Page 95 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
“How bad is it?” I crawled past Mr. Darcy to see.
She lifted the tyke onto her lap. “Grazed,” she sang gently, then hummed while she turned him. His flanks rose and fell in rapid pants. “Here.” Without touching, her finger followed a long, straight mark on one side of his torso. The scales were bent in a shallow groove, and shining, as if scraped to a high polish.
Her song faded to quiet. When the tyke remained calm, she spoke. “When they are angry, their scales lock. A shot must be square to penetrate. He is hurting, but not grievously injured.” Her blue eyes were serious. “They are much tougher than we are.” I let out a relieved breath.
Mr. Darcy had risen. He cut the ropes that bound the maid, who thanked him and sat up, rubbing her wrists. She seemed far calmer than I would have been. He threw his jacket over the ruin of the Frenchman’s face and throat.
He returned to look down at the man he had killed. After several seconds, he turned to his sister.
“Are you well, Georgiana?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered distractedly and began humming to the tyke again.
I closed my eyes, still kneeling, and felt for the tyke’s awareness. The wall ofred fury was gone. His pain folded into my own body, a burning line on my ribs.You are very brave, I thought, and felt his head turn to me.
“How do you do that?” asked Miss Darcy. My eyes snapped open and met her curious gaze. “Command him, when you are not bound?”
At his sister’s question, Mr. Darcy turned. Waiting for the answer.
Wonderful. Trying to choose a reply, I licked my lips and felt the sting of broken skin.
There were distant shouts. A bell began to clang. The alarm was raised at last.
Mr. Darcy headed toward the doorway.
“Wait,” I called to him. My secret was revealed anyway. “There was another man. Let me check first.”
I closed my eyes and encouraged the tyke to go into the hall. I heard him plop from Miss Darcy’s lap, then his paws padded past me, limping, even as I saw myself through his eyes, my dress shimmering in peculiar shades. I could have counted the individual threads.
The hallway would have been dark to my eyes, but the tyke saw differently. Violet light streamed through the windows.
“The hall is empty…” I said, even as something warm appeared at the end. “Wait. A man approaches.”
The man was walking stealthily by the interior wall, although he was obvious to the tyke’s eyes. But the tyke felt curious, not concerned. The man’s gait was familiar to me as well, and he wore a misshapen hat. “It is Mr. Rabb.”
“Rabb!” Mr. Darcy shouted, startling me to open my eyes.
Mr. Rabb ran into the room, a pistol in his hand and another jammed into his belt. “Sir, there are intruders—” He broke off, seeing the bodies on the floor.
“We have encountered them,” Mr. Darcy said dryly.
“And killed them,” Mr. Rabb said. He appraised Mr. Darcy. “You?”
“I took one of them,” Mr. Darcy said. “Then I froze like a fool. Wellesley will be scathing when I tell him. He always accuses me of having a gentleman’s delicacy when we fence.”
“Mr. Wellesley is a soldier,” Mr. Rabb said. “He knows what it means to kill a man. I was horrified my first time.”
“I will not freeze again,” Mr. Darcy said firmly. “Not when those I love are threatened.”
I had fixated on the beginning of that exchange. “Youfencewith ArthurWellesley?” Mr. Wellesley was the commander of England’s forces in the Peninsular War against Napoleon.
A memory returned: me, mocking Mr. Darcy at Netherfield by suggesting they played cards.
Mr. Darcy looked at me. “Yes, Miss Bennet. And you commanded a draca, bound to another husband and wyfe, to fetch me from the music parlor, and then to save my life. Which is more remarkable?” His forehead wrinkled. “Your lip is bleeding.”
He fell to his knees in front of me and lifted my chin with his fingers. His thumb grazed my bruised cheek, almost too light to feel.
My breath had stopped. My eyes were wide.
