Charmed and Dangerous by Jane Ashford

looked back. “You’re wounded. I must—”
    â€œYou must mind your own damned business,” he interrupted.
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. Wait right there.”
    But Laura had not even reached the steps again when he grabbed her wrist hard enough to bruise. “You will not tell anyone what occurred here tonight,” he said.
    Laura jerked away from him, smudges of his blood on her wrist. The blaze of his eyes made her back away.
    â€œIt is none of your affair. Forget what you saw.”
    â€œBut…” At a loss for words, Laura gestured toward the wall where the ominous shadow had disappeared and then at his bleeding arm.
    â€œAn interesting development,” commented Gavin.
    â€œInteresting?”
    He gazed at the wall, then raised his wounded arm experimentally. He winced and muttered a curse. “I won’t be climbing tonight,” he added. His head moved as if he were examining every inch of the garden, looking for a way out.
    â€œNot unless you wish to bleed to death,” said Laura tartly. “What is going on? I don’t understand.”
    â€œThere is no need for you to do so. Go back inside.”
    He spoke as if she were a highly unsatisfactory servant. Laura put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
    â€œSomeone didn’t want to be followed,” he explained curtly. “Now go…”
    â€œHow can you act this way when you have a knife in your arm?”
    â€œIt isn’t serious.”
    â€œReally? You’ve been attacked so often you can tell without examining the wound?” she asked sarcastically.
    â€œYes.” He turned his back on her, moving slowly to the high brick wall surrounding the garden and beginning to walk along it, checking for a gate hidden in the dimness.
    Laura watched him in amazement, trying to comprehend his behavior. He seemed a different man. The mockery was gone; his lazy detachment was revealed as a pose. He was intent and focused—utterly absorbed. It still seemed senseless to her to ignore the aid that waited a few feet away. But he clearly had no intention of communicating with anyone. She couldn’t resist moving farther into the dark garden and following his progress around the wall. “Do you think it was a footpad?” she asked after a while.
    â€œWill you go inside!”
    â€œNo.”
    Gavin stopped and looked at her, his face pale in the light from the windows. “Mrs. Pryor will be looking for you,” he said.
    â€œYes, she may even come out here. The general too. They will make a great fuss.”
    â€œWhat is it that you want?” he snapped.
    â€œI want to know what happened.”
    â€œSomeone threw a knife at me and then escaped over the wall, and if I am to have any hope of discovering…”
    â€œBut why do you not summon the authorities? If it was a thief…”
    â€œThieves do not climb over walls into well-guarded houses when a ball is in progress,” he said with exaggerated patience.
    â€œIf it was not a thief, then who was it? Who would want to attack you?”
    â€œThis is none of your affair.”
    â€œAn enraged husband?” she asked, remembering the remarks of the Frenchwomen a few days ago.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOr a brother, perhaps?” Laura nodded to herself. “And that is why you don’t want anyone to find out—because of the scandal.”
    Gavin had finished his circuit of the garden wall. Now he came closer. “That’s it,” he replied. “Crime of passion. Mustn’t drag the lady’s name in the dirt.”
    His mocking tone was back, Laura noticed. He was speaking to her as if she were a child. She didn’t believe a word of it.
    â€œSo you can understand,” he added. “This shouldn’t be mentioned.”
    â€œYour time must be fully occupied,” Laura answered dryly. “When you are not dragging me into dark gardens, you are