Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,111

couldn’t see well enough to be a threat. But Nash didn’t need his eyes. He squeezed tightly and pushed the other man against the back of the tent. “I asked you a question.”

“We were just having a bit of fun,” the other man said.

Nash’s breath whooshed out of him for a moment. Pru and this man? She’d been on her knees. Nash shook his head. “I should kill you for touching her.” He began to squeeze.

“Nash.”

He turned his head slightly as Pru’s voice penetrated the red haze beginning to descend.

“Let him go. I’m fine.”

“I’ll let him go after I kill him.”

“No.” She was beside him, her hand on his arm. At her touch, much of his rage leaked away. The red haze began to dissipate, and a calm blue replaced it. “If you hurt him, he’ll use it against you. He’d like nothing better than to see you sent away. Let him go.”

Nash opened his hand and released the man, who crumpled, gasping for breath.

“You’re not hurt?” Nash asked, pulling her close. The feel of her in his arms was exactly what he needed. The world felt right again.

“No.”

“Who?” he asked, gesturing to the man.

“George Northgate. He saw us in the field that day and thought...well...”

She didn’t need to finish. Nash knew exactly what the man had thought. And he wanted to kill him all over again. Pru gripped his arm tightly, though, and steered him away. “Let’s go. We can leave him here in the dirt.”

“Walk away,” Northgate called as they turned their backs on him. “I’ll tell everyone you threatened to kill me. You’ll be on your way to the mad house before nightfall.”

“Come on,” Pru urged. Nash went with her. As much as he would have liked to kill the man, that was a sure way to be sent to the asylum. But they had gone no more than three feet before a man yelled, “No! Mr. Pope, please! Don’t shoot!”

Nash paused, confused.

And then a shot rang out.

THEY WERE JUST EMERGING from behind the tent when the shot startled Pru enough that she jumped. She was already shaking with rage and shock at what Northgate had tried to do to her, and it took little to upset her. But it was not only Pru who was surprised. The shot startled the rest of the assemblage as well, judging by the silence that descended and the immediate halt to all movement. Pru glanced at Nash. He seemed confused, but she knew exactly what had happened. And she knew in that moment she had failed Nash. George Northgate would have the last word, just as she’d feared.

“Nash.” Pru gripped his arm. “Stay calm.” The words were as much for her as for him. Her legs felt like jelly and her head still screamed in pain. She imagined her hair looked a fright, but fortunately her hair always looked a fright and people probably wouldn’t find its current state remarkable.

“What happened?” Nash asked

“What the devil was that?” The earl emerged from the crowd of people near the house and started for them, the vicar on his heels. “Was that a pistol shot?” he yelled.

“I’ll stay by your side,” Pru told Nash. “As long as I can. No matter what happens, Mr. Payne and I will find a way to come for you. Remember I love you.”

“Why are you telling me good-bye?” he asked.

He would understand soon enough, she thought as his father reached them, still cursing and shouting. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

A crowd had formed, and Pru searched it for help. There was Mrs. Northgate, looking concerned and sympathetic. Where was Mr. Payne? She needed him. Nash needed him.

“Mr. Northgate,” Pru began.

But then George Northgate stumbled out from behind the tent. “He shot at me,” Northgate said. “He threatened to kill me.”

Pru could have cheerfully murdered George Northgate. She wanted to scream that he was a liar, but for once, she checked her impulses.

The earl looked at Northgate and then at Nash and back at Northgate. “Who shot at you, sir?”

“Mr. Pope,” Northgate said. “I was speaking with Miss Howard, and he mistook my intentions. He pulled out his pistol and fired at me.”

The earl’s face hardened as he looked at his son. “Is this true, Nash?”

“No.” Nash didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t elaborate either.

“Do you want to explain?” the earl asked.

Nash shrugged. “He’s lying. If I’d shot at him, I would have hit him.”

The crowd gasped, and Pru closed her eyes. That defense, if it could