“You love art, do you not, Mr. Harris?”
“Yes, but Faith and I—”
“You and Faith remind me of another couple that never got their chance to try for something lasting and real.” Belle’s stare turned wistful.
Logan nearly asked her who she was referring to when Faith’s footsteps sounded behind him.
“What the devil do you… I mean, Mr. Harris,” Faith said upon seeing her aunt. Coming fully into the room, he turned to see her. She wore a simple, blue-floral-pattern gown and a stare they could freeze fire. “Hello.”
“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Belle said, moving toward the door.
“Ah, Aunt Belle, you really needn’t leave,” Faith said, turning to follow her.
“Yes, she does,” Logan said firmly.
Faith whipped her head around to face Logan as her aunt closed the door behind her.
“What do you—”
She stopped abruptly; her eyes focused on the ground. He waited for her to finish her sentence, but she didn’t. Instead, she bent forward slightly, completely distracted. Confused, Logan looked down as well and saw nothing. Except… Was that a puddle beneath his foot?
She came over to him at once. She touched his leg forcefully and painfully, startling him. “What happened to your leg?”
“Damn it.” He cursed under his breath as she stood up. “It must have been that second shot.”
“Shot?” she repeated, her tone anxious. “What shot?”
“It seems someone is trying to kill me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Instantly, Faith turnedinto a nurse. After calling for a maid and sending for Grace, she practically pushed Logan onto the settee in her aunt’s study she crouched down and began rolling up his pant leg, ignoring his resistance.
“There’s no need to do that.”
“Hush,” she said, shooing his hands away just as the maid returned with a bowl of hot water and torn linens. “Don’t move.”
“Well, don’t press on it like that.”
The sight of blood dripping from his calf sent a chill through her. Who would want to shoot at him? Everyone within a hundred miles adored Logan Harris. In fact, that had been one of the most annoying things about him when she’d first arrived in the Highlands last year. Everyone seemed to fawn over him wherever he went. Whether it was because he was handsome or a war hero, she did not know.
“A fine thing to have happened to you,” she muttered to herself as she began to clean the wound.
“It’s not my fault someone took aim at me.”
“Isn’t it? You must have done something to anger someone.”
“A fine quality, blaming me for being shot at,” he sneered sarcastically.
Faith knew she was wrong to do so, but she couldn’t help but slide back into her old argumentative ways. It was like Logan had said during her stay at Harris House. Anger was an easier emotion to feel and express than fear.
“Could it have been an accident? Perhaps you walked into the path of a hunter stalking prey.”
“I was on the road. No one in these parts would be so foolish as to stalk an animal so close to a fairway.”
“Not even early in the morning, when they had reason to believe the rest of the world was still asleep?” She shook her head as she dipped the crimson-soaked linen into the warm bowl of water. She squeezed it out and continued to wash away the blood.
He leaned forward, causing her to stop her nursing as she looked up into his hazel eyes.
