he collapsed on the floor.
For several seconds, with his chest heaving while he nursed his bruised knuckles, Godfrey stood over Masterton, but the man was well and truly unconscious.
Godfrey glanced at Jeffers, who was bent over with his hands on his knees, hauling in air even harder than Godfrey was. He caught Jeffers’s eye and gave him a nod.
Wearily, Jeffers nodded back. Then he bent and, rather gingerly, picked up the gun Masterton had dropped and held it out to Godfrey. Jeffers met Godfrey’s eyes. “Not my line of work.”
That had become apparent, yet Godfrey had to wonder why Masterton had been so convinced matters were otherwise. But solving the riddle of Jeffers could wait. Godfrey took the gun, checked the chambers were empty, then slid it into his pocket. “Thank you for your help.”
Jeffers straightened and looked at Masterton with disgust etched in his face. “Frankly, it was entirely my pleasure.”
Yes, there was definitely a tale there.
Jeffers glanced around, then walked over to fetch the length of cloth Masterton had used to tie up Godfrey. Twisting the cloth between his hands, Jeffers nodded at Harry. “Let’s tie him up before he wakes.”
Harry, who had managed to catch his breath while listening to the exchanges, nodded and bent to help Jeffers manhandle Masterton onto his front so they could lash his hands behind his back.
“I found this.” Maggie came forward brandishing a length of rope. “Perhaps we should hobble him as well.”
Jeffers looked up, found a smile, and reached for the rope. “Good idea.”
Everyone was safe. All was under control. On that realization, Godfrey’s mind, his entire awareness, shifted. Leaving the others to deal with Masterton, he clambered over the scattered boxes to where Ellie waited, pale but alive, sitting propped against the wall.
She met his worried gaze with a faint and rueful smile. “I missed all the excitement.”
“Excitement?” Godfrey dropped down to sit beside her, then avoiding her wound, which she was clutching, he put his arms around her and slowly, feelingly, hugged her. He buried his face in her hair and let out the shaky breath that felt as if it had been lodged in his chest from the moment she’d been shot. When she leaned into him, he tightened his hold. “I thought I’d lost you, you crazy woman.”
He raised his head and pressed a long, hard kiss to her temple. He felt as if he was holding himself together—bottling up a maelstrom of turbulent, violent, powerful feelings—by the skin of his teeth. He’d never known he could feel so viscerally, so profoundly—not about anything.
She drew in a slow, deep breath, awkwardly raised the hand of her injured arm, and patted his encircling arm. “You’re not going to lose me so easily, for the simple reason that I’m not about to let you go.”
He softly snorted. “I gathered that—you were supposed to have gone the other way.”
“And then the devil would have shot you, and that wouldn’t have suited me at all.”
After a moment of simply soaking in her warmth, the reality of her presence, he sat up and gently drew his arms from her. “Let me see.”
She eased away the hand she’d clamped over the wound and allowed him to check it. “See?” She peered at it, too. “It’s not that bad.”
He frowned at the raw gash marring her delicate flesh. “It might be a graze, but it’s a deep one. You’re going to have a scar.” He wasn’t sure what offended him more—that she’d been hurt or that she would carry a permanent reminder of Masterton.
She ducked her head, captured his gaze, and gently smiled. “I really don’t care. You’re alive. I’m alive.” She glanced to where her siblings and Jeffers were discussing what to do with Masterton, who was apparently still unconscious. “And thanks to you, Harry and Maggie are also alive, and Jeffers as well, and that’s really all that matters.”
He couldn’t disagree. He wondered whether he could trust his legs to hold them both up and realized the shock of her being shot and the ensuing action had apparently galvanized his limbs and brain into cooperating again.
“How’s your head?” She looked at him anxiously.
He arched his brows. “Surprisingly better. Still throbbing a bit where he hit me.” He gently probed beneath his hair. “A goose egg that’s sensitive, but nowhere near as bad as before.”
He pushed off the floor and got to his feet, confirmed his balance wasn’t about to desert him, then reached down and helped her up. He put an