Moonlight Surrender (Moonlight Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

fighting to keep his mind awake. He spied the wide figure on ground, dressed in black. Had the woman been shot as well?
    “Your friend?” As he asked the question, Duncan fought to remain above the waves of scarlet that reached up to pull him under like a violent sea assailing the sides of a ship during a storm.
    His concern surprised her. “She only fainted.”
    Duncan heard the thinly veiled disgust. “She sleeps heavily.”
    “Yes,” Beth agreed, far from happy about the matter. “I know. My mother sent her with me in hopes that she would protect me.”
    Duncan sagged against her once more, this time partly by design. The woman was soft in body, if not in temperament, and he required very little at the moment. “I would venture to say that you were in no need of protecting, General. You seem very capable.”
    That was both her strength, and to some, her failing, she thought. But what was, was.
    “I would hold that thought and my tongue, if I were you.” She looked into the interior of the coach. But in order to gain it, he would have to walk up two steps, or be dragged up. She certainly couldn’t carry him. “You need your strength.”
    As she turned, her breasts rubbed against his arm. He would have to be dead and buried not to feel them and not to react.
    “It takes very little strength to talk.”
    She knew she had absolutely nothing to fear from this man. He was as weak as a kitten. But there was just the smallest prick of nervousness weaving through her. An ticipation, perhaps. Uncertainty.
    But of what? And why?
    “Nonetheless, I wish you wouldn’t.” She addressed herself to the immediate problem. “Can you manage the steps?”
    He shifted so that he was leaning on her and not the coach. His eyes sparkled with more feeling than he had at his disposal. “It will be a sad day when I cannot lift a leg, mistress.”
    Beth nodded, trying not to think of how physically close she was to this man. And of the effect it was having on her. He was wounded and needed her skill, not some detached flights of fancy.
    “Good, then get in.”
    He cocked his head, unable to resist despite his con dition. “What was that?”
    “Get in,” she repeated, gesturing toward the coach as she braced herself, her hand splayed on the side. “Get in, get in.” He was rapidly growing too heavy for her.
    “Oh.” He clutched to the side with one hand, the other still draped over her shoulders. “I thought you’d said get on.”
    Beth all but pushed him into the coach, then climbed in after him. “Your lust far outshines your ability at the moment, sir.”
    “I would like to show you otherwise someday.” He chuckled to himself, the sound low in his throat, and completely unsettling to Beth.
    She was just angry, Beth thought. And rightly so. She was trying to save this heathen’s life, and he was after a way to get under her skirts.
    With tentative fingers, she probed the wound carefully. It was not clean through. The bullet was still in there. Damn.
    “Quiet,” she snapped at him. “Or I shall forget that you have rendered me a favor and that I am obligated to you.”
    He tried his best not to wince as she touched his shoulder. It felt as if a torch had been placed at its root. “Are you now, pretty lady?”
    She raised her eyes to his. “I am obligated to save your life as you have saved mine, nothing more.”
    As gently as possible, she tore away his shirt from the wound. She could see that even the slight movement inflicted pain. His jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth. It amazed her that his smile never wavered.
    “Your eagerness would please me more at another time, General.” Duncan barely ground out the words.
    Exasperation sapped her patience. He was wounded, perhaps severely so. Didn’t he know the danger he was in? “Will you hold your tongue?”
    Never let it be said that a Fitzhugh whimpered before pain. Duncan reached for her, but even his good arm dropped weakly at his side. His strength was