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What choice did he have?

“I would not move, not even to breathe.” Pistol drawn, Robyn stepped forward. His usual affable air had hardened into something cold and menacing.

Georgine shivered, never having seen this ferocious side of him before.

He swept a glance over the women—pausing on his sister, then Georgine for half a second—before leveling his gun at Desmond’s henchmen. “I’ll thank you to stop pointing your weapons at the women.”

“You and Tellinger have but a single shot.” Desmond waved his pistol between himself and his men. “You cannot shoot all three of us.”

“But there are three of us, as well.”

Startled, Desmond turned as Quentin Honeybrook stepped out from behind a laurel bush, his weapon raised and his stare murderous. “And I’ll wager this commotion has servants and townspeople descending upon the gardens within seconds. This is a battle you shall not win.”

“Oh, thank God,” Claire whispered beside Georgine. “We are saved.”

Not yet; we aren’t.

“Ladies, move toward the house. Slowly,” Honeybrook instructed, his tone flat and icy.

“The first one that takes a step gets a lead ball,” Desmond’s taller companion countered before spitting on the ground.

“Hold your tongue, Carver.” Desmond speared the man a murderous glare. “I give the orders.”

Then, the callous beast raised his pistol and aimed the barrel straight at Roxina.

Georgine’s blood congealed in her veins, and her lungs constricted so she couldn’t suck in any air.

A growling, furry canine blur hurtled into the scene—Dash, Roxina’s faithful hound.

Desmond staggered as Dash collided with him.

A gunshot cracked like thunder, sending a bird to flight.

A woman screamed, but Georgine didn’t know who.

Two more shots rang out in quick succession.

The scarred man beside Desmond collapsed with a neat hole in his forehead. His pistol clattered beside him.

Oh, my God.

Bile billowed up Georgine’s throat. She’d never seen anyone shot before. Waves of nausea slammed into her, and faintness caused a myriad of tiny black dots to dance before her eyes.

Desmond roared as Dash sank his teeth into the man’s arm. With his free hand, Desmond yanked a blade free from beneath his coat.

“Dash!” Roxina cried in terror for her beloved pet.

“Stay back, Roxina!” Tellinger lunged forward.

Desmond lifted his blade to strike the snarling animal.

Honeybrook didn’t hesitate. With one eye closed, he aimed and discharged his gun.

Desmond’s head snapped back, and before Georgine could blink, he hit the ground. The knife slid from his hand, blood pooling beneath his skull.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Searing heat bloomed in Georgine’s shoulder. She glanced downward, even as she touched the crimson staining her gown. Blood coated her fingertips.