Page 31 of Bound By The Christmastide Moon

Still, her heart told her it might not be too late.

She could save him. Find out where the bullet had entered him and staunch the flow of blood.

It had to have been gunfire that brought him down. She’d noted the flash as if it were very close to her, but she couldn’t stop to see who’d fired the weapon.

There was no time for that.

Perhaps her time had run out already.

“Lady Mallory!”

The shout was familiar, but she kept moving toward the figure crumpled only a scant few paces from the hedge maze. If he were still in danger, she would be at his side through it—for what else did she have if she lost him?

A family who would rather keep her hidden? A brother who outright detested her for something she could not control? An aunt who sheltered her from the world but truly had done more harm than good?

That could not be all that was meant for her.

It wasn’t enough. It never had been.

But this man, Silas, had changed all of that when he offered for her hand. Oddly, he likely didn’t realize he was saving her, just as she’d saved him at the tavern—the way she meant to save him today, if it was in her power. She would spend their entire lives saving him, if necessary.

“Mallory!” The voice finally broke through her determination, and she halted, turning toward whoever shouted for her. “Mallory, stop!”

It could not be. She would not believe it.

Silas stood no more than twenty paces away, his face ashen with fear.

She looked back at the man lying on the ground, noting his subtle movements.

In an instant—or perhaps it was longer—Silas was at her side.

“Silas…but…the vision,” she mumbled, her entire body trembling as she gazed up into his familiar clear blue eyes. Her hands moved of their own accord to cup his smooth cheeks. He was real and standing before her. “Who—what—I was wrong, dreadfully wrong.”

“Shhhh.” Silas kept a hold of her, his comforting voice bringing a calm she’d never known. “It is only Slade, my brother, he is likely on one of his larks. And what is this mention of visions?”

“He is not shot?” Her voice was shrill, her throat burning from her earlier scream. When he shook his head and gestured toward the fallen man—Silas’s brother—she noticed him pushing to his feet. “Twins?”

She’d witnessed the scene through Silas’s eyes, not her own. It was his vision she’d seen, not a prediction of her own fate.

As a pair, they moved to Slade. The resemblance to Silas was shocking. The only difference of note was Slade’s hair. It was cut shorter and did not have the unruly curls Silas favored.

“Slade,” Silas growled, keeping her close to his side. “What is the meaning of this?”

The man’s sheepish grin was as dissimilar to his brother’s severe smile as his sheared locks. “I found I lost a hefty amount at the tables and needed a quick exit before Lord St. Giles came calling for my debts.”

“You’ve been at Keyvnor for no more than two hours.” Silas released her long enough to scrub at this face. “How is that possible?”

“Not my night, dear brother, not my night. Besides, I wouldn’t put it past St. Giles to open fire on me. Thought it in my best interest to play dead, as it were.”

“You thought it in your best interest to what?” Irritation laced Silas’s tone, and his brow drew low further darkening the night as anger rolled off him in waves, much like the sea battering the cliffs at Tetbery.

Slade finally noted Mallory, his stare taking her in from head to toe as he responded to his brother. “You know, let the man think he got me.”

“You are incorrigible.” Silas’s exasperation was evident.

“Yes, but that is why I am so bloody sought-after,” he said with a chuckle as he stared at the terrace behind them. “Speaking of which, I best be going before St. Giles finds me here.” With a quick bow, he turned to her. “Lady Mallory Hughes, I presume?”

“Yes.” Her voice quaked, and she took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “That is I.”