Crispin was just on the other side of the door, but it was solid, and he was as helpless as she. If she could only lie still. Stop herself from reacting and it might be better for all of them. Harkom might lose the ability, even, if he were confronted by meek passivity.
It would certainly be better for Crispin who’d be tormented by what he was helpless to remedy.
“You’ll die, any way I take you. You’ll die in a Turkish harem far away from here, unmourned by any, Faith, for you gave up your right to respect a long time ago.”
“And you did not, Lord Harkom?”
“Ah Faith, but you are a fine sparring partner. Why did I not make you my mistress when I could have set you up so nicely after Westaway forsook you?”
“I never forsook her!”
Suddenly, the door was open and Crispin’s tall, straight form was silhouetted in the doorway for a split second before he hurled himself onto Lord Harkom.
It was enough to knock him off her and, taking advantage of her reprieve, Faith rolled out from beneath him, finding sanctuary half under the bed.
Crispin’s eyes were trained on Lord Harkom, while Lord Harkom’s pistol was trained on Crispin.
“You’d die for her?” spat Harkom. ”Gutter scum? You’re more of a fool than I thought. A pretty face that will corrode soon enough, and then what will it all have been for? Well, it doesn’t matter, does it, for you’ll be dead!”
And then there was another commotion, outside, followed by the sound of splitting wood before the boat was jolted as if it had been sideswiped by a much larger vessel.
Faith screamed as Harkom’s weapon discharged.
Chapter 31
It had been a long journey home. Faith had been screaming, her body covering Crispin’s, when the boat was boarded and newcomers had spilled into the room.
More evil was about to render her more helpless.
If Crispin were dead, she wanted to die too. What was left for her if she was dragged home and forced to fend for herself, yet again? Her only refuge was Madame Chambon’s, and who knew how involved she was in the evil trade Lady Vernon and Lord Harkom had dabbled in.
So, she’d simply buried her face in Crispin’s neck, sobbing as she felt his weakened hand upon the back of her head; sobbing even more when she’d heard his whispered, “I’ll make sure you’re looked after, Faith.”
How could he look after her? The bullet wound to his chest had caused a spreading stain that she’d tried to staunch with her skirts, but still the blood oozed. He’d die from loss of blood before he died from anything else, and Faith would be watching, unable to do anything.
Her mind was so focused on Crispin’s needs, she gave no thought to Lord Harkom until she heard a masculine voice she could not place—although she was sure she’d heard it before—bark out a directive to someone else, and then the pounding of feet before a groan of pain.
“Harkom! That’s enough!”
Turning her face only so she could observe what was happening out of the corner of her eye, she saw a stocky young man bending by the prone figure of Lord Harkom, who gave a yell of pain as he was rolled over and his arms were tied behind his back.
“Christ, I’m not going anywhere! Can’t you see I’ve taken a bullet?”
And indeed, a spreading pool of blood near his shoulder bore testimony to the claim.
But he was not mortally wounded as Crispin was. If Faith wasn’t focused so wholly on protecting Crispin from evil, she’d have hurled herself on her violator and clawed his eyes out.
“Faith? Faith, are you all right?”
With an effort, she turned her head, blinking dazedly to find herself staring right into Lord Delmore’s eyes.
“Crispin’s been shot,” she wept, the tears starting to flow. “Lord Harkom shot him.” With the emotion unleashed, she found she could not stop, and as Lord Delmore put his arms about her to draw her to her feet, she still could not stop. “He’s dying,” she whimpered as she pressed her face against Lord Delmore’s chest.
“We’re going to do everything we can to help him; make sure that doesn’t happen,” soothed Lord Delmore as he patted her on the back before pushing her away in order to kneel beside Crispin.
“I’ve seen men worse than that come off the battlefield, and live. Come with me, Faith. The boat’s waiting.”
Shocked, Faith locked eyes with the last person she expected to see on a boat so far from home. But as she suffered to allow herself to be led by the woman she blamed for causing her downfall, she realised too that Miss Eaves must have acted swiftly and boldly to have effected the rescue that had just taken place.