Page 17

After a thorough interrogation by Liam in the rose salon, requiring Kendra to impart every single detail she could possibly recall about the shooter: his horse, how he sat upon his mount, what he’d been wearing, the kind of gun he wielded, how he held the pistol, even the handkerchief covering his face, and the color of his eyes, she been permitted to seek her chamber.

Not, however, before receiving hearty hugs from her brother, mother, and sister-in-law.

“My bonnie, brave girl,” Mother murmured throatily. She shook her dark head, her gray eyes, so like Kendra’s and Liam’s, brimming with unshed tears. “I canna hardly fathom what ye’ve gone through this day. Och, and how brave ye’ve been, my girl.”

Liam nodded, rubbing his nape with one hand. “In all likelihood, Kendra, ye did indeed save Broden’s life. I confess, I’m puzzled why someone would shoot him. Everyone loves and admires the man.”

Kendra barely refrained from rolling her eyes. In point of fact, however, she’d had similar thoughts, and what Liam said was true. Broden was utterly charming to everyone. Everyone, that was, except her.

Emiline, a twinkle in her pretty eyes, gave Kendra an almost teasing smile. “And here I believed ye couldna abide the mon.”

“What should I have done?” Eyebrows arched, Kendra shrugged. “Let him die?”

“Of course no’,” Emeline swiftly reassured, casting Liam an inquisitive glance.

Must they make more of this than it was?

“Besides,” Kendra said, “’tis no’ that I dislike Broden. ’Tis that he’s able to irritate me as nae one else can, and I dinna like bein’ vexed continually. And I do believe the mon goes out of his way to do so, merely to goad a reaction from me.”

“Aye, darlin’, and ye so easily respond to his teasin’,” Mother said, not unkindly.

Kendra did, in fact, but she didn’t appreciate having the truth pointed out to her.

Mother’s expression turned speculative, and she opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Nonetheless, she regarded Kendra with slightly narrowed eyes, as if she’d stumbled upon a secret she wasn’t quite ready to share with the others.

For certain, Kendra would like to know whatever it was. Maybe then, she’d understand the man lying unconscious upstairs. Understand why she couldn’t expunge him from her mind despite her determination to do so. Even when she knew full well what he thought of her. Even when she was at odds with him most of the time.

Tossing her head to fling her hair behind her, she squared her shoulders. “For all we ken, the shooter was a cuckolded husband bent on revenge.”

The thought made her positively ill, and her empty stomach sank with the weight of fresh nausea.

“Nae.” Liam choked on a laugh, shaking his head. “I highly doubt that. Ye dinna ken him as I do.”

What?He didn’t dally with married women? He saved his cavorting for…? Who? Strumpets? Widows? Actresses?

Kendra couldn’t quite identify why the light teasing miffed her. She made no bones about her feelings toward Broden. If her family meant to imply something else went on between her and the great lout lying abed upstairs, then they were sorely—sorely—mistaken.

She’d done what any decent human being would do when another person was hurt.

After an eternity, but which had only in fact been a few more minutes, she finally excused herself. Before she made a sharp retort or unkind remark to her family. Her patience had long since evaporated, and she’d gone past the point of polite ripostes.

Truth to tell, she’d been utterly petrified she wouldn’t reach Eytone Hall in time.

Or that the murderer would pursue them.

She had never been so terrified in her life. Still, she hadn’t swooned at the sight of so much blood, and she’d been able to deliver Broden safely to the house. Those were no small accomplishments.

Evidently, as concerned as she was that the shooter might yet be skulking about, Liam had posted extra watches around the manor and the perimeter of the grounds. The women, including Mrs. McGregor, had been warned not to leave the house without an escort until the gunman had been caught.

Kendra paused brushing her hair, then shook her head.

Broden, an earl.

Could it possibly be true?

He’d lost consciousness before anyone had a chance to question him about his astounding declaration. She’d quite forgotten to ask Mrs. McGregor if it was true, and wouldn’t it be rude to pry at such a time as this?

A glance at the tabletop clock revealed the hour was a quarter of eleven.