks on the doors and windows. He knew full well there was nothing wrong with them. Just as he knew full well that anyone determined to get inside would find a way. But he needed something to do while Mrs. Summers settled Evie in her room.
It seemed to take a prodigious amount of time.
In truth, it may have been no more than half an hour, but it felt like an eternity passed before Mrs. Summers slipped out through Evie’s door and headed to her own. And another eternity before a soft snore emanated from Mrs. Summers’s room.
He considered what he knew regarding the lady and her naps, and estimated he’d have at least two hours.
What he meant to do in those hours, he hadn’t decided. He only knew he needed to spend them with Evie.
Unwilling to knock and risk the chance of being turned away, McAlistair pushed open Evie’s door. Decisively at first, then cautiously when it occurred to him she might be sleeping—or changing.