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“Lead won’t hurt the wolven, but it will kill you, correct?”
The driver held his hands up. “It might, my lady.”
“Then I suggest you better run so I don’t have to find out.”
She cocked the trigger when he didn’t respond.
“Miss Willoughby, you have no idea what you’re doing.”
“You are most mistaken. I am perfectly capable of shooting a gun.” Her voice shook, but her grip was steady.
“You’re ruining your life for that beast,” he said.
“My life was going to be spent inside an asylum if my husband didn’t come to rescue me.” She took a step closer, hoping that her dress concealed how much her legs were shaking. “He’s a duke, and he will make sure you never work for any respectable family in the countryside ever again. Unless you do as I say and run.”
The driver let out a sigh and turned to jog down the road.
Phillipa stood with her arms stiff and her finger on the trigger until she could no longer see the man in the dark.
But she had to remain vigilant. She knew there was a strong possibility—if he could catch up with the horses—that he would come back for her with her mother and Father Donnelly in tow.
Right now, she couldn’t think about any of that until she found out if her husband was still alive.
She dropped to her knees, tucking the gun into the skirt of her dress. It didn’t seem like Wesley had moved since the fall. How long had it been? The encounter with the driver seemed to happen in slow motion. But in reality, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.
She had no idea how to save a wounded wolven. The lead bullets shouldn’t have affected him, but the fall had knocked him out cold.
“Wesley,” she said softly, like she was afraid to wake him. Her hands were on his shoulders, as she needed to balance herself to get close to his ear. “Please tell me you can hear me.”
He didn’t answer.
Emotion rushed to her eyes as the gravity of the situation sunk in. She was alone, on the side of the road in the dark, with a wolven who was possibly dead, and definitely her husband. She burned all bridges with her family, she wasn’t sure if the driver would come back to finish what he started, and she had no way to contact anyone at Broadstone Hall, if they even wanted to hear from her.
She ran her hands over his jacket, the fine velvet of his lapels feeling soft and absurd under her touch. Her hands came to a stop over his heart.
The rhythm was soft, but the thump was there.
“Oh, Wesley, please, if you can hear me, please…do something. Open your eyes, move your arm. Something. Anything.”
A soft groan radiated from his lips. It was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.
“Yes! Okay.” She had no idea what to do next, but he was alive, just like she’d always known he was. She’d kept the faith that he would come back to her, and he did. They would get through this. “I will get you back to Broadstone Hall.”
Another moan. She fell on top of him in sheer relief and gratitude, but then moved away quickly, in case she was hurting him. He’d already suffered enough trying to save her. Now it was her turn to save him.
His arm curled around her, pulling her in close.
“Love,” he said so softly.
“I love you too, Wesley.” She sighed against the fur on his snout. “And I never thought I’d have another chance to tell you. But I’m afraid we can’t stay here. If you’re hurt, other animals will be able to sense it. Can you move?”
“Getting there.” The words were barely audible, and very wolven.
“What hurts?”
“Head. Back. Everything.”
He had a pretty hard fall, with her on top of him. She hadn’t considered the possibility of broken bones.
