Page 105 of The Trouble with Tigers
“What you see here is a Colt, model 1873. Affectionately, the peacemaker. I imported it from the States. It’s a .45 caliber, and packs quite a bit more punch than the .22s we’ve been firing today. Would you like to try it out before we pack it in?”
“I’d be delighted to," Kitty said with feeling. Although she was keen to try the firearm, she was more pleased about the short delay she'd bought herself. Telling Zeke goodbye was going to kill her.
She and Lord Randall approached the starting mark.
“Its sight is here.” The viscount gestured to the rear of the barrel, as opposed to the hammer.
“Oh, that is different, isn’t it?”
“You’ll hold it like…” He stretched out his arm, adjusted his stance, glanced at her. “You angle your body and stack your—” He broke off. “Perhaps it would be best if I showed you.” Hestepped toward her tentatively, as if he meant to position her arms himself and felt awkward over the notion.
Zeke practically shoved Randall out of the way. “I’ll show her.”
Kitty thought she heard muffled laughter coming from both Caden and Randall.
Her cheeks burned as he crowded in on her. How mortifying. She wriggled and elbowed him in the ribs.
He chuckled low in her ear and refused to give an inch. Widening his stance to place his booted feet on either side of hers, his arms came around her, encircling her, before his warm, large hands covered hers.
“I comprehend the basic operation, my lord,” she said through gritted teeth. “I don’t require your assistance.”
“Nevertheless,” he said in a velvety soft voice, his lips close to her ear, “I insist.”
Kitty closed her eyes as liquid heat rippled through her. She took a fortifying breath, and struggled to maintain her righteous indignation. But how could her will prevail against sandalwood and spice and Zeke’s hard muscled body cocooning hers?
Best to take the shot and get this over with. She pinched one eye closed, and used the other to sight the target.
“Make sure your footing is secure,” he purred. “Do take your time.”
“How can I adjust my stance with your feet in my way?” she hissed.
No question about it; the two observers’ laughter rang through the air.
And then, the brazen peacock propped his chin on her shoulder. “Am I?”
“Seriously, Zeke, you must tell her to—” Randall began.
She squeezed the trigger.
A deafening explosion sounded in her ears, while seemingly in the same instant the most powerful recoil she’d ever experiencedpulled her off her feet, pounding her into Zeke’s chest, while her firing arm shot back, pistol in a death grip in her hands. Or Zeke’s hands. She couldn’t tell. Instinct bade her pinch her eyes closed and crane her neck sideways to avoid the gunstock’s impact. The wood collided with something solid.
And then time slowed.
In the eerie silence and through the acrid smoke, she flew up and up—then back. Trees, then treetops, and finally blue sky, passed before her eyes.
She landed with a thud that stole her breath.
Before she could begin to right herself, rough hands patted her arms, grasped her shoulders, her head, then lifted her to her feet.
“Are you all right?” Caden asked, his throat muscles cording so she knew he shouted, though she could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears.
She nodded and craned her neck searching for Zeke, then stared in horror at the ground behind her where Zeke lay, motionless.
Randall crouched beside him. Garnet red blood matted Zeke’s beautiful golden hair.
She had no coherent thought of twisting out of Caden’s arms, nor of lunging forward and dropping to her knees beside Zeke. She cradled his face in her hands.
“Zeke,” she cried over and over till her throat felt raw.
