Page 10 of The Duke’s Hellion (Duke Dare #3)

T he archery activities were about to start, and Mimi felt giddy at the prospect.

This she was good at. And despite the conflicting advice she was receiving, she just knew in her heart that if she could show Roger her full self that he would accept her.

And more. Fate had aligned the stars and shown her the brightest one. She just needed to stay the course.

This was no time to show fear, not that she ever did.

She was fearless. Almost. There was only one thing she was afraid of—but, no, that rarely came up.

She was always careful on that front. And her sister knew how to step in during those moments.

They happened so infrequently that she had forgotten the last time one of her siblings had had to interfere on her behalf.

Mimi eyed the target. Casually, she let her eyes wander to Roger.

Since her last dress hadn’t caught his attention, she determined that perhaps that the man simply didn’t have a proclivity to fashion-minded women.

That wasn’t a problem. Fashion wasn’t a priority for her anyway.

Roger was surveying the targets as well, and then his focus shifted to his equipment.

His bow and arrows, that is. He was fastidiously checking the arrows, rubbing his fingers across each tip.

It reminded her that she needed to check her bow soon, as well.

Roger walked toward her, and she wanted to clap. Perhaps he was already starting to see her differently.

“Sam,” he tipped his head, gesturing toward the targets, “Are you ready for this?”

“Surprised you even have to ask,” Sam chuckled. “I could hit these bullseyes blindfolded.”

Mimi coughed, and Sam sent her a curious look. A knowing look. A look that made her want to laugh, rather than expose him.

Roger replied, “I’m sure you could—”

A sound wrenched the air, “Woof!”

Within a split second, Mimi saw black. Her feet grew roots. Her hands were submerged in pools of sweat. Her heart rattled inside of her, unsure of its place, and her thoughts scattered. They were running for the hills, exactly what she should be doing but couldn’t.

There was nothing. But there was chaos. She could hear voices but the people around her were a blur.

Where there had been trees, she only saw green blobs.

Where there had been grass, she saw clumps of color.

Not that she was even trying to look at the nature surrounding her.

No, her sensations were dulled, yet somehow altogether heightened at the same time.

The hairs on her neck were standing to attention based on something she couldn’t see.

It was all reminiscent of a scene that she had tried to forget.

In her everyday life, she had nearly forgotten it.

But one sound. One small, yet petrifying sound reduced her to a weak little girl.

If she had the emotional capacity for resentment in this instant, she would resent without any constraints, how fragile she felt.

She was not fragile. But this…this feeling…

caused by that one horrendous sound…she was exposed.

Defenseless. Her body was already betraying her leaving her susceptible to another attack.

“Mimi?” That was Sam’s voice, and it sounded laced with concern. A warm hand was on her forearm. “Are you all right?”

She couldn’t answer him. She wanted to, but her tongue wouldn’t cooperate with her.

Never mind her tongue, her mind was working on repairing the damage of the explosion that had gone off in her brain.

Pieces of memories were strewn about. Visions of things that had never happened to her were intermingled.

There were truths and there were falsehoods, but given an entire army to clean up this mess, it would still take her days to sift through and identify reality.

All she could see was a large, black dog barreling toward her. Terror would be putting it mildly. Her mind saw the dog but remembered another time and place. A large gray dog, snarling, baring its teeth. Lunging at her, plunging its teeth into her arm. A shriek.

Back in the blurry present, she heard Roger speak. “It’s just a friendly dog.”

Friendly? That’s what the last owner had said.

Mimi tried to open her eyes. Weren’t they already open?

She turned her head looking for Nobi. Nobi would know how to protect her.

She knew what to do and how to guard her.

It was irrational. She knew it. She knew it because she didn’t know this dog, but it made her think of the other dog.

And those words, he’s friendly , they didn’t reassure her.

Not one bit. She had heard those words before but they weren’t true. Nothing was true right now.

But her eyes watched as Roger casually stood at her side.

Surely he would protect her. He would see her fear and do something.

The dog was fast approaching, and she could feel tears yanking on her eyes, running toward her piping heart, but she couldn’t move.

Still couldn’t speak. And then the oddest thing happened, Roger laughed.

Not at her. She didn’t think. But at the dog.

It wasn’t funny. Nothing was funny about this.

Her throat was closing up, she couldn’t breathe.

“What a good pup.” Roger reached out his hand to pet the dog. The dog jumped up and Mimi shrieked. Her fists were clenched. But that was her last fully conscious thought, if that thought was even conscious. She couldn’t determine.

Blackness.

An instant passed and all she could see was blackness.

Yet despite the heaviness of her limbs, she knew she was still conscious.

Blackness in front, but blue above. She looked down to check her feet.

They were still rooted to the spot in the plush grass.

When she brought her gaze back up, she realized that someone had stepped in front of her.

Broad shoulders. A wall of protection. She was safe.

Her breath came back to her. She was in a safe place, safe from harm.

There was someone willing to step in the gap and protect her.

Someone other than her sisters or family.

It was likely the smallest gesture to anyone else, but to her and her one fear, this man was a hero.

This man, by merely standing in front of her as a wall, was making her world a better place.

Or perhaps he was taking her to another place entirely.

Another world. A place where there was peace and protection.

