Daring by Jillian Hunter

another gasp from the guests.
    “A man in a black mask took Lord Buchanan’s sister,” she added.
    “Took her where?” someone had the stupidity to ask.
    “They didn’t say. It—it was an abduction. I was hurt trying to stop them. Lord Buchanan went chasing after them too.”
    “Oh, my God. Connor!” A large-figured attractive woman in her fifties, with auburn hair, broke from the line of stunned guests to kneel at Maggie’s side. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll take care of you. Where were you shot?”
    The woman smelled heavily of powder and orange water, and her raspy voice was kind and concerned. The fan dangling on her wrist hit Maggie in the face. Her sable boa floated down to tickle her nose, but the worst part was that she kept leaning all her weight against Maggie’s left shoulder, which hurt like blue blazes as it was.
    “What is it, Bella?” one of the guests said.
    Ardath abandoned Connor at the fountain to investigate. “What happened, Mother?”
    “One of Connor’s young guests was shot trying to stop Sheena’s kidnappers,” the woman named Bella answered in a whisper.
    Maggie breathed out a sigh. “I suppose you could say I deserved this, turning felon and breaking into a house, but my motives were pure. I think I was shot in the shoulder. I’m not entirely sure. My head feels awfully queer. I must be hallucinating—I thought I heard an angel singing.”
    “That’s one of the cats that got locked up in the carriage house during the confusion,” Bella explained gently.
    “Dear heaven,” Ardath said. “Somebody fetch the Lord Advocate.”
    The color drained from the older woman’s face as she gently drew open Maggie’s cloak. “Lord help us. She’s only a wee thing. Connor. ” Her voice was deep and urgent, attracting the tall figure from the fish pond where he and Norah stood questioning the maid. Evidently his search for his sister had proven unsuccessful, and he had returned alone.
    Ardath stared at Maggie with tears welling in her eyes. “How bad is it, Mother?”
    “Someone send for the doctor,” Bella said gruffly. “Elliot’s daughter has been shot. To judge by her color, it doesn’t look good.”
    “I knew it,” Maggie whispered, and closed her eyes in resignation as people began running to and fro.
    The end must be very near, she thought. The head groom of Lord Buchanan’s household brought her a horse blanket and tucked her up in its smelly warmth. Patting her hand, he backed away with a tragic shake of his head.
    Then the Lion himself was kneeling over her, an intimidating man even in that humble position. Imprisoned in the perimeters of his shadow, she felt small, protected, and terrified of his latent power all at once. His presence momentarily eclipsed her own fear. A breath shuddered out of her chest.
    He was distraught and furious over his sister’s abduction—Maggie wasn’t quite so far gone that she could remain unaffected by the raw emotions that tightened his riveting features. Shock washed over his face when he recognized her from their recent encounter. His hazel eyes burned with the fires of hell’s vengeance as they met hers.
    “It’s all right,” he said quietly, touching his big hand to her forehead. “You’re a very brave girl, and I’ll take care of you. I’m going to find the men who did this. Try to rest.” He dropped his tone to a whisper. “Oh, lass, why didn’t you stay where I left you?”
    His voice sent shivers down her spine. It was a voice as warm and wonderful as whisky drunk without restraint on a winter night. His hand felt cool in contrast. His fingers were skilled and soothing, stroking her temple, evoking the most delicious sensations in her already overwrought nervous system. His strength comforted her.
    “If I’d known earlier this was going to happen,” she joked weakly, “I would have drunk another glass of champagne with you.”
    He swallowed hard. “Hush now. Save your strength, Philomena.”
    “I