“You will not. It is not done and well you know it,” she hissed.
But he was done. “I am supposed to be your husband. Which room?”
She said nothing.
“Up or I will make a scene and tell them you are my naughty wife that I have just found.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Would you like to test me?”
“Your reputation would be tarnished.”
“Tarnished? Maybe, for a little time to retell the tale, but yours would be destroyed. I wouldn’t advise it, but as you wish.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Lilliana,” he said as he began to stand, with his voice slightly raised.
She jumped up. “Fine,” she said tearfully. She sniffled and wiped her tears, but they wouldn’t stop. She stomped her footdelicately then petulantly. “You are being so mean to me when I am not at my best.”
“Sweetheart, you are exhausted. Come with me and we will retire to the room.”
Her tears continued as she stood and let him lead her out of the room, through the common area, and up the stairs.
“Good girl. I will have something a little stronger sent to us. And some hot water for cleaning up with.”
She said nothing. He followed behind her with a triumphant smile. He knew she had gone through a terrible ordeal, but he needed to establish the rules and expectations early because this little lost spitfire was going to be his.
“Now tell me about what happened today.”
Sighing she sat in the chair and carefully told the main highlights only.
"That’s only part of it,” he whispered, voice taut with unspoken fear. His hand wove through her tangled hair, then cupped her face, thumb brushing away a clammy curl. His hand smoothed her hair and cupped the side of her face. “Tell me everything, sweetheart.”
Her lips trembled. “When the robbers surprised us, I was frozen in place, reliving Mother’s death, but then I remembered my guns.”
“Guns?”
Her eyes burned with the painful memory. “After they killed Mother, and I was sent to Heatherfield, my grandparents insisted I learn to shoot. They gave me two derringers. One of which you confiscated earlier,” she accused.
She dared look up at him.
“And returned,” he said thoughtfully.
He paced the cramped cabin, fists clenched, and his muscle strung tight. His hair was mussed, his coat wrinkled—he looked as battered as she felt. And in that moment, she knew how farhe’d come to rescue her. A slow smile curved his lips, brittle and wary. “Ah yes, when you pointed your pistol at that… persistent gentleman. I’ve never approved of women brandishing firearms. Especially in public.” He gave her a hard stare. “Still, I returned it—foolishly, it seems. You carried both on this trip?”
Her cheeks burned. “Yes. I can barely manage a carbine—too unwieldy, so I taught myself to conceal one under my skirt.” She touched her thigh as if to prove the point, flushing scarlet. “The other was stashed in my bag. I have to have protection, because of Mother.”
His jaw clenched. Tears trembled on her lashes; her chest heaved. He brushed a tear away with surprising gentleness. “My god, I never knew the full story nor the full extent that happening has affected you.”
“Why would you?” she whispered.
“I am to pay attention to all things about you. Darling girl, what if someone had overpowered you and taken them from you?”
“No one knew I had them until it counted. I was careful.” Her indignation shone through.
“My darling, I had no idea.”
