England's Perfect Hero (40 page)

"Let Georgiana go," she whispered. "I'll stay here."

"I like sitting between two lovely ladies. You're comfortable here, aren't you, Lady Dare?"

"I'm afraid all the hot air coming from you is making me a bit lightheaded," Georgie snapped. "Put your damned gun away. If you hurt either of us you'll be grateful you can only die once."

"Ah, so we're not being polite any longer? What a shame. This afternoon has been so pleasant."

"And getting more so by the minute," Robert's hard voice came from directly behind them. Geoffrey's head went forward, as though he was bowing. As Lucinda turned to look, though, she realized his sudden contrition was because Robert was pushing the muzzle of a pistol hard against the back of Geoffrey's skull.

"I'll shoot her, Carroway," Geoffrey snarled, all the amiable attitude gone from his voice.

"You can go to prison, or you can go to hell, Newcombe," Robert's cold, deadly voice came again. "You always have a chance of getting out of one of them, but the decision's yours."

Slowly the hard jab of the pistol left her side. "Georgiana, come with me," Lucinda said, keeping her voice low and quiet so she wouldn't rattle either man.

Swinging around the table she took Georgie's hand to pull her to her feet, and they backed away. In a moment Dare shoved his body in front of the two of them, and her father gripped her shoulder hard.

"Lucinda, are you hurt?" he rumbled.

She kept her gaze on Robert and Geoffrey, both as unmoving as statues. "I'm fine. Robert, we're fine," she repeated in a louder voice.

"Throw your damned pistol away," Robert growled through clenched teeth.

Geoffrey complied. "All right, Carroway. You've won," he snapped. "We can be gentlemen about this."

"I don't think we can." Robert didn't look as though he was finished with anything. He didn't even seem to be breathing, he stood so still, all of his attention on the man seated in front of him.

"Don't do it, Bit," Dare breathed, and abruptly Lucinda realized just how much trouble Geoffrey was in. He'd committed the cardinal sin; he'd threatened the lives of people Robert cared about.

Oh, no. Oh, no
. Lucinda took a step forward, only to have her father's hand clamp down harder on her shoulder.

"Stay here," he said.

Shrugging free of her father's grip, she took another slow step forward. Robert hadn't moved; he still had the pistol shoved against the back of Geoffrey's head, the weapon gripped so hard in his hand that his knuckles showed white.

"Robert," she said quietly, moving to the far side of the table and laying her hands flat on its surface. "He's going to prison, just as you said. You did it."

His jaw worked. "He turned a pistol on you," he rasped.

"I'm not hurt."

"She's not hurt, Carroway. For Christ's sake."

"Geoffrey, shut up," she ordered, keeping her voice calm. "He hasn't gotten away with anything, Robert. Bit." Keeping her hands in front of her, she walked around the side of the table. "If you kill him, you'll have to go to prison. I don't want you to go to prison, Bit. I want you here, with me."

Geoffrey made a whimpering sound, but apparently he believed the threat to be real enough that he kept his mouth shut as she'd told him to. A muscle in Robert's jaw jumped, and abruptly she was aware of how quiet everything had become.

"It's just us, Robert." She put a hand on his shoulder, running it slowly down his outstretched arm until her hand covered his.

"I know. I know." With a deep, shuddering breath he relaxed, lifting his hand and turning it so she could take the pistol.

Just as she did, Geoffrey slammed back in his chair. The three of them tumbled to the ground in a writhing heap, and the pistol went flying. Panicked, Lucinda scrambled backward. Snarling, Geoffrey rolled onto his hands and knees and lunged at Robert. She screamed.

Robert ducked sideways, keeping himself between Geoffrey and her. With a quick, hard jab he sent Geoffrey reeling again. Without pause he threw himself onto Geoffrey, slamming him into the ground and smashing his fist again and again into Newcombe's stomach, his ribs, and his face.

"You don't know what it is to fight for your life, do you?" he hissed, yanking Geoffrey up by his lapels. "You're about to find out." He shoved hard, and Geoffrey went backward through the cafe table.

"Robert, stop!"

Dare and Shaw swarmed up on either side of them, dragging Geoffrey backward, away from Robert. As soon as they had him in hand, Lucinda scrambled to her feet and wrapped her arms around Robert. People would talk, people would gossip, and she didn't care. His body shook, and after a moment his arms came up around her back, pulling her to him.

"I would die again for you, Lucinda," he murmured.

"I don't want you to die for me. I want you to live." Pulling his face down, she kissed him. Again and again, until he kissed her back with growing passion and until his body stopped shuddering. "I love you," she whispered against his mouth, knowing he wouldn't—couldn't—say it, himself.

And then he surprised her. "I love you, Lucinda," he whispered back. "I wish I could be what you want."

She lifted her head to look him in his deep blue eyes. "You
are
what I want, Robert. Even before I knew."

"I can't… be like other men," he returned, heat coming into his gaze, filling her heart with its fire. "I can try, but I—"

"Lesson number three was to have interests outside your physical appearance," she said, swiping hair from his left eye. "Lesson number four was to be able to show the same regard to my father's back as you show to his face. I know you don't like him, but you've shown him more respect than Geoffrey could ever dream of. You're him, Robert. You're the one I've been looking for. I don't want simple. I want you."

"You want me," he repeated, the tension slowly leaving his face. The soft, hesitant smile curved his lips. "You're very foolish."

"No, I'm finally not being foolish."

He leaned down again and kissed her, soft and light as a feather. "Are you certain about that?"

"Yes, I'm certain."

He took a breath, his eyes lighting to azure. "Will you marry me, Lucinda? Will you stay with me?"

She nodded. "I will marry you, and I will stay with you, Robert. I wouldn't be happy anywhere else."

"I couldn't breathe without you, I don't think."

Dare appeared at his brother's shoulder. "And he'd definitely kill the roses without your help," he said, the glint in his eyes far more meaningful than the light smile on his face.

"Yes, there is that," Robert agreed, tightening his grip around her waist and lifting her off the ground. "You brought me back to life."

She wiped an abrupt tear from her cheek. How odd that she was crying, when she was so happy, and relieved, and hopeful in his arms. "I think you taught me what being alive is. So we're even."

The rest of their army had arrived, Saint holding onto Edward's arm to keep the boy from kicking the kneeling Geoffrey in the head. They stood with varying degrees of surprise and approval on their faces. Even her father didn't look terribly upset. Whatever they'd spoken about in his office, the general had obviously been supremely impressed.

Robert's smile deepened. "What?" she asked, grinning in return.

"My knee doesn't hurt. You're a miracle worker."

"I'll remind you of that when I make you dance at our wedding."

He laughed. It was the first time she'd heard him do so, and it was definitely a sound she could get used to. It was a sound she intended to get used to. He'd said he couldn't be like other men, but she didn't consider that a detriment. He would have his bad moments, his dark memories, she knew, but they would deal with them together. She wanted to help him, and she wanted to be with him when he finally felt able to emerge fully into the sunlight. She glanced over to see Evie and Georgiana holding hands, both of them crying and laughing.

They'd done it. They'd delivered their lessons, and found their loves. For an idea spawned out of frustration on a rainy day, it had turned out rather well. Lucinda looked up at Robert again, and with a smile he kissed her softly on the lips. Their idea had turned out exceedingly well, if she said so herself.