“Shut up, Danford,” Turner-Camden repeated. “Don’t listen to him, Perry. He’s the voice of a dead man.”
“Yeah, but so was I if Clairemont had come prepared for me,” Perry said. “And maybe this toff is right. After all, if I’d been killed, it would have proved to you that Clairemont was a fake just as much as if I’d come back to you with a report.”
“Seems there’s no honor amongst thieves,” Gray said, signing the papers slowly, his voice still utterly calm despite the tenuous situation. “So who in this room is the bigger danger? Me, without a weapon, without a hope, or him? The man who wants it all and probably needs someone to frame for my death. I assume you’ll make it look like a robbery, will you?”
Perry turned his weapon on Turner-Camden, and in that moment Stalwood and Clairemont burst from the secret passageway. Gray dropped behind his desk as the two men moved on Perry and Turner-Camden. Clairemont dove for Perry, hitting the tough with all his weight and sending his gun clattering away.
Meanwhile, Stalwood moved on Turner-Camden, slamming him to the ground with a well-placed punch and then rolling him to his stomach to tie his hands behind his back.
Perry struggled as Clairemont fought to restrain him, spitting up curses into his face as they grappled on the floor. But Clairemont was stronger, bigger, and he was beginning to get the upper hand just as the door to the parlor flew open once more and Celia rushed into the room, Rosalinde on her heels.
The distraction was all Perry needed. As Clairemont jerked his face toward her, Perry dipped a hand into his boot and came out with a knife. Celia screamed his name as Perry pressed the blade hard into his shoulder.
Fiery pain burst through Clairemont as he reeled back and threw a wide looping elbow, catching Perry across the temple. The man grunted and flopped back against the floor, unconscious.
“Oh my God, Aiden,” Celia said, stepping toward him as Rosalinde rushed to Gray at his desk. The knife was still protruding from Aiden’s shoulder and his face was dark with pain and emotion.
He ignored her, flipping the unconscious Perry to his stomach and hog-tying him at last. He stood up and spun on her, but if she expected the warm embrace that Gray and Rosalinde were now sharing, he disappointed her by glaring at her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped. “Both of you?”
Stalwood rolled his eyes at the couples. “I’ll take Lord Turner-Camden out to the agents waiting behind the house,” he said, “and let you all have a moment. We’ll return for Perry briefly and to have that wound checked.”
Aiden glanced at the knife in his shoulder as his mentor dragged Turner-Camden from the room. Rolling his eyes, he yanked it from his shoulder and tossed it aside. Celia’s stomach clenched as blood seeped from the hole in his jacket.
“Aiden,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he insisted, despite evidence to the contrary. “Answer my question.”
Gray had been holding Rosalinde, but now he pushed back, still gripping her arms. “Yes, whatareyou doing here?”
Celia folded her arms, her anger starting to rise at his dismissive behavior. “You told Rosalinde that when the horses were gone from the drive, it was safe. There weren’t any horses in the drive.”
“It’s true,” Rosalinde said. “We assumed it was over, but your villains must have come in a hack, for when we came in, we heard the commotion in the hall.”
“So you rantowarddanger?” Aiden shouted, his face turning almost tomato red as he stared at Celia. “Do you understand how utterly foolish that is? Do you understand that if you’d been hurt I would have—” He spun away from her and returned his attention to the still-unconscious Perry on the floor. “I would have died, Celia.”
“But Iwasn’thurt,” Celia said. “You were. Now, will you let Gray guard this…this…personuntil Lord Stalwood returns and allowmeto examine your wound?”
Gray moved forward, his hand still firmly in Rosalinde’s. “Go ahead, Clairemont. I’ll keep an eye on Perry. I assume in a moment my house will be swarming with agents of the crown who will relieve me of these duties.”
Aiden pursed his lips. “Fine,” he said.
Celia took a long breath. At least she would get a moment alone with him. Away from the others, she might at last be able to touch him and ensure he was all right.
Probably for the last time.
He turned his gun over to Gray and she stretched her hand out to him. He took it with a quick glance at the others, then followed her out of the room.
She probably should have taken him to the kitchen or another parlor, but she didn’t. She led him upstairs and down the hall to her bedroom. He paused at the door.
“Celia,” he whispered.
She ignored him as she all but dragged him inside. “Take off your jacket and your shirt,” she said, walking away from him to the basin on her dresser. There she wet a cloth, trying to slow her racing heart before she turned back to him.
He was tugging the shirt over his head when she did. She caught her breath both at the sight of his bare chest and at the huge cut on his shoulder. A few inches lower…
“Stop staring, it’s only another scar,” he whispered.
