Storing Up Trouble, стр. 5
“Perhaps you should consider getting off the horse so you’ll have a better vantage point.”
“But then I’d have to climb back on. I really don’t think I’m up for that type of trauma again today.”
“Get off the horse.”
Norman’s blue eyes narrowed. “Does your husband allow you to get away with speaking to him in such a demanding fashion?”
“I’m not married.”
“Which explains much,” he returned right before he began shifting around on the horse, all but tumbling to the ground a second later. Rising to his feet, he wobbled as if his legs were having a time of it holding him upright.
“What did you mean by that?” Beatrix asked, turning her horse around to face him.
Norman stopped his wobbling. “Mean by what?”
“I believe you said ‘Which explains much’ after I told you I wasn’t married.”
“At the risk of being accused of additional rudeness, I don’t think it would be in my best interest to answer that.”
Beatrix’s lips thinned. “If you’ve forgotten, I still have possession of my pistol purse, and it’s a five shot, which means I still have a few left.”
To her annoyance, Norman smiled. “Because you’re a woman, I doubt you have the stomach to shoot an unarmed man.”
“My stomach has never given me difficulties.”
Norman’s smile faded. “How disconcerting.”
“I imagine it is, and with that settled, what did you mean?”
“You’re very tenacious—which is not a compliment, if you’re wondering—and that also lends credence to the conclusions I’d made about you and your unwedded state.”
Regret over encouraging Norman to explain his statement was immediate, but before she could figure out how to get him to stop, he opened his mouth again.
“Even with your evident problem with a tenacious nature, the main reasons I wasn’t surprised to learn you’re unmarried are this—you’re well past the first blush of youth, and you’re also traveling on your own. Those two circumstances already suggested you’re a confirmed spinster. I’ve now concluded that your spinster state was undoubtedly brought about because you’re an opinionated and impulsive woman, traits that gentlemen find less than appealing in a woman they might be considering marrying.”
“It would have been in your best interest to refuse to answer my question because you’ve just proven without a doubt that you are the rudest man I’ve ever met.”
“Exactly why you shouldn’t have pressed me for a response,” he said calmly before he turned and began moving to the stream, stumbling over a tree branch a second later.
Unfortunately, he then knocked into his horse, which then jolted forward into Beatrix’s horse right as she was beginning to dismount from it.
Losing her balance, she landed on the leaf-strewn ground in a heap of billowing fabric, the pistol purse she’d stowed on her lap for easy access landing with a clunk on the ground a foot away from her. To her utmost horror, a gunshot split the air, and then Norman was flying off his feet, dropping like a stone to the forest floor in the blink of an eye.
Chapter 3
Of anything Mr. Norman Nesbit had been expecting on his journey back to Chicago, being shot—and by a woman no less—hadn’t crossed his mind, one that many people said was one of the most remarkable minds of the day.
He was a man known for presenting the world with a detached and, some might say, emotionless demeanor. However, as he lay on the ground, most likely bleeding to death, he couldn’t deny he was feeling less along the lines of detached and more along the lines of aggravated.
It was beyond curious how it had come about that he’d been thrust into the company of Miss Beatrix Waterbury, a progressive woman if there ever was one, and the type of woman he normally avoided like the plague. He never willingly stayed in the company of women who were incapable of taking sound advice, such as putting away her pistol to protect the innocent, advice Beatrix evidently didn’t believe was sound, even though she’d actually shot him, which proved his advice had been very sound indeed.
Sucking in a breath of much-needed air, which had his chest burning in protest, he released it right as Beatrix materialized above him, her lovely green eyes, something he only just noticed, filled with what seemed to be genuine concern.
Before he could dwell further on that thought, another thought chased it straight away, one that questioned why he was wasting precious time noticing that Beatrix’s eyes were lovely. It was hardly the moment to ponder such nonsensical matters and certainly suggested he might have suffered a blow to the head because it was very unlike him to become distracted by lovely eyes in the first place.
“Lie perfectly still while I see if I can locate where the bullet struck you,” Beatrix said, interrupting his disconcerting thoughts as she began patting him down, her hands starting at his face, which clearly didn’t have a hole in it, and moving downward.
“Stop that,” he muttered around a hand that was now covering his mouth.
“Don’t argue with me. I’m trying to do a thorough assessment, and you’re disturbing my concentration.”
Before he could muster up an argument, Beatrix ripped open his jacket, popping off buttons in the process. Why she’d chosen such a dramatic manner to open his jacket was curious since it wouldn’t have taken that much longer to simply unbutton it. However, since she was now thumping her hand against his chest, the thumping setting his teeth on edge, he found himself lacking any incentive to question her methods.
Her thumping abruptly stopped. “Why does your chest seem unusually firm, and why is it giving off an odd pealing sound?”
Norman peered through untidy hair that was almost obscuring his view. “I’m wearing plates of steel under my vest that one of my fellow scientists gave me. He’s a metallurgist and is working with different metals, hoping to create a stronger product. He gave me a