“Please, Lydia. You have a gift. You can’t give it up.”
“Gifts are meant to be used to glorify God. All I ever did was glorify evil. Tomorrow I will take that manuscript from Theresa’s guest room and burn it. No one else will die by the ink of my pen.”
He stepped closer but stopped short when she retreated. Hurt clouded his countenance. “I would never harm you.”
“You might. You could be Billy Poe.”
Hazel eyes pleaded with her. “You can trust me. I’m your friend, and if you give me your manuscript—”
“No.” If she’d had any doubts over his true reason for being here, they were gone now. “I’m sorry, but you are no longer welcome here. Please leave.”
“You would end our friendship over this?”
“You don’t actually care about our friendship. All you want is that manuscript so that you can save your job. I’d rather risk your job than the life of another man. It’s over, Mr. Monroe.”
He flinched at the formality.
“Leave and do not return. There is nothing for you here.”
The brim of Marcus’s hat crumpled within his fists, and his nostrils flared. However, he wasn’t red-faced, nor did any of his veins bulge. He might be upset, but he was far from a raging bull.
Lydia held her ground and waited him out.
At last, he jerked a nod, jammed his hat on his head, and strode out the door. It slammed with such force, she jumped at the crash.
Abraham emerged from the parlor with his gun still in hand. Detective Lawson followed close on his heels and slipped outside.
Abraham touched her elbow as he holstered his weapon. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” It wasn’t completely true, but how was she supposed to explain the ache of shoving a former friend away despite his possibly being a vile vigilante?
“Lawson is tailing Monroe. I’ll stay until he returns, then I’ve been ordered to go home for a good night’s sleep.”
“But Billy might try to break into the house tonight.” Involuntarily, she drew nearer to him.
He didn’t move away, instead caressing her arm with gentle encouragement. “You’ll be safe. Lawson’s bringing back several men to watch the house. Besides, I can’t always be around. Sleep with Miss Plane tonight and keep this handy.” He withdrew a hidden derringer from near his ankle.
“You did hear me tell you that I can’t shoot an object within three feet of me.”
“And that’s why I’m going to teach you in the carriage house. Colonel Plane has an area he uses for target practice.”
Lord, have mercy on her soul. The man was going to teach her to use a gun? How many times had she written such a scenario into her books? It had seemed so romantic when she’d written of masculine arms steadying the woman’s aim, the man and woman cheek to cheek as they lined up the sights. Now the only thing she could imagine was accidentally shooting her hero when she missed so badly the bullet hit something metal and ricocheted back at them. Or worse, she’d just put the bullet straight into him.
“I don’t think this is a wise idea. You greatly underestimate how poor a shot I am.”
“I think you’ve just had poor instructors. If you’re still not comfortable after I teach you, we’ll find another weapon for self-defense.”
Should she tell him Theresa likely had that covered? Or should Lydia allow him the opportunity to improve her shot, and herself the chance to enjoy a romantic gun outing with her “beau”?
One glimpse into his imploring eyes and she melted. He could ask her to learn how to dance with a cobra and she’d say yes. She only hoped he wouldn’t regret it.
CHAPTER27
“IS IT LOADED?” LYDIA TURNEDthe gun to check.
Abraham’s heart jumped to his throat. With a quick and controlled movement, he pushed her arm down and pulled the gun from her hand. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to look down the barrel of a gun?”
Her face paled. “Well, yes, but I got so nervous, I forgot.”