It had to be Roger. He had to have finally seen her terror and just stepped in front of her.

He was kind and considerate like that. She could tell.

As quiet as he was, he was the type of man to care.

Being a gentleman, he would notice the needs of others and offer solutions to problems. His original tactic had probably been to make light of the situation and calm the dog, but once he saw her agony, he had obviously changed tactics.

She was sure of it. As sure as she was about how fate had brought her to him in the first place.

And this was the first of many sparkling moments for her and this protective man in front of her.

It had to be Roger, even though she wouldn’t have noticed because the blurry present was only now starting to clear. He was her knight in shining armor. Yes, it was cliché. But she loved a good cliché. A good, strong, protective one at least.

What kind of man would he be if he didn’t catch sight of her alarm?

A gentle presence was at her side, calm but bewildered. Not quite anxious, but concerned. For her. “Mimi,” her sister asked, “are you all right?”

She turned her face to her sister, her body still too heavy to move, and she nodded.

Stunned, yet working her mind and body free from the vise-like grip fear had on her.

It was like waking up from a nightmare, the kind in which you tried to scream but couldn’t.

Her tongue felt thick and moving it took extra effort.

Finally the wall in front of her spoke, deep, authoritative. Commanding the dog to stay. And then with further instruction, Chris came into view replacing the man’s firm but kind grip on the dog.

The wall turned. She eagerly looked up, awaiting Roger’s golden eyes (they were golden, right?), anticipating the kindness of his face—

“Mimi,” Sam’s voice shook through her as though it were pounding against the drum of her heart. “Are you well?” The depth of concern in his voice confused her.

Sam?

He was the wall?

He was her protection?

He was her safe place?

God, above.

And then she really did see blackness, just after catching sight of the blue sky above.

She awoke in strong arms holding her, jostling her only slightly. “Where am I?” Her arms still felt weak, but at least her uncooperative tongue was functioning. It wasn’t so thick anymore, and despite the dryness in her throat, she could manage the short question.

“Don’t speak. Rest. I’m taking you back to the house.

” Sam spoke without even looking at her.

There was no point in arguing, though she wasn’t sure she even wanted to.

With him, it was her default to contradict him.

But here, next to him, in such a sensitive state, she didn’t trust herself to refute him yet.

She was still trying to process how she ended up on the ground.

And why was he the one consoling her? Hadn’t Roger protected her from the dog, her worst fear?

No—the memory flooded her. It had all been Sam.

The realization had caused her to swoon the first time.

She swooned? She had never swooned before. God, what was happening to her. If anything, she thought she would have fainted at the panic she felt at the sight of the dog, but afterward? It made no sense.

“I can walk,” she lifted her arms to push herself out of his arms.

“Don’t be so foolish.”

With a dramatic sigh, she relented. Overexaggerating the sigh of course.

She couldn’t let him know that she was actually relieved.

Her arms felt like lead. If she had pushed herself free of his arms, she was pretty sure she would have landed like a pile of pudding on the ground.

And really, he didn’t need to see her in a pile of dirt. Again.

She gripped the reins on the smirk dying to go wild on her face.

It wasn’t so bad being carried. Not that being carried by him in particular was satisfying.

But the way his arms fit around her body, conveying his strength and determination wasn’t a bad thing.

And though it wasn’t anything to write her sister Boudicca about, it wasn’t entirely unnoticeable how his chest rippled when he shifted her weight ever so slightly.

And the way he stared straight ahead, not giving a passing glance to any distractions meant less that he wasn’t a force to be reckoned with and more that when he wanted to get something done, he did it.

Another sigh blew past her lips.

“Do you need to stop and rest?” He stood still for a moment, awaiting her answer. And while he waited, he tilted his chin to study her eyes.

“I should be asking you that. You’re the one carrying the heavy load.”

“I’m fine. You weigh nothing.”

“Not nothing,” she replied defiantly.

He cocked a brow at her. “Really? You want to argue about that?”

“I’m just stating a fact.”

His gaze penetrated her face for a beat or two while she stared off into the clouds.

It was stupid to argue about her weight, but she wasn’t going to relent.

It was true. She didn’t weigh nothing . She had substance to her.

So yes, she did want to argue about it. For some odd reason it felt as though by arguing that incontrovertible truth she was able to cling to some semblance of reality that existed before everything turned upside down.

Sam was being nice to her? He was protecting her? That was why she swooned. Not because she was dizzy, but because the entire world had tilted on its axis and her feet hadn’t been able to keep up with the rotation. Never mind that everyone else had been able to, that was clearly beside the point.

“If you can argue about that, then I think you’re fine to head to the house.” His arms shifted and she could feel him about to put her down. Her body rejected that notion.

For a fleeting moment insanity took over (or really, just her flare for the dramatics), and she rattled out a heavy sigh.

“I…uh…don’t know if I’m quite ready for that far of a walk.

” His dubious stare made her uncomfortable to the point that she added, “Of course, I could do it. Just…erm…slowly.” Her chest constricted, awaiting his reply.

She would have liked to shoo off the elephant that had plopped down right there on her bodice, for at that exact moment, her corset needed to be loosened not tightened.

“It’s fine. I’ll carry you.”

And as she let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she thought she saw a small smirk line the corner of his mouth while he stepped forward.