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she was.

The room rumbled with concern as the rain began, and Gwyneth feared for the safety of anyone who might venture outside at this moment. Was there a man out there reloading his rifle? Or a lightning bolt awaiting the unwary? The entire atmosphere around them had changed from one of waiting for a storm, to fear. Palpable fear.

She couldn’t take a chance that it might get out of hand, or wait for Giles to determine a course of action.

“Jeremy. Lift me up. As high as you can.” It was a lot to ask, but he did it, without hesitation.

She put her fingers into her mouth and thanked the Lord that Michael had taught her this trick so many years ago. She whistled, a piercing, attention-grabbing sound that shocked almost everyone into silence.

“Listen, please, everyone. There’s been an accident. I would like all the women and children to start going into the house itself. There are two doors behind you…” She pointed the way. “Once you’re inside, you’ll be quite safe until the storm passes. But right now, we don’t want any injuries from either flying glass or the shards on the floor…”

Pleased to see people moving in the right direction, she glanced down, seeing Royce and Gabriel bending over Evan. She wanted to cry out, to demand they tell her if he lived or died. But she knew that any panic, especially hers, would be a very bad thing at this moment. So she took another breath. “This is a severe storm, and we believe there may be people outside in the middle of it. Right now it’s too dangerous for any of us to leave the Manor and please keep away from the windows. Once the weather clears, we can take care of any damage.”

There were frowns and shaking heads amongst the men—they looked deeply worried.

“Tell them, Gwyneth. It’ll get out sooner or later anyway.” Jeremy dug his fingers into her legs.

He was right. “We believe Evan has been shot. Through the window, breaking the glass.” The announcement brought shocked silence, broken only by the thunder and the rain beating down from clouds that could hold no more.

“We do not know who, or why. Or if there’s anyone out there still. So please, let’s take no chances until the storm passes. For now, we must all stay inside and safe. After everything clears, we may need your help…”

“You have it, my Lady,” shouted one man.

“Yes…”

“Of course…”

The men’s voices rose as one in support of Gwyneth, and she heaved a sigh of relief. “Put me down, Jeremy. We must…we must…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her throat was closing at the thought that Evan might be dead.

“He’s breathing,” said Gabriel, on his knees beside Evan.

“He took a ball to the shoulder,” Royce said. “He’s alive. And lucky. An inch further to the left…”

Gwyneth swallowed. “Can we move him?”

Gabriel nodded. “I think so. There’s an old bench over there. It will do in lieu of a gate…”

“Careful then…let’s get him inside, to his room…” Giles hovered, his face white as a sheet.

Evan was silent. Too silent. Gwyneth’s heart still pounded as he lay there, unconscious, allowing the others to move him as they pleased.

She put her hand on Giles’s arm. “We have to stay, Giles. I want to go with Evan, but neither of us should leave these good people right now.”

He was pale, his eyes darting back to Evan, and his focus, for once, wasn’t on her. “Damn.” He swore, looking around, seeing what Gwyneth saw—the faces of men who were confused, a little scared and trying not to show either emotion.

“You’re right.” He clenched his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks revealing his tension.

“Trust in Royce and Gabriel and Jeremy,” she ordered. “I do.” She had a sudden thought. “I’ll find Trick and send him to you. We must keep everyone as calm as we can.”

He gave a sharp nod and turned away. “One of you lads take that old curtain down? We’ll try and cover the broken glass here.”

Giving them a mundane chore seemed to ease the air in the room, and Gwyneth nodded. “Good. I will go to the women.”

“Gwyneth…” Giles called her name quietly. “Thank you, my Lady.”

She felt the power of his words and shivered, but merely nodded. Today she had truly become part of Wolfbridge, but at what cost…

The women and children were also quiet, unusually so. But a flutter of expectancy rippled through the hall as Gwyneth made her way in from the ballroom. She forced a smile, knowing that even as she walked casually into the crowd, Evan was being taken upstairs via the servants’ stairs.

“I’m so sorry,” she began, moving through the nervous faces in the hall to the main staircase. She took a couple of steps up so that she could see everyone. A murmur of concern arose as she walked further in, and the women saw the blood soaking into her velvet overdress.

She did her best to ignore it. “It’s a bad storm and it looks as if there was someone outside at the time. Perhaps he was hunting, or dropped his weapon—we’re not sure, but yes, our Evan was wounded in his shoulder.” She looked around. “Is Trick here?” A ripple of movement drew her eyes to the back of the room and she saw him hurrying toward her. “Trick, Giles needs you.”

“Go,” said Jane, who had followed him more slowly. “I’m with my mother. We’re all right.”

He went without a word, his face mirroring the worry that she could feel like a thick presence lurking in the hall.

“Evan is in good hands at the moment, but will probably be quite sore for a time. We don’t know any more yet…” She devoutly hoped that she was speaking the truth and her heart

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