“It didn't occur to you that if you were to catch me off guard I might shoot you?”
“You didn't.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Elise approached. “Is that Mr. Branbury?”
“It is,” Phoebe replied, and started toward him.
He dismounted and came forward, meeting her halfway. “Phoebe,” he said, and she heard the tender note in his voice and realized his intent.
“Oh, Adam, you're only causing yourself pain by coming here.”
“Phoebe,” he began again, then looked at the crowd gathered. “Over here,” he motioned toward his horse, “I'd like a private moment.”
“Quite inappropriate,” Ingersol muttered.
“Phoebe,” Elise called. “Perhaps Mr. Branbury would care to join us at the inn?”
“Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace,” Adam gave a gallant bow.
“Indeed,” Elise said, surprising Phoebe with her icy tone. “Lord Ashlund won't appreciate his future wife being waylaid on the road.”
“Phoebe and I are close friends," he replied. "I would die to protect her honor.”
Elise raised a brow. “You damage her honor by insisting upon privacy.”
Even in the muted light of the moon, Phoebe saw his face redden.
“Here here, now,” Lord Ingersol came forward, “if the young lady is engaged to another man, what right have you to be bothering her?”
Adam stiffened and looked pleadingly at Elise. “It is of the utmost importance that I speak with Phoebe. I will keep her but a moment.”
“Phoebe,” Elise began, but Phoebe stopped her.
“Your Grace, Adam is an old friend. I owe him, at the very least, a moment of my time. We will only be a few feet away. Rest assured, Mr. Branbury’s intentions are honorable.” She turned and started toward the trees. “Don't dally, Adam,” she said in a whisper. “One of them is bound to protest in earnest at any second.”
Adam hastened to follow her.
When they reached the edge of the tress, Phoebe whirled. “What in God’s name is wrong with you?”
“Phoebe—”
“No,” she said, “don’t bother explaining, it’s quite clear why you're here, not only to me, but to every person standing over there.”
“I had no idea there would be such an entourage. Phoebe.” He took her hand in his.
“Please, Adam, don't do this.” She tried to pull free, but he held tight and took a step deeper into the trees.
He stopped within the shadows and blurted, “We could reach Gretna Green in a few hours.”
“Adam—” she started, but the despair in his voice halted the intended retort. “Adam,” she said more softly, and squeezed his hand, “you worry me. I've never seen you like this.”
“Desperation drives a man.”
A strange pang went through her. “I have never misled you.”
“There was a time…”
“Once, yes, but we were young. How often have I explained it was infatuation?”
“You deemed it infatuation after reading your father’s letter,” he retorted.
Phoebe stiffened. Adam and Alistair were the only two people who knew about the letter. She regretted both.
“I care for you. Adam, but you go too far.” She added in frustration, “For God’s sake, why force me to hurt you? I have always been honest with you.”
He dropped her hand as if he held hot coals. “Honest with me? You're not honest with yourself. How am I to believe you are capable of being honest with me?”
“You have the most abominable way of making me wish I had shot you.”
“How does your future husband feel about your quest, Phoebe?” Adam demanded, and she was startled to realize how much he knew about her. Worse, how obvious she'd been in regards to her feelings about her father.
“I have had enough.” She whirled, but he caught her arm.
“Oh, no you don’t. Answer me."
An instant of silence passed.
“I’ll be damned,” he breathed. “You haven’t told him.”
She jerked her arm free and turned to go.
“That's unfair, don’t you think?” he snapped. “Doesn’t the poor fellow have the right to know your heart belongs to another man?”
Phoebe whirled. “How dare you?”
“Phoebe,” Adam said, his voice suddenly soft, “I know what your father means to you. Fool that I am, I would share you with him. Can your new love say that?”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I can change nothing.”
“You know why. I love—"
The deafening roar of a shot rang out and Adam staggered backward a pace.
“Adam?”
Phoebe stood frozen for an instant, confused, then, lunged toward him. She grabbed his outstretched hand. He gripped her fingers, then his hold slackened and he slumped against her. His knees buckled and Phoebe caught him, his weight dragging her down with him. They landed together, her on her knees, him cradled in her arms.
Adam grasped her hand. “Phoebe.” The word was a mere whisper.
Something warm spread across her abdomen and she touched the sticky substance seeping from his chest.
He grabbed her shoulder, dragging her face closer to his. “I'm sorry.”