Hefting up the skirt of her riding habit, she fumbled her way through layers of fabric and wrenched the derringer free fromher garter, but before she could do more than get a firm grip on it with one hand and yank her skirt down with the other, a beast of a stallion came to a stop a few feet away from her right before a hulking brute of a man swung from the saddle.
For a moment, she found herself rooted to the spot because the man now setting his sights on her was the largest man she’d ever seen and radiated a sense of power that was impossible to ignore. With him being well over six feet tall, it was understandable why he was riding such an enormous horse, especially when he wasn’t simply tall but also broad, the seams of the ill-fitting jacket he was wearing straining against what she could only assume were impressive muscles—ones probably amassed by doing some manner of physical labor.
Or absconding with people on a regular basis.
That thought had her lifting her gaze from his shoulders, discovering in the process that he was missing his hat and that his hair, an unusual shade of brown mixed with a hint of mahogany, was distinctly windswept, that circumstance a direct result, no doubt, of him having been chasing her only seconds before.
Calling herself every sort of ridiculous for being distracted by a perusal of the man when, clearly, he was a distinct threat to her, Camilla lifted the derringer with an unsteady hand and aimed it his way.
The man’s hands were raised above his head a second later. “Whoa there, little lady, let’s not be hasty now. What say you stow away that pistol before your feminine sensibilities get the better of you and you end up harming yourself.”
For the briefest of seconds, Camilla found herself incapable of mustering up a retort to that nonsense, probably because no one had ever called her “little lady” before in a tone that suggested the man thought she was some witless female, nor had anyone ever had the audacity to suggest she was prone to feminine sensibilities.
She opened her mouth to disabuse him of his absurd notions, but snapped it shut when he began lowering his hands, undoubtedly togain access to the monstrosity of a pistol she noticed was sticking out of a holster slung low on his hip.
“Don’t move,” she demanded.
He immediately raised his hands again. “I have no intention of harming you, so tuck that derringer away nice and easy so you don’t unintentionally shoot yourself with it.”
“I won’t be the one I shoot.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain about that,” the man argued. “You’ve just suffered a tumble from your horse, and you were about to be waylaid by a gang of men with malice on their minds. You certainly can’t be expected to be clearheaded right now, and no one should handle a weapon in that state.” He nodded to the derringer. “It might be best if you just set that on the ground.”
“Would you like me to kick it your way, as well?”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
She quirked a brow. “Except that, contrary to what you evidently believe, I’m not a complete and utter simpleton.”
“I don’t recall suggesting you were a simpleton.”
“It was implied, given that you think I’m not only going to set my weapon on the ground but also send it your way.”
“You’re the one who suggested kicking it to me. Nevertheless, my suggestion that you distance yourself from your derringer was simply for your own good, as you’re clearly in a highly agitated state and that’s when most accidents with guns occur.”
“I’m not in a highly agitated state.”
“The fact that your voice just raised an octave suggests otherwise,” he said before he drew in a deep breath, slowly released it, then drew in another.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Hoping you’ll follow my example and begin taking a few deep breaths as well, which will do wonders to calm the state of your nerves.”
She felt the most distinct desire to pull the trigger and had to refuse the inclination to draw in a deep breath, as that would certainlyleave the man believing she was heeding his ridiculous advice. “If you were truly concerned about my nerves,” she settled for saying instead, “the last thing you would tell me is to calm down.”
“I didn’t tell you to calm down,” he countered. “I was merely suggesting a remedy that might have benefited your agitated state, a state you seemed to embrace from the moment I got off my horse.”
“Because you addressed me as ‘little lady.’”
His brows drew together. “You found that aggravation-worthy?”
“It was insulting.”
“Huh,” the man said before he took a step toward her, something that recalled Camilla back to the troubling situation at hand.
“Don’t move,” she demanded again as she tightened her grip on the pistol.
He froze on the spot. “I’m really not going to harm you.”
