“Let her go or I’ll shoot you.”“I’ve never met a woman who’d have the guts to shoot a man,” he sneered. All the women he knew were too kind. Too gentle.“I have the guts,” the girl said. “Better yet, I want to shoot you.”That shook him. The words, and the tone, a kind of flat, plain aversion the like of which he’d never met in all of his privileged life. What had he ever done to deserve this girl’s contempt? And why did he even care? “Which part of me will you shoot?” he mocked. “All that’s showing is my head—and you can’t be that good with a gun.”“I am,” the girl said. “On the count of three, I’ll shoot. One . . .”“You’d take the chance of hurting Miss Victorine?” he asked.“I won’t hurt her. Two . . .”“Amy, please, let him go!” Miss Victorine begged. “He was such a sweet boy.”“Three.” Amy’s eyes narrowed. Her finger began to squeeze the trigger.And he released Miss Victorine, spinning her away from him and into a cabinet.She landed with a thud and fell. The pistol roared.He dived to the floor.A shot whistled past the place where his head had been.“Damn, that was close. Good thing you surrendered, my lord!”“Don’t swear, dear, it’s not ladylike.”

“I won’t walk through the wedding arch with you,” she said.“The arch is traditionally used by grooms with reluctant brides, for the arch is tall enough for a man with his woman on his shoulder.”As they reached the door, he bent and put his shoulder in her stomach. As if she were a sack of potatoes, he swung her up and over. Amy shrieked and gave his back a good hard thump.He dropped her down until her rear sat uppermost on his shoulder and her head dangled almost to his trousers, and kept walking. “Miss Victorine!” she shouted.“I’ll come as fast as I can, dears!” Miss Victorine called from the doorway. “Shame on you for appealing to an old lady for rescue.”

“I have never seen an unclad male form in my life, and I haven’t suffered for the lack.”“By an extraordinary coincidence, I haven’t seen an unclad male form in my life, either. I’d say it’s time to remedy the situation.” Tugging his shirt open, Amy peered down at his chest.“We can’t look at him when he’s unconscious! It’s . . . it’s immoral.” Miss Victorine fanned herself with her handkerchief.Coal watched the white cotton as if contemplating if it would shred.“Dear Miss Victorine, we abducted him from his own estate. I hardly think sneaking a peek at his chest compares.” Letting his shirt drop back, Amy added, “Besides, we looked at his face.”“That’s different.” Miss Victorine leaned closer. “What color is it?”“What color is what?” Amy teased.“You know. The hair on his body.”Amy flashed her a grin. “Red.”“Appropriate,” Miss Victorine said crisply.“Why do you say that?”“You’re gazing upon the gateway to hell.”“I don’t think I looked that far,” Amy said reflectively.”

“You’re not leaving. I told you that.” She worked to keep the calm in her tone to counter his fury. “I’m going to shoot.” “It’s time to put your gun down, Noah.” “His blood will be on you.” Rook made eye contact with her and mouthed, Shoot. Him. She had no shot and said so with the smallest head shake.”

“She nodded, taking his pistol and showing him the button to release the empty clip.“Where did you learn how to shoot?” he asked.“I teach high school.”

“What the hell?!" Vee shrieked. "Why did you shoot him Rixon?" "Citizen's arrest," he said. "Well, that, and Patch told me too.""You can't shoot people just because Patch says to!" Vee said, her eyes wild.”