A Marquess for Christmas Read Free Page A

something on the ground.
Violet screamed as he jammed a rock against the gentleman’s head. A shot rang
out and she scurried toward them, her feet making slow progress as she ran
through the wet, heavy snow.
    There
was blood everywhere. It soaked their shirts and dripped onto the ground until
the white turned to pink. It wasn’t until her hero turned and slumped with a
loud moan that she realized it was the thief who’d been shot. There was a
gaping red and black hole where his chest should have been.
    Though
she could feel the bile rising to her throat, Violet fought it off. She turned
her head and covered her mouth. Bending over for a moment and bracing her hands
on her legs, she caught her breath and steeled herself. She’d seen worse when she’d
been in the war with her husband. God
rest his soul.
    “Sir,”
she called as she went over to her savior. “Sir, are you able to move?”
    A
long groan was his response.
    “I
must get you to my house. Can you lift up?”
    “Bloody
hell.”
    Violet
ignored that. He groaned and was able to move, but he looked almost as bad as
the dead man on the ground. Blood stained his chest and there was a big gash on
his head. It was hard to tell how badly he was injured because she couldn’t be
sure how much blood was his and how much blood was from his attacker.
    Gingerly,
she placed her arm under his and tried to brace him and lift him up. He weighed
as much as a horse, so she stumbled as he started to fall back. She managed to
catch him before he hit the ground.
    “I’m
going to need your help if we’re going to get you into the carriage.”
    “Just lurve mer.” The words were barely intelligible.
    He
must be delusional if he thought she would abandon him on the side of the road
after he’d saved her life. “No. I will not leave you here.” She smacked him
lightly on the side of the face. “Soldier, you are not dying on this field
today. Get up and do your duty, by God.” It was something she’d said before and
the old habit came back to her now.
    It
seemed to work though, for she could feel him bracing his weight on her as he
struggled to stand. Together, they stumbled their way to the curricle. Her
driver had finally made it up the road. His eyes widened when he saw the bloody
and beaten gentleman in her arms.
    “My
lady!”
    “ Hinkley , help me!”
    The
driver rushed forward to help her, taking brunt of the gentleman’s weight as
they carried him to the carriage.
    “What
the hell happened?”
    Violet
gave him a pointed look, but she chose not to reprimand him for his foul
language. It had been one hell of an
afternoon.
    “Begging
forgiveness, ma’am.”
    Together
they hoisted the gentleman into the seat and made sure he was still conscious.
    “As
soon as we make it home, you are to go and fetch Dr. Littleton at once.”
    “Yes,
my lady.”
    Violet
looked at the gentleman, whose name she still did not know, and prayed to God
that he would survive this night. Fearing he might slip away at any moment, she
gripped his hand tightly.
    He
looked too pained to speak, so she refrained from saying anything more than
necessary. But her hand held fast to his and his pulse throbbed, assuring her
that for now, at least, he was alive.
    * * * *
    Kit
had been on the long road toward Yorkshire when he’d come upon thieves
threatening a lady. He’d managed to take down one man, but the other had stolen
the carriage before he could reload his pistol.
      In all his life, he had never seen a woman
such as this one. She fought off thieves armed with only a basket, and she’d
pushed a man out of a moving carriage. Her dress, speech, and the well-kept
horses identified her as a lady, but she was totally unlike the meek and demure
young misses who followed him around town. Girls like that eventually ran from
him because he was no gentleman.
    He
boxed, he gambled, he kept the company of courtesans. He was worse than a rake.
Yet he could not stand the thought of that wretch robbing