Heart's Desire

Chapter Four

"You sir are an ass," Julian's wife hissed between clenched teeth. Those fiery green-gold eyes finally met his stunned expression. Surely, he couldn't have been so wrong in what he thought he'd seen.

With jerky motions, Charity clutched her skirt in one hand and bent down to pick the toys up off the ground with the other. A loud crack sounded from the tree line, and she raised her eyes thinking it came from a rogue storm cloud.

"Get down!" Lord Wrotham yelled and bore Charity to the lawn. As air flew from her lungs, she noted his hard, lean body atop hers. It formed a protective shell about her. Bracing himself with his elbows, he lifted his upper torso off her. Stunned, she watched as he turned his head to look at some unknown point behind them.

Struggling to find the breath Lord Wrotham had knocked from her, Charity noticed an intense sting along her right cheekbone. Dazed, she brought her fingertips to the injury. When they came back covered in blood, she frowned in incomprehension.

"Bloody bastard!" Julian shouted over his shoulder. He was no stranger to gunfire, and even though he hadn't been to war in a few years, his reflexes were still quick. Perhaps some poacher had fired a stray shot? That thought was quickly discarded as unlikely. No poacher would have risked coming so close to the house. Nor would he shoot in its direction.

Looking down, Julian met his wife's green-gold eyes. They were wide with shock as she stared at her hand. He swatted it away to get a better look at her cheek.

"It's just a graze." Julian levered himself up, then knelt beside Lady Wrotham. From his breast pocket, he produced a handkerchief. The snowy-white cloth turned red as he pressed it firmly to her wound.

"From lightning?"

Julian let out a humorless huff of laughter. "No madam, from a bullet fired from a gun."

"I've been shot?" Quick, shallow breaths escaped Lady Wrotham's lips as her gaze darted left, then right. The memory of finding her in his bed all those years ago rose in his mind.

Banishing it, Julian answered. "Yes, but it's just a graze. Nothing serious," he added. Yes, it was deep, but he doubted there was any damage to the bone beneath.

"Here, hold this." Julian placed his wife's hand on the cloth and pressed it down firmly. "I'll be back in a moment."

Feeling numb, Charity nodded. Taking a deep breath, she held it before letting it out slowly. Too many emotions were trying to bombard her at once. Fear, disbelief, panic, and even anger clambered for the top spot.

"Wait!" Charity called when Lord Wrotham rose to his feet. As he made to leave, fear came to the fore, settling the rest of her rioting reactions. "Where are you going?"

"To find those responsible." After barking a command to, "Stay down," Lord Wrotham was gone. Wisely, Charity followed his order, too shocked to do anything else.

Julian crouched low, making his way toward the tree line. The urge to find the shooter before the bastard could reload pushed him onward. He hoped Lady Wrotham did as he said. Just because the would-be assassin missed once, didn't mean they weren't even now preparing to try again. Another stray bullet could find his wife instead of him.

A soft curse escaped Julian. It was difficult to ascertain from whence the real danger came. There was no doubt in his mind that the shot was meant for him. He'd made some enemies while in the King's service. At the top of that list, he'd place Captain Reynolds, a man he'd seen dishonored and stripped of rank. It was justified, for his former commander treated civilians, especially women and children, poorly. One incident had been especially unpleasant, and Julian brought it to their superior's attention.