Chapter 14 #2
Domenico's body jerks violently. His shoulders tense as he stumbles half a step backward, a sharp hiss tearing from him. His hand instantly clamps over his upper arm. Red blooms beneath his fingers.
The realization spreads through the crowd almost instantly. Someone screams. Another person shouts. Panic erupts across the clearing.
People begin moving in every direction at once as confusion overtakes the gathering. Several guests stumble backward while others rush toward the platform. Voices overlap in frantic bursts of concern.
"Lucien!"
"What happened?"
"Get a doctor!"
"Move!"
Darragh is already running before anyone else fully understands what has occurred. The entire scene dissolves into chaos. Yet through all of it, Domenico remains standing. He ignores the guests reaching for him. Ignores the questions and the blood soaking through his jacket.
Instead, he looks directly at me. Even from across the clearing, I feel the force of his stare. His dark eyes lock onto mine with terrifying precision.
For one brief second, neither of us looks away. And in that second, he sees it. The satisfaction. The tiny flicker of triumph I failed to hide quickly enough. His expression changes immediately. Not anger or surprise. But recognition. The bastard knows exactly what I did.
I wipe the smile from my face so quickly it may never have existed. The rifle slips from my hands and lands in the grass as I force panic into every feature.
Then I run. "Oh my God!" My voice rings across the clearing as I push through the crowd. "Mon Dieu, Lucien, je suis vraiment désolée!" My God, Lucien, I’m really sorry!
People immediately step aside, allowing me through.
By the time I reach him, I have completely transformed into the role everyone expects me to play. The horrified fiancée. The devastated woman who has just made a terrible mistake.
My hands immediately reach for him.
"I didn't mean to." I exclaim, allowing my voice to tremble. "The recoil threw me off balance. I lost control of the rifle. I swear I didn't mean to."
Without waiting for permission, I grab the side of my skirt and tear off a long strip of fabric. Several guests gasp at the sight, but I ignore them completely as I wrap the material around his arm and apply pressure to the wound.
Domenico looks down at me. The pressure of his hand against the injury has already slowed the bleeding, but blood still stains the sleeve of his expensive jacket.
His jaw tightens. His eyes narrow. And for a brief moment, I genuinely wonder whether he is about to expose me in front of everyone.
Instead, he leans down slightly. Just enough that only I can hear him. "You shot me, woman."
I continue adjusting the makeshift bandage without looking up. "I can't possibly be the first woman who's shot you."
For a second, silence hangs between us. Then the corner of his mouth twitches. The bastard is amused. Actually amused.
My eye twitches.
Darragh finally reaches us and crouches beside Domenico. "Jesus Christ, Lucien."
"It is fine."
"It is bleeding everywhere."
"It looks worse than it is."
Darragh clearly doesn't believe him. Neither does anyone else. I remain at Domenico's side, maintaining my performance perfectly.
"I'm so sorry." I repeat quietly.
His gaze drops to mine. There is enough warning in that look to last a lifetime. Then he turns toward Darragh.
"Vivienne is perfectly capable in many areas." He says evenly. "Firearms simply aren't one of them."
Several nearby guests laugh nervously. My jaw clenches.
Of course. Even after being shot, he still manages to insult me. The urge to shoot him properly next time becomes alarmingly tempting.
"We need to get you inside." I say through gritted teeth disguised as concern.
Domenico's eyes flicker with amusement. Before either of us can say anything else, Roisin appears beside us. Unlike everyone else, she does not look panicked. She looks thoughtful.
Her gaze moves from Domenico's wound to my face and then back again. I suddenly become very aware that Roisin is far more intelligent than most people realize.
"I'll take them back to the house." She says calmly. The statement immediately cuts through the chaos. "There is no reason for everyone to crowd around him. The rest of you should continue the hunt."
Darragh still looks uneasy. His attention remains fixed on the blood. "Maybe the estate doctor can take a look"
"No." Domenico's answer is immediate. "It’s just a graze."
"It doesn't look like a graze."
"It is." The firmness in his voice leaves little room for argument.
Darragh reluctantly nods. "Fine. But if it gets worse, you're seeing the doctor."
Domenico offers a dismissive wave with his uninjured arm. Then, before anyone can continue the discussion, he starts walking toward the manor. I fall into step beside him. And Roisin follows.
And the moment we are finally out of sight of the guests, I become painfully aware of one unavoidable fact. Sooner or later, Domenico and I are going to be alone. And when that happens, I am going to have to explain why I deliberately shot him.
The walk back to the manor is far quieter than the hunting grounds.
Blood continues to seep through Domenico's sleeve, staining the fabric of his jacket, yet he walks beside us with the same steady composure he seems to bring into every situation.
If the wound is bothering him, he gives no indication of it.
Roisin stays on his opposite side while I match his pace, and together we cross the estate grounds beneath a sky that has begun to brighten with the afternoon sun.
The moment we step through the grand entrance, the noise of the hunt disappears behind us. The manor feels strangely peaceful compared to the chaos we left outside.
"Sit down before you decide to bleed all over Fergus's floors." Roisin says firmly.
Domenico raises an eyebrow."Concern suits you."
For a brief moment, annoyance flickers across her face, before the expression disappears behind practiced irritation. She avoids looking at him as she heads toward the large cabinet positioned against one of the walls.
Domenico lowers himself onto the leather couch nearby and immediately begins removing his jacket.
He reaches for the strip of fabric I tore from my skirt and unwinds it from around his arm, setting the bloodstained material aside.
The makeshift bandage has done its job for now, but the wound beneath is still angry and raw.
Then he begins unbuttoning his shirt. The blood has soaked through the sleeve and stained part of the white fabric beneath. One button after another comes undone before he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders and tosses it aside.
I remain standing a few feet away, trying very hard not to think about the last time I accidentally saw him shirtless.
The injury becomes visible immediately. The bullet only clipped him. A deep graze tears across the outside of his upper arm, angry and red, but nowhere near life-threatening. It could have been much worse.
Roisin returns carrying a medical kit and kneels beside him.
"I need water." I say.
Neither of them questions it.
"There's probably some in the kitchen."
I nod and leave before either of them can say anything else.
The second I step into the corridor, my pace slows. The opportunity presents itself too perfectly to ignore. Everyone important is outside. Roisin is occupied too. And for the first time since arriving, nobody is paying attention to me.
The manor stretches endlessly in every direction, a maze of corridors, staircases, and private rooms hidden behind polished oak doors. I move through the halls quietly, checking each room as I go. Most reveal nothing useful. Guest suites. Sitting rooms. Storage spaces.
Then I find something different. The room feels occupied even though nobody is inside. Masculine. Organized. And important.
A large desk dominates one corner, covered with carefully arranged papers and ledgers. Family photographs sit on nearby shelves. Expensive suits hang inside partially opened wardrobes. Fergus’ room.
My pulse quickens slightly as I step fully inside. The documents on the desk prove disappointing. Estate finances. Property records. Nothing useful.
Then I notice the closet. Something about it draws my attention immediately. I move between rows of clothing until a faint metallic reflection catches my eye. A digital safe. Hidden behind several heavy coats.
Interest immediately sharpens into excitement. I step closer. Unfortunately, I never reach it.