Free Her Forbidden Gunslinger by Harper St. George Page B

that when next she happened to notice, Jean was standing before her pushing that bouquet into her hands again. The flowers must have fallen, because she looked down and saw perfect white petals sprinkled across the dark wood floor.
    She wanted to take the bouquet, tried to move her fingers, but they wouldn’t respond to her command so the flowers fell to the floor again. Before she realized what had happened, Jean’s hand gripped her throat and the door pressed to her back. He stood above her, murmuring some threat, the whites of his eyes seeming to glow from his anger, but she couldn’t understand the words. Could only barely feel his fingers where they pressed at her neck.
    Jean’s anger seemed so silly. He couldn’t know it, but Gray had accomplished what threats and fury never could have. Gray had broken her. By not even acknowledging her presence, by turning his back on his promise and the love she’d hoped they’d shared, he’d made it so she could hardly stand there holding herself up, much less offer Jean any fight. Even if her uncle allowed her to go, she hardly had the will to walk to the front door much less leave Helena.
    Whatever Jean saw in her face seemed to reassure him and he let her go. Sophie glanced around to find the hall deserted. Sinclair and the last guest must have gone inside. Martine had disappeared. No one had witnessed his outburst. Of course not—he never would’ve done it had someone been around to see it. The thought had barely registered before Jean was sliding her hand through his arm and escorting her into the parlor.
    It was filled with men. A few had brought their wives but most had come alone. She recognized a few from balls and dinners but the others were new faces. Without conscious thought, her gaze sought Gray. Even if she’d walked in with her eyes closed, she would’ve known where he stood. She gravitated to him like iron to a magnet.
    He stood against the wall to her left and was watching her. She’d expected the cool demeanor he’d shown in the hall but now he appeared tense and his gaze burned into her. Even now, when he’d clearly abandoned her and she knew he felt nothing, those gray eyes had the power to touch her. She blinked to keep her composure and forced herself to stare straight ahead.
    Jean had guided her to the end of the aisle where Anton stood waiting. She didn’t acknowledge him, though, simply continued to stare ahead. Maybe if she kept herself away from what was taking place it wouldn’t really happen. Maybe it would all go away and she would wake up back in Gray’s room with his arms around her and his heart beating beneath her ear. The thought was so painful it made her close her eyes to steel herself against it while a tear slid down her cheek. And when she opened them, the whole world had changed.
    Someone shouted; it sounded like Sinclair. She turned her head to find him and saw the parlor doors had opened. Had someone else come in? For a split second everyone stopped, but then the room erupted in a flurry of movement. Something hit her from behind so hard it laid her out on the ground and knocked the breath from her lungs. Just then she heard three gunshots. She tried to move but the weight was still on her. The shooting was over in seconds and the room filled with the acrid smoke of the shots; she could even taste it.
    Gray was shouting near her ear. She turned her head from the sound and realized it was his weight that was on her back. Sinclair was kneeling near the door, his smoking gun still in hand. Just as quickly as he had tackled her, Gray was off her and had grabbed Anton. She watched in horror as they struggled, unable to comprehend what was going on. Her gaze took in the chaos of the room and saw that many others had come in; one of them she recognized as the sheriff, his star-shaped insignia pinned to his shirt.
    She didn’t see Jean, but Anton had been subdued and was lying on the floor as his hands were tied behind his back.