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Blood?

She blinked in confusion.

“Georgine?” Matilda’s alarmed voice, faint and muffled, seemed to come through a long tunnel.

“Oh, my God.” Aubriella flung an arm around Georgine. “You’ve been shot, Georgie.”

“I don’t feel any pain.” Georgine blinked, trying to focus her fuzzy vision. “So why am I bleeding?”

“She’s in shock.” Claire’s voice trembled. “Someone should notify her sister.”

Everything became hazy, making it hard to see and hear.

A second later, Robyn lifted Georgine into his arms. He spoke to her, but she couldn’t quite catch his words.

Was that tenderness in his hooded brown eyes?

Robyn never regarded her tenderly.

Mocking, derisive, exasperated, superior, and sardonic?

Indeed, and often.

The blood loss must be causing her to imagine things.

“Robyn Fitzlloyd, put me down,” she demanded, rather weakly. “What will people say?”

“If I put you down, you’ll collapse.” Jaw clenched, he marched toward the house. “Besides, I’d sooner tend a flea’s hiccup than fret about gossip.”

“Bossy brute.”

Then, the world slipped away.