Behind the Courtesan - By Bronwyn Stuart Page 0,92
able to charm her himself. She had to keep him talking until she found her moment.
“I don’t care where you got the gun,” Charles yelled. The sound echoed and for a second Sophie hoped Daemon or Matthew would hear the commotion and come back and rescue them.
“Is it yours?” Blake asked. “Because if you took it from the house, the authorities will know of its origins.”
“She could have taken it from the house at the auction.”
“I never went to the house.” She would never set foot in that house again. Ever.
“Yes, you came there to meet me. You wanted to thank me properly for rescuing you on the road that day.”
“I don’t think so,” Sophie said adamantly. But perhaps that angle would work for him. She was a courtesan. All he had to say was that she was soliciting a new protector and it would put her in the house. Even with all of the witnesses at the inn, his word would mean more than all of theirs put together. But then again, his credibility was cracked. As was his mind evidently.
“What have I got to lose?” Charles said with a shrug and a smile.
Sophie took that moment, when his grip relaxed in her hair and his boot still pressed into Blake’s chest, to brace her legs and push with all her might.
Charles overbalanced and the gun dropped dangerously close to Blake’s body, but then he was falling. He couldn’t regain his balance, but neither did he let go of her. In a tangle of arms and legs, Sophie fell over Blake’s feet and into Charles’s chest. The impact knocked his hand loose of her head until he could wrap his arm around her and hold the reclaimed gun to her cheek. “That was not smart,” he hissed, spittle flying everywhere.
Blake was on his feet in a second, but stopped at the sight of the pistol pressed to her head.
“Let her go, Charles. This has nothing to do with Sophie. It’s between you and me.”
“Oh, no. There are more players in this game than the three of us. St. Ives has the ear of the King. If I’m to lose my position, then he must lose too.”
“That is why you wouldn’t leave me alone? You were trying to steal me from him?”
“If you were a typical slut, I would have offered you more money than him, but it’s clear you are different. I haven’t yet worked out what motivates you.”
Certainly not money, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. “If you kill us both, Daemon will hunt you down. He won’t rest until he finds you.”
Charles began to laugh again. “I’m counting on it.”
It didn’t make sense. Was he after all three of them for getting in the way of his title or was there more behind his hatred for Daemon? Perhaps he was shooting the messenger, literally. Sophie gulped. The cool hard metal of the gun made her cheek hurt and the rumble of Charles’s laugh at her back made her want to retch. She suddenly felt as though she would turn into an aristocratic lady after all and faint.
The notion held appeal. Since her back was to Charles and he couldn’t see her face, she closed her eyes for a few seconds and then opened them wide. Blake shook his head. She held out her left hand and counted one, two, three and then with a forced groan, she dropped like a sack.
Charles was caught off guard and wasn’t strong enough to hold her up with one hand. For a second his arm tightened painfully about her throat as he cursed but then he was forced to drop her. Sophie hit the ground and rolled away from the maniac. A flash of dark boots filled her vision as Blake jumped over her and slammed his body into Charles’s. The gun flew from his hand to land in the dirt not far from where Sophie tried to catch her breath for a second time. Without hesitation she launched herself at the gun, picked it up in two hands and, aiming it into the sky, pulled the trigger.
* * *
The shot was deafening but it did make Charles pause, obviously waiting for pain. Blake had been in enough hand-to-hand fights to know never to hesitate.
He squeezed his arms around his distant cousin to roll him and started punching. He saw nothing but red that this bastard had held a gun to a woman. To his woman. When pain exploded