Free Regina Scott by The Rakes Redemption Page B

I fear it’s addled your wits.” His eyes narrowed, and Imogene had never heard his voice so hard as he said, “Arthur Everard is gone. His thoughtless actions brought his death upon his own head. I suggest you accept that fact.”
    “Never!” Vaughn’s fists were clenched at his sides. “He didn’t shoot that ball into his own chest. Someone killed him. I will not rest until I know the truth.”
    Imogene hurt for him. How he must have loved his uncle that the unexplained death brought such pain! She could understand his need to know why; she’d certainly asked God the same question when Charles had died. But blaming her father wasn’t going to help matters.
    Her father seemed to agree. “If you cannot envision a better way to spend your time, Mr. Everard,” he said, “perhaps I should give you one.”
    He reached out and slapped Aethon on the rump.
    It all happened so fast Imogene couldn’t have acted to save herself. Even as she gasped, the white horse reared, cracking the traces, and one set of reins flew from her fingers. She clutched at the air, but the leather slapped the ground as the horse rushed forward, dragging Aeos with him.
    The force of their run slammed Imogene back in the seat, and she grabbed at the brass railing of the driver’s bench to keep from falling under the whirling iron-bound wheels. Each bump across the grass rattled her bones, her teeth. She clung to the single set of reins, wrapped them around her fist and tugged hard.
    The horses ignored her.
    Fear crawled up her back and settled in her heart. She could not imagine what her father had been thinking, but she knew she had only one hope of rescue as the horses headed for the trees.
    Lord, help me!
    * * *
    Vaughn’s hat fell from his fingers as Aethon reared and started to drag the carriage forward.
    “Are you mad?” he demanded even as he raced after it. Over the rattle of tack and the crack of iron on rock he thought he heard the marquess laugh. Then there was no time to think, only to act.
    Fortunately, that’s what he did best. Before the carriage could pick up speed, he launched himself at the back. His fingers snagged on the brass of the tiger’s perch, and he clung to it, feet dragging along the ground. Someone was going to owe him a new pair of boots after this! Fingers tightening, he hauled himself up onto the perch.
    The carriage careened to one side and nearly bucked him off. Blood roaring louder than the wind, he pulled himself upright and hooked first one hand then the other onto the roof. The curved lacquered wood heaved like a ship in a storm. He could see Imogene’s head, bobbing along with the carriage as if she were no more than a little girl’s porcelain doll.
    She was much more than that to him. He would not allow her to be harmed.
    Fingers clamped to the brass on either side, he pulled himself up and crawled along the wood until he could swing himself beside Imogene.
    Her bonnet was hanging down her back; her face was white. But she held on to Aeos’ reins as if it meant her life. Perhaps it did. She didn’t even glance at Vaughn as he slid in beside her.
    “Easy,” he said, leaning closer. “Let me help.”
    She jerked a nod as if speaking was too much. He wrapped his fingers around hers. Together they turned the left horse, forcing Aethon to match him. The pair veered in a circle, the momentum pressing Imogene against Vaughn. For a moment he fancied he could hear her heart drumming over the sound of the horses’ hooves, over the pounding of his own heart. He put his arm around her to steady her and held her tightly.
    The horses slowed, walked, then stood. The carriage rolled to a stop at nearly right angles to the team. Another few seconds, and the chariot would have tipped over. Vaughn released Imogene and watched as she took a shaky breath.
    “Really, Mr. Everard,” she said. “You go to great lengths to put your arm around me.”
    Vaughn chuckled at her wit, even after nearly losing her life.