“It isn’t mad at all. Under the circumstances, it may be your only option.”
“And just whom do you propose I marry? What gentleman would be willing to have me now that…” Furiously she quelled tears that suddenly threatened. “Now that I am damaged goods.”
His expression remained enigmatic. “I imagine some ac
ceptable candidates could be found for a woman of your…advantages. Perhaps no one with the title and fortune your duke possessed, but-”
“No, a title is doubtless beyond my reach now,” she said bitterly.
Hearing the humiliating tremble in her voice, Raven shook herself, refusing to cry. Instead she rose to her feet, pointing her pistol directly at her nemesis. “I should like to go home now, sir.”
Kell Lasseter’s eyes suddenly hardened, probing her with an even stare. “I am not a man who likes to be threatened, Miss Kendrick.”
“I frankly don’t give a fig for what you like. You will do as I say and allow me to leave.”
He gave a devilish laugh, blithely ignoring her wrath. “Or what? You will shoot me?”
“Yes, exactly. You will have Emma bring me a gown and then you will provide me with a closed carriage to deliver me home.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I am not bluffing, Mr. Lasseter. And I am reckoned a good shot.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his very stance challenging. “You intend to shoot me in cold blood? Somehow I doubt it.”
His supreme arrogance spurred her temper, already seething beyond caution. She couldn’t remember ever being this angry.
“Go ahead then,” he ordered, his own tone mocking. “Do your worst.”
Seeing that smirk on his sensual mouth was the culmination of all the past hours of fear and frustration and despair; Raven’s wrath boiled over.
Consigning him to perdition, she took careful aim and squeezed the trigger.
Chapter Five
The explosion was deafening. With a startled grunt of pain, Lasseter doubled over to clench his left thigh. Almost at once a crimson streak spread beneath his fingers to stain his buff-colored breeches.
Aghast, Raven pressed a hand over her mouth, scarcely believing that she had actually shot him. Her gaze flew to his, only to find him skewering her with a menacing stare. With his beautiful, scarred face and coal black eyes, he looked supremely dangerous.
When he moved toward her, she took a defensive step backward. His scar stood out in a livid white line, and for a moment, all she could see was that and the promise of vengeance in his eyes. Yet instead of coming after her, he stumbled over to the bed, where he sat back against the headboard, grimacing in pain.
Blood was already soaking into the tangled sheets, Raven saw with horror as he grabbed a handful of linen to press against the wound.
“Are you badly hurt?” she murmured weakly.
Lasseter shot her a searing look. She had to school herself not to flinch from the smoldering intensity of his eyes.
Wanting to be of help, Raven started toward him, but his eyes flashed a warning and narrowed on the pistol in her hand. “For God’s sake, put that damned thing down before you do any more damage.”
Just then the door flew open and Emma Walsh stood there, a look of alarm on her beautiful features. “What happened?” she demanded, her gaze flying between Raven and the wounded man on the bed. “I heard a gunshot.”
“Miss Kendrick has come to no harm,” Lasseter bit out, “if that’s what concerns you. Although she has mortally wounded me.”
“Merciful heavens,” Emma breathed, taking a step toward the bed.
Abruptly he held up a hand to forestall her. “I’ll be all right. Just fetch some bandages.”
When the hostess had hurried away, Raven spoke in a contrite tone. “Did you mean it? Are you really all right?”