Page 117 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"You will not have him!" she shouted, fighting with every ounce of strength she possessed.

Hugh screamed beneath her protection, and Margaret's only thought was that she would rather die than let this man take him.

Then suddenly the pressure vanished.

Margaret nearly stumbled from the force of the change. She turned, confused, and saw Pierce. He had Harrowby by the coat and was driving him backwards across the lawn, his face transformed by a fury Margaret had never witnessed before.

"Pierce!" she cried, but her relief lasted only a heartbeat because she saw the knife in Harrowby's hand.

Pierce was unarmed. Harrowby lunged, and Pierce twisted aside just as the blade flashed through the air. Margaret's heart stopped. Her husband was fighting for his life.

"Take Hugh inside!" Pierce barked.

She ran to the house because Hugh was still in her arms, and she knew she had to get him somewhere safe.

"Help!" she screamed again as she raced across the lawn. "His Grace is being attacked!"

Mrs. Norris threw open the door before Margaret reached it, and several footmen appeared behind her.

"At the far right corner of the garden!" Margaret gasped, pointing frantically. "Harrowby has a knife. His Grace is fighting him!"

The footmen stormed towards the garden while Mrs. Norris reached for Hugh.

Margaret handed the child over with trembling hands. "Take him inside and lock the doors," she ordered, barely able to breathe. "Do not open them for anyone until I return."

Mrs. Norris pulled Hugh against her, her expression grave, while Margaret was already turning away.

"Your Grace!" the housekeeper called, but Margaret did not stop. She ran back into the gardens, her skirts catching around her ankles and her heart pounding with terror.

As she raced towards the distant struggle, a single thought overwhelmed everything else. She had spent days telling herself she could manage without Pierce, pretending that his absence did not frighten her and that she could occupy herself with Hugh until he returned. But now she knew the truth with a clarity so painful it nearly stopped her. She could not lose him. She could not imagine waking to an empty bed because he had never returned. She could not raise Hugh alone, could not return to the life she had known before Pierce, because somewhere along the way he had become the center of her world.

"I cannot lose you," she whispered desperately as she ran faster. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to slow. "I cannot lose Pierce. I will die without him."

She stopped so abruptly that her skirts swept around her ankles, her breath catching painfully in her throat as she took in the scene before her. Pierce was standing, though his coat was torn and several cuts marked his face and hands, while two footmen held Harrowby between them. The Viscount was on his knees in the grass, breathing heavily, the knife lying several feet away where one of the servants had kicked it out of reach. Margaret stared at Pierce for one terrible second, hardly daring to believe that he was alive and standing before her.

"Summon the constables," Pierce ordered one of the footmen, his voice low but commanding despite the blood visible upon his sleeve. "Tell them Viscount Harrowby will be taken into custody immediately."

The servant bowed and hurried towards the house, while Harrowby struggled against the men restraining him. Margaret barely noticed him. Her entire world had narrowed to Pierce, and the sight of him upright was the only thing keeping her knees from giving way beneath her. He looked towards her, and the severity in his expression vanished.

"Margaret." Pierce crossed the grass towards her with astonishing speed.

She rushed forward at the same time, nearly colliding with him as she threw her arms around his waist.

"Hugh is safe," she cried, clutching him desperately. "He is completely unharmed. I gave him to Mrs. Norris, and she locked him inside. Harrowby never touched him. He did not even lay a finger upon him." She repeated the words as though saying them often enough could erase the terror of the past few minutes. "He is safe, Pierce. He is inside the house. I promise you, he is safe."

Pierce's arms closed around her, but Margaret could feel his body tense beneath her hands.

"And you?" he demanded, pulling back enough to look at her. His hands moved over her shoulders and arms, searching for injuries, his gaze travelling anxiously over her face. "Are you hurt?"

Margaret shook her head rapidly, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. "No. No, I am fine. I should have stayed inside, though. You were right. I should have listened to you."

Her voice broke as she pressed a hand to her mouth. "Outside is not safe. You told me, and I did not listen, and now look what happened."

"Margaret, breathe," Pierce said gently, placing both hands around her face. She tried, but her lungs seemed incapable of remembering how. Every breath came too quickly, and every thought returned to Hugh's frightened cry or the flash of Harrowby's knife.

"Hugh was nearly taken because I was outside," she sobbed, shaking her head. "I should have known better. I should have."

Pierce pulled her firmly against his chest before she could finish, wrapping both arms around her and holding her so tightly that she could feel his heartbeat beneath his shirt. For several moments he said nothing. He simply held her while she cried, one hand moving slowly over her hair and the other remaining secure against her back.