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fallen outrider.

She followed. The poor man was badly wounded in the chest, but not dead. "Do you have bandages in the coach?" she asked.

"I don't think so. An oversight." He was letting the grimacing man clutch his hand, and now he stroked the sweaty, livid brow. "I'll take care of everything, Miller. Don't worry. You did well. Everyone is safe and the villains have gone. Quite likely they are all dead..."

Diana went to her knees on the man's other side, praying, but it would need a miracle. Miller must be in terrible pain, and blood was pooling under him. His eyes were glazing, but he seemed to take comfort from his master's calm voice. Then, with a strangled, rattling cry, he went limp.

Diana covered her mouth with her hand. She'd never thought he'd live with a chest wound like that, but for a moment, under Bey's calm, she'd hoped.

He rested his hand on the man's face for a moment, almost like a caress, but then he rose and seemingly unmoved, wiped blood from his hands with his handkerchief.

She rose too, not knowing what to do or say.

In the end she decided to be practical, and gathered the outrider's two fallen pistols. He'd fired one, but the other by a miracle, hadn't gone off when dropped. "I do hope they're all dead," she said bitterly.

"So do I. And painfully." He took the spent pistol and the man's powder and shot and set about reloading all three guns.

Diana stood there, absorbing the fact that the attack had taken only seconds, and that the whole incident, including the outrider's death, had lasted only a minute or two. The plan had surely been expected to take even less time.

One shot for the outrider, one for the marquess, and then speed off. Miller's quick action had changed things, or perhaps it had been her insistence on standing close that had caused a momentary hesitation. She hoped so.

But she was beginning to shake.

His arm came around her and pressed her against his chest.

"I'm not going to faint," she insisted.

"Of course not."

"Don't humor me!"

"Of course not."

"I fainted after I shot Edward Overton. I hated that."

"I'm sure you did."

"He screamed, too."

"People generally do. The distressing thought about someone trying to shoot me is that I might end up writhing and screaming."

She looked up. "Don't joke about it!"

"I was not particularly joking." His eyes were gentle however, and she suddenly realized what had happened. Things had changed again.

They were Bey and Diana now. Comrades in arms.

Much more dangerous.

But wildly wonderful.

He stepped away, breaking the connection. "Do you wish me to reload your pistols?"

"Of course not."

Without protest, he continued to do the larger ones, and she took the balls, wadding, and powder flask from her pistol case. When she tried to pour the right amount of powder down the barrel, however, her hands started to shake. Strive as she might, she could not make them behave.

"Damn it all to Hades," she muttered and he turned.

He took pistols and powder from her. "Practice being the conventional lady, just for a little while. Sit in the carriage and swoon. I will endeavor to survive unguarded. In fact..."

He did something in the carriage. When he helped Diana up the steps, she found he'd created a bed, even producing a soft blanket from somewhere. A shelf stretched from the seats to the far wall, padded with the opposite seat cushions and back. She climbed onto it and stretched out. He placed the blanket over her, then leaned forward to kiss her temple.

"Peace be with you."

Diana wanted to ask him to lie with her.

She wanted something more. Wanted it more intensely than ever.

"I know," he said, brushing a finger over her lips. "It happens after violence."

But then he left, and she heard him speaking to the two remaining servants. She absorbed the fact that she really would have tumbled with him here with the servants nearby, and thought modesty, dignity, and reputation of no concern at all.

She tried to keep her ears alert for more trouble, but she feared she'd done as much as she could in one day. Carr had told her she needed to learn how to use her skills under stress, and he was right. If another attack came, she might not be able to cope, and that was intolerable.

It was full dark by the time they arrived at the White Goose Inn in Bay Green. The first outrider had returned with two ostlers and four horses to pull the coach the