Harry walked into the room.
She gave a little gasp, a mixture of shock and utter relief, but didn’t let go of the letter opener.
He looked much as she’d seen him this morning, such a long time ago, still in the same shabby coat and muddy boots, only now the mud was dry, and with his hair more than a little windswept. She swiped her free hand across her eyes in wonderment, almost expecting him to vanish in a puff of smoke. But he didn’t.
“Miranda.”
For a moment she thought her knees might give way with relief, but she managed to say standing as their eyes locked together.
Then, “Harry!” And she was out from behind the bed and across the room in a trice and in his arms, holding onto him as though she never wanted to let go. Which she didn’t. He must have been feeling the same because he enfolded her to him, pressing her close with his strong arms tight around her.
A moment later his mouth found hers and he was kissing her with even more passion than this morning. Their first kiss might have been hours ago now, but this one made up for the long gap. So much had happened since their meeting in the meadow she could hardly believe it was even the same day. But she kissed him back with all the fervor of someone who’d thought this could never happen.
He was holding her up as though he thought, possibly correctly, that she might be about to swoon into his arms as she’d done at daybreak. He was right. Her whole body felt giddy with something more than just relief that he was here to rescue her as, drunk with thesensation that he loved her enough to do so, she reached up and buried her fingers in his hair.
At last, the kiss came to an end, leaving her lips tingling. Pressed to his chest, she could feel his heart pounding in concert with her own. Two hearts beating as one. Forever. Damn the duel. Sir Julian needed locking up and the key throwing away. She wasn’t about to let him try to kill Harry.
She opened her eyes just as his quizzical gaze fell on the letter opener still clutched in her hand like a dagger. His eyes twinkled with amusement. “What’s that for? Did you think I might send you a letter instead of coming in person?”
She shook her head, able to smile at last. “Absolutely not. It’s to stab Sir Julian in the eye with if he made an attempt on my virtue.”
He raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Here was I thinking you were a mild-mannered little thing who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and now you turn out to be quite the little vixen. Should I beware?”
How ridiculous this was when they had no time to lose. She pulled away from him or they’d be standing there all day. “Quick, we have to get away right now. I think he’s downstairs somewhere.”
He caught her hand and they turned towards the open doorway as one.
Sir Julian stepped into the room, a pistol, probably a duelling pistol, raised in his right hand and pointing squarely at Harry’s chest.
Miranda stared, her mind, just for that instant, a blank of fear.
“Oh no you don’t,” Sir Julian said, his voice strangely level, as though he were discussing the weather with an acquaintance.
“Get behind me,” Harry muttered, and thrust Miranda forcefully out of the way of the pistol.
What was he doing? She wasn’t the one in danger of being shot. She should be standing between the two men, to protect Harry.
“Just where is it you think you’re going?” Sir Julian asked, still frighteningly unemotional, one ginger eyebrow raised.
“I’m taking Lady Madeley back to Windrush Hall where she’ll be safe,” Harry said, his voice steely. “Please lower your weapon and allow us to pass before things get any more out of hand.”
It seemed that mad people did show the whites of their eyes. Sir Julian’s were bulging so wide open she could see white all around the pale irises. The effect was terrifying. He did not for a minute look like he was in the sort of mood to stand down.
Miranda stepped out from behind Harry, aware of her heart pounding against her stays, from fear, this time, rather than love. She fought to keep her voice level. “My cousin has come to take me home, Sir Julian.” Best not to remind him she intended to marry Harry. “You know you cannot keep me here against my will. You should remember that you’re a magistrate and should lead by example to others less well versed in the law than you are.” She had a feeling she was gabbling. “So, if you could kindly lower your gun, as Sir Henry has requested, I should very much like to leave with him. Now. My daughters will be worrying about their mother. I’m sure you don’t mean to upset me or my daughters, do you?”
Hers was the voice of calm reason, the steadiness in it thanks to her mother’s training to take anything in her stride.
Sir Julian shook his head as though trying to rid himself of something, the pistol wavering back and forth as he did so. “Be quiet, Miranda. I don’t want to hear the words he’s put into your mouth.” He levelled the gun at Harry’s chest again, his finger twitching on the trigger. “Your daughters will have to wait, can’t you see? They can have you back soon enough. When you and I are married and they come to live here with you. As your late husband always intended you all to do. As you have promised me you will do.” His gaze wavered between Harry and her and the pistol wavered as well.
He was deranged, quite deranged.
“Listen to Lady Madeley,” Harry said. “Let her go and I will stay here. There’s a horse for her outside with one of my servants. Let herpass you and go downstairs and leave. You have no reason to keep her here.”
Sir Julian’s lower lip jutted like that of a recalcitrant child. “She’s mine. You shan’t have her.”
“Leave, Miranda,” Harry said. “It’s me he wants to shoot, not you. You’ll be safe if you leave now.”
Miranda looked from Harry’s set face to Sir Julian’s wild one. If she left, he was going to shoot the man she loved. She couldn’t let him do it.
