Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (75 page)

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near enough to see her take a hedge, trying to cut cross country.

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Brandon would have taken time to appreciate the fine bit of horsemanship on display.

Witherspoon's horse stumbled briefly and a movement at his side caused Brandon to glance over. Fear gripped him. Witherspoon had drawn his pistol. Recognising that his flashy thoroughbred was tiring and wouldn't be able to catch the sturdy gelding, Witherspoon was opting for a bullet.

'My horse can't catch her, Stockport, but my bullet will. You go on and bring her down when she tires,' he said, speaking of her as if he were bringing down a buck from the hunt.

'You can't

her,' Brandon yelled over the sound of racing hooves, fumbling for the persuasive for which he was

reputed to possess. 'There'll be no satisfaction of a trial, no chance to see her punished for her crimes. This should be decided by a court of law.'

'I only mean to wound,' Witherspoon said with cool calculation. He slowed his horse and took steady aim.

Pistols were unpredictable things, Brandon told himself. It was highly unlikely Witherspoon would hit his target at this distance. Short of throwing himself at Witherspoon and overtly fouling the shot, he was helpless to intervene.

Witherspoon's finger squeezed the trigger and time slowed.

Brandon edged his stallion into the thoroughbred, throwing it off balance. The bullet fired. Brandon's distraction wasn't enough. He watched in horror as Nora slumped forward into the horse's mane.

'A hit! In spite of your incompetent horsemanship, Stockport,' Witherspoon crowed. 'That should slow her down. My horse is spent. You ride ahead; at least that edgy beast of yours has some stamina.'

Brandon wasted no time. He let Nora make one last effort, turning the gelding towards a forested area where speed would matter less and trickery more. He knew she intended to

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dismount and hide. He let her, relieved to see that she was conscious and not suffering unduly.

He entered the woods behind her and slid off the stallion's back. 'Nora, it's me, Brandon. Show yourself.' He looked around desperately. He had only a little time. A small cry of pain caught his attention and he followed it to Nora, crouched in the notch of a dead tree, nearly invisible in the dense under-growth.

'I will shoot without hesitation.'

Brandon's gaze dropped to the pistol in her good hand. 'I am not the enemy, Nora.' He held his hands out at his side. If he ever needed the right words, it was now. 'I know you ran because of what you overheard at the ball. You misunderstood.'

'I heard about your plan, how seducing me was your way of keeping the mill safe,' Nora ground out, her anger apparent in every word.

'Nora, there isn't time to explain. You are wrong. How else can you explain why I am out here

my neck for you, again?

Don't be a fool, Nora, you

what we had cannot be faked.'

Brandon sensed her wavering. The pistol lowered. Had his words been successful or had her arm simply tired of the act?

'Are you hurt badly?' He took a confident step forward, not daring to betray the anxiety inside. The Cat appreciated strength.

If she sensed weakness, it would be like blood to a shark.

'It just grazed me. But it's bleeding and it hurts at present,'

Nora admitted.

'Unbutton your shirt.' Brandon commanded. It was too dark to see much of the wound, but he pressed around the area to make sure the bullet had not entered. 'You're right, there is no entrance or exit wound. You're lucky. But it's bleeding too much for a simple graze.' Brandon ripped a strip from his own shirt and fashioned a tight bandage. 'There, that should stop the bleeding and keep you from dripping until we get you home. I don't want those dogs to smell blood.'

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'I am not going back with you. Everything is over. Finished,'

Nora said sternly.

Brandon ignored her.

stall them here. You go back to

Stockport Hall and have Harper tend to you. We'll sort everything out in the morning.'

Nora backed away. 'No. Brandon, be reasonable. There is too much doubt between us.'

'There is too much passion between us for us to let it go.

Do you think what we have happens every day?' Brandon was Already blood seeped through the bandage. He had to get her back to the hall.

'I know it doesn't. But The Cat cannot do this. I have devoted my life to helping others, to saving people from lives of industrial slavery.'

'Your husband is dead. I meant to tell you at the ball. You are free to start a new life.' Brandon returned her gaze with a hard stare of his own, closing the distance she'd created between them. 'You cannot start a new life if you're dead.

'Nora.' Brandon reached for her, taking her face between his hands and

her lips with all the passion of a lover.

She fell in his arms, limp against him. 'Oh, so now you're swooning, at last,' he joked, not quite grasping the situation.

'That's not funny,' she said faintly, all her strength ebbing.

'Help me, Brandon. Don't let me die. Witherspoon will win, he needs me dead before.. She didn't finish the sentence.

'Nora!' he called out in the shock of holding her slumped form, but she was gone, completely unconscious in his embrace.

He swung her up in his arms and looked about frantically for a place to hide her, but it was futile. The wound and her exertions over the past twenty-four hours proved to be too much.

He heard horses approach and felt his heart sink. Time had out. Nora lay limp in his arms and he could not protect her.

A fine champion he had turned out to be for her.