Page 30 of How to Love a Duke in Ten Days
The note was hastily scrawled in a language he was only familiar with because of his Scottish half brother.
Falt Ruadh
Scots Gaelic for “red hair.”
Red Hair.Uncommonly, all three of the women were possessed of some shade of the description. Lady Francesca’s a brilliant, fiery crimson. Cecelia’s a coppery gold. And Lady Alexandra’s a russet mahogany that took on the colors of the sunset when the daylight shone on it as it did now.
Hers was the least vibrant color, and yet the most captivating.
Christ.He berated himself as he lifted the blighter’s arm over his shoulder and hefted the bulk of him with his back.
What sort of man lusted for his fiancée’s bridesmaid?
He heaved the bastard over Merc’s saddle, and had to steady the animal when it danced sideways.
Better not answer that just now,he told himself as he retrieved a length of rope from the saddlebags. He used that and one rein to secure the gunman to the saddle by both feet and the arm that wasn’t broken. The knots weren’t pretty, but they’d hold.
Alexandra recovered the pistol from the wall and checked the cylinder for the remaining bullets.
Two shots left, if he counted correctly.
Piers reached out, palm open, expecting her to gladly surrender the weapon to more capable hands.
He should have known better.
She closed the chamber and lowered the pistol, though her thumb rested on the hammer. “I’ll carry this, if you don’t mind.”
“Idomind.” He motioned to the sack of shite he’dtrussed to the saddle. “He’s perfectly secure. You’re in no danger from him.”
“I’ll carry it all the same,” she said resolutely.
He scowled. “Tell me you at least know how to use the blasted thing should the need arise.”
She didn’t react to his gruff tone and motioned for him to proceed. “Well enough. I practiced on snakes in Alexandria.”
Snakes in Alexandria.He snorted as he turned his back and led Mercury toward the path with one rein.Of course she did.
They walked along the cliff in silence for a long moment, as the waves crashed against the rocks below.
She maintained a wider distance than propriety dictated, keeping the gun next to her opposite hip.
Out of his reach.
She slid a nervous glance at him. “What was on the paper you found?”
Piers reached in his pocket, and extended the note to her. She scanned it quickly before returning it, her pale features remaining carefully impassive.
“I don’t know what it means.”
He could tell that it pained her to admit this.
“It’s Gaelic for ‘red hair.’”
He watched her for a reaction. Her expression remained smooth, tranquil even. But he was a man who’d been in the presence of animals for most of his life.
Even if her countenance didn’t convey fear, he read it in every tense line of her body. The distance she established. Her propensity to startle. The quickened rhythm of her breaths and the hoarse trembling barely concealed in her carefully modulated voice.
“Can you think of a reason someone would wish any of you harm?” he queried.
