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“I have never used her to my advantage. And you were snooping around my house, walking along the corridor by the room where my wife slept. You’re not going to get away with this,” he warned. His voice took on a vicious growl when he talked about his wife.

Ian could understand the savage protectiveness toward the woman he loved. Admired it even. He felt the same way toward Helen.

“Fine. I shall willingly come with you if you promise not to harm Helen.”

Helen threw a panicked glance his way. Ian gave her a quick wink and a smile, wanting her to feel secure.

There were only two ways out of this predicament. He felt, more than saw, a person hiding between the branches of the tree. An archer, probably. Gauging the best angle to shoot at him.

And since Helen stood very close to him, that shooter might accidentally hit Helen instead. Ian couldn’t let that happen.

He was confident that the viscount wouldn’t risk his cousin-in-law getting hurt. But he couldn’t say the same about the person hiding in the tree.

He needed to get Helen as far away from him as he could, and then he could make a run for it.

The second way out of this blight didn’t even warrant thinking out loud. But the thought registered nonetheless. It would be to grab Helen by her waist, haul her in front of him, and press a knife to her throat. If she covered his body with hers, nobody would risk shooting either of them. Then they would both run away, and he could keep her with him forever.

A sinister thought if he’d ever had one.

And if it were anyone else, perhaps he would have used this option.

But not his Helen. He could never risk her life. He could never put her into a position that would take her choice away from her. And he could never threaten her. Not even to save their lives.

So it left only option number one.

The viscount nodded slowly. “Helen, step toward me.”

Helen looked at her cousin and then back at Ian in alarm. She understood—he could see it in her eyes—that the moment she stepped away from Ian, he would be shot.

He would get away. This wasn’t the first time he’d evaded a shootout, but she didn’t know that.

He could see her horse grazing the grass on the other side of the fence. He would jump the fence, saddle the horse and ride far, far away.

He would probably never see her again.

His heart twinged at the thought.

But she would be safe.

He gently nudged the small of her back. “Go on, Helen.”

Instead of moving forward, Helen dug in her heels. Her breathing grew frantic as she looked away. Ian ducked his head to see what was wrong. “Helen?”

She shook her head, then took a deep breath and stepped in front of Ian, taking his arm and weaving it around her waist. “I won’t leave,” she said loudly. “And if you want to shoot Ian, you’ll have to shoot me, too.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Ian placed his hand just below her chin to turn her face toward him. His fingers weaved around her neck, and he could feel her frantic pulse. She was frightened.

“I won’t leave you to die, Ian,” she whispered, her breaths coming in huge gulps. “I can’t.”

Something was happening to her. Ian could see the panic in her eyes. Her heart was racing, and she grew paler and paler with every moment.

Ian threw a quick glance at his opponent. St. John had lowered his gun and raised a hand to indicate for the shooter not to attack either. A worry was lining his features.

Helen’s breaths didn’t slow. Her heart was racing faster and faster by the moment. If he didn’t do something, she would faint. He could feel it.

Ian cursed under his breath then picked her up onto his arms, and with a quick glance toward the viscount dashed toward the exit.

He didn’t know if they would risk shooting him as he carried Helen in his arms.