“No, no, quiet,” she said through tears.
“I—" Adam coughed hard "—love—"
He went limp.
“Adam.” She felt for a heartbeat, her hand wet with blood, but found no pulse thrumming against his neck. “Dear God. Adam. No!”
An unexpected sound penetrated her mind. The pounding of boots on ground? Phoebe looked up, barely able to focus on the two men who skidded to a halt beside her. She hugged Adam, ignoring the iron grip on her arm. She shook the hand off, then glanced sharply up. The drawn pistol the man held registered in her brain.
“Why?” she cried, and lunged for his weapon.
“Phoebe!” Kiernan jerked the pistol aside, sending the shot into the darkness. “Mather!” he shouted as Phoebe wrestled for the gun.
“I’m all right, sir,” he called. “You missed me by at least an inch.”
Phoebe’s grip slipped and Kiernan’s chest clenched at the realization that the slick warmth on her hands was blood. He wrenched the pistol free of her grasp, then stuffed it into his waistband and went down on his knees beside her.
“Phoebe.” He gripped her shoulders. "Are you hurt—did he hurt you? Who is he?"
“Miss!” a man called from the edge of the trees.
“Phoebe.” Kiernan felt her face, her neck and down her bodice, but found no wound or blood soaked fabric. His mind raced. Had the man she still hugged been shot? "What happened?" Kiernan demanded.
The noisy pounding of feet on the ground was followed by Elise calling, “Phoebe,” as she hurried into view.
“Back, Duchess,” Niall shouted, and shoved past her, then stopped. “Laird?”
Phoebe looked at his stepmother. “Elise, I—he—”
With one hand, Kiernan crushed Phoebe as close as he could, given that she kept a tenacious hold on the man. With the other hand, he felt for a pulse on the man's neck. Nothing. Two other men appeared beside Niall.
"Phoebe," Kiernan said, but she shook her head violently. He grabbed her to lift her, but she struck out at him.
“No,” she cried, but he yanked her up. The man slid from her lap. “Adam.” Phoebe clutched at him as Kiernan lifted her into his arms.
He hugged her, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. Hot and wet, her tears bathed his skin. “Bring him,” Kiernan ordered Mather.
Mather hoisted Adam over his shoulder.
“Duchess,” Niall said, and she led the way past the onlookers out onto the road.
Kiernan headed for their coach.
A woman standing near the carriage shrank back as he passed. “She shot him,” she gasped an instant later when Mather appeared carrying the dead man.
Calders ran ahead and opened the carriage door for Kiernan.
“Goodness,” Sue exclaimed, and scooted away from Kiernan. “What—”
“Get out,” he ordered.
The girl’s eyes widened and her gaze flicked to the blood that stained his shirt and Phoebe’s bodice. She scrambled from the carriage and Kiernan stepped into the compartment. Elise followed, slamming the door behind her.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” he demanded, settling back and enfolding Phoebe closer.
Elise shook her head. “I'm not sure. Phoebe was speaking with Mr. Branbury. Suddenly, there was a shot and,” she looked anxiously at Phoebe, whose crying had softened, “and the next thing we knew, we saw you with her. What happened?”
“I'm as confused as you. I was following the carriage with the intention of catching up not long after you left the inn, but I found tracks that led off the road. I became concerned it was highwaymen. This Branbury—Adam—what was he doing here?”
Phoebe gripped the lapels of Kiernan’s coat. “Why? Why?” she demanded.
“Shh, love.” Kiernan stroked her hair. He looked at Elise. “What the hell was she doing with him?”
“We tried to stop her. It was clear he had come to talk her out of marrying you.”
“And you didn't stop her?” he snarled, then, “Bloody hell. Forgive me, Elise.”
“Never mind," she said. "I met Mr. Branbury at Shyerton Hall. He didn't seem violent. Did he try to force her to go with him?”
Phoebe abruptly sat up and tried to shove from Kiernan’s lap.
“No.” He held her tight.
“Release me,” she hissed, and batted at his chest with a vehemence that startled him.
Kiernan hesitated, then complied. She flung herself to the seat across from him, beside Elise.
“Why—" A sob broke past her lips.
“Phoebe.” He leaned forward.
“Don’t.” She scooted to the corner away from him.
Kiernan exchanged a confused look with Elise.
“You didn't shoot him?” Phoebe asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
“Damnation, of course not. Why would I?”
“Perhaps you thought the situation was something it wasn’t?”
“Such as?”
“If you thought he was a lover.”
“If you wanted him, I wouldn't have stopped you,” Kiernan replied. "You assured me you'd known him since childhood, but weren't interested in him."