To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)
"He says he will ask for her hand."
"Oh, Collin! That's—"
The world slipped, shifted under her, spinning till it hit her face. The whole of the earth seemed to have landed on her chest and she could not draw a breath past the weight.
"Alex!" Hooves danced near her head. She saw Collin's face above her as he slid from the saddle, saw him look to the horse, saw a stream of blood flowing from the gelding's chest. Then a pistol clutched in a fist fell from the sky and her husband dropped away, disappearing from her vision.
Air flooded suddenly into her stunned lungs. "Collin," she coughed when she had enough air to exhale. She could not roll her eyes far enough to see him, so she forced her cringing body to push to the side. Shadows swam before her like fish darting through water.
"Greetings, Lady Westmore. What a pleasure to see you again."
The shadows melted together to form a man.
"I do not appreciate being ignored, my dear. Lied to again. But perhaps this is for the good. Your husband is better leverage than a threat, after all. And if you refuse to turn over the money, I will simply rid myself of the underlying problem."
"Damien?"
"Oh, my name still sounds so lovely on your lips."
She searched the road at his feet till she found her husband, still and bloody. "What have you done?"
"He is only unconscious."
"But. . . Why?"
"I warned you to leave the money. Imagine my disappointment when I found you had left without paying me."
"I didn't. . . I meant to return with it."
"Oh, what a pretty liar you are. No, you meant to leave your brutish husband; however, I did not worry. I knew he'd retrieve you, animal that he is."
"I have the money, the jewels. I'll turn them over."
"Yes, you will. Or I'll slit his ugly throat."
"No! You can't—"
"Come, let's get off this road, shall we? I've a campsite just off this trail. Too bad he's too heavy to lift."
He turned away, busied himself with rope and the horses. Alex tried to heave herself up and managed to raise her chest from the ground.
"What a pity. Your face will swell. We shall have to say he beat you. That is in keeping with his nature, is it not?"
"No," she mumbled and folded her legs beneath her. If she could stand, perhaps—
St. Claire bent over her, pulled her wrists up and tied them together. Even the barest try at resistance set her arms shaking.
"You're not going to vomit on me, are you? Good." He patted her head. Alex blinked at the swarm of dots before her eyes. "I will help you to mount. If you try to escape, you'll come along behind your husband."
She realized, in a sudden rush of horror, what he'd been doing with the rope. Collin lay on the road, hands limp and tied above his head. The rope bound him to Thor's saddle. He was to be dragged.
"No!" Her eyes rolled again, taking in every jagged edge of every rock that jut from the roadside. They found the small hint of a trail and the litter of branches and tree roots across it. "No, you'll kill him."
"Oh, it's not far. And I can't possibly lift him. A moment, please." He held up an elegant hand to stop her words before reaching for the trailing rein of the injured horse. She was thankful for the moment to think, thankful till he led the horse a few feet into the brush and slit its throat.
A sob and a rush of bile choked her.
"What?" St. Claire scoffed when he returned. "Was I to leave it limping about for anyone to find?"