Page 46 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
Eddington, grimacing from the pain, raised the knife once more, his intentions clear and deadly. Max's heart raced as he pulled the hammer back on his second pistol. There was no room for error, no second chances. He aimed and fired again, the second shot ringing out with a finality that seemed inevitable.
This time, the bullet found its mark with deadly precision. It pierced Eddington's skull, and the man's body jerked once before collapsing heavily atop Violet, who let out a muffled cry of distress.
Max rushed forward, his boots thudding against the soft earth as he reached them. He pulled Eddington's lifeless body off Violet and threw it to the side with more force than necessary. It wasn’t even anger. Eddington was no longer a threat—merely an obstacle keeping him from her. From touching her, from hearing the sweet sound of her breath and the beating of her heart. Things, he’d thought, he would surely never hear again. He then knelt beside Violet, his hands gently checking her for injuries.
“Violet, where are you injured?”
“Only my head,” she said, clinging to him. “But as you’ve often said, it’s hard enough to withstand almost anything.”
The laugh caught him off guard. “Do not jest. Not at a time like this.”
She glanced over to where Eddington lay on the ground, blood oozing from his shattered skull. A shudder wracked her.
“Violet, it’s over. He's gone," Max said softly, trying to calm the tremor in his voice. His eyes searched hers for any sign of serious harm, his relief palpable when he found none that were immediately visible. “He will never harm you again.”
Violet's breaths were shaky, her body trembling from the shock and exertion. But as she looked up at Max, her eyes filledwith a mixture of fear and relief, a tear tracked down her cheek, cleansing some of the dirt and blood smeared there.
Max helped her to sit up, wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace. The sun had set completely now, leaving them in the soft embrace of twilight. Around them, the forest seemed to sigh, the tension of the moment dissipating as the immediate danger had passed.
They remained there for a few moments, holding onto each other, the reality of their ordeal settling in. Max whispered words of comfort to Violet, promising safety and vowing never to let harm come her way again.
As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Max and Violet slowly made their way back to Alstead Manor, leaving the dark memories of the forest and the fallen adversary behind them. The path ahead was uncertain, but they were together, and for now, that was all that mattered.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They had reached Alstead at long last. Violet trembled from the exertion and likely from the lingering fear, though she was loathe to admit it. They did not go immediately to their chamber, instead Max carried her into the study. Once there, he left her for a moment, speaking in hushed tones to the butler. A few words in their whispered conversation stood out to her. Their bodies. Theirs. Who else had Eddington killed?
He turned back to her, closing the distance. Then he sank to his knees before the chair where he’d placed her. "I thought I had lost you. That I had failed you in some unforgivable way," he confessed, his voice breaking as he pulled her into his arms. He held her close, as if he feared what might happen should he let her go. Muffled against her hair, he uttered one heartbreaking phrase. “I thought I had failed you.”
Violet wrapped her arms tightly around him, her own body still trembling from the shock and the residual fear. "No, Max, you didn’t fail me," she murmured, her voice steady despite the tremors that ran through her. "You came for me. You saved me." Her assurance was firm, meant to soothe both his fears and her own.
They stayed like that for a moment, in the middle of his study, servants coming in and out to deposit bandages and poultices. They didn’t notice but continued holding each other in a desperate embrace. Max felt a swell of emotions he had never anticipated—a mixture of fear, relief, and a burgeoning realization of how deeply his feelings for Violet had rooted.
As he slightly pulled away to look at her, the last rays of the setting sun struck the windows, casting long shadows on the floor. But the light struck his face, highlighting the chiseled perfection to be found there. But it was the look in his eyes and the conviction in his voice that held her in sway. "Violet, Nigel told me you were dead.”
“Nigel?”
Max nodded. “Yes. He didn’t have much of a conscience, but enough of one that he balked at murdering you in cold blood. He came here to tell me that Eddington had carted you away from our garden, thinking you dead.”
“I very nearly was,” she stated. “Where is Nigel now, Max?”
He looked away from her. “He’s in the woods, where Eddington first left you.”
“Is he—?” She broke off, unable to ask the question.
“Yes, Violet. He’s gone. Eddington stabbed him with that blasted knife… twisting it in such a way that there was no hope of survival. He was bleeding too rapidly.”
Violet knew that she ought to feel more at his death than she did. In the end, he’d tried to help her, after all. But it was too little and far too late. Had Nigel’s father lived, had Ethella not been such a wretched human being, he might have fared better in life. As a boy, there had been moments of sweetness, moments where his true heart had shown—but Ethella had stamped that out with her conniving ways and her cold disapproval.
“Did he… I hope he had a moment to ask for forgiveness,” she managed.
“He did,” Max assured her. “The very last thing he did, Violet, was to tell me you lived. That Eddington, contrary to what he’d told them earlier, had not actually killed you. When I went into those woods with him, it was not to rescue you. Our intent, at that time, was simply to recover your body. Had it not been for Nigel’s change of heart, today’s outcome would have been terribly different. In ways that I cannot bear to think of anymore.”
She shuddered. “I cannot think how awful that must have been for you.”
“It no longer bears consideration. Because you are here. You are home with me where you belong… and I may never let you out of my sight again.”
A moment later, the study door opened and Hampton, lounging in a silk-lined basket with his tail wagging, was carried in by a footman. A hero’s entrance.
