Page 92 of The Unfortunate Debutante
She raised the branch up to hit him again, and he put his hands in front of him to protect himself.
“Emma, it’s me. It’s Simeon,” he called out, mindful to keep his voice low.
“Simeon?” she asked, lowering the branch to her side. “How are you here?”
He grimaced as he rubbed his sore shoulder. “It was quite simple, although I was forced to take out a few guards.”
“By yourself?”
“No, I had a little help,” he admitted, rising from the ground and dusting himself off. “Benedict, Jonathon, Adrien, and Larson are with me.”
Her eyes grew determined. “What’s the plan?”
“Good girl.” He was secretly pleased that Emma was not acting like a simpering miss. “We are going to run to safety.”
She dropped the tree branch and closed the distance between them. “I’m sorry I hit you,” she said, reaching out to touch his throbbing shoulder.
“I barely felt it,” he lied, his voice surprisingly hoarse as he remained close.
She grinned. “Liar.”
Simeon was rooted in place. Being this close to Emma was intoxicating. He could smell the rosewater in her hair and saw a patch of light freckles on the bridge of her nose. Unable to resist, he brought his hands up to gently rest on her arms, his eyes eagerly roaming her face.
“You are so beautiful, Emma,” he murmured without thinking.
A blush came to her cheeks as she diverted her gaze from his.
A clearing of a throat came from behind him. “Do Bow Street Runners normally flirt with the people they are attempting to rescue at the most inopportune time?” Adrien asked.
Simeon chuckled. “Point taken.” He smiled down at Emma. “Perhaps I could flirt with you at a more appropriate time?”
“I would like that very much.”
As he reached for her hand, he heard a gunshot echoing through the trees near the cottage. Blast it! Benedict or Jonathon gave away their position. He knew he needed to act quickly. They started sprinting through the trees towards the coach.
He heard men shouting behind them as they continued to weave in and around trees. They needed a distraction. He stopped, released her hand, and retrieved his pistol in one synchronized move.
“Go,” he urged, “run to safety. I will stop them from following us.”
“No, I won’t go without you,” she objected, grabbing his hand.
He attempted to release her hand, but she held firm. “I need you to be safe, Emma. Trust me.”
A look of indecision crossed her face before she dropped his hand and started backing up. Unfortunately, the sound of cocking pistols stopped her. He reluctantly turned around to see Lockhart and a mercenary standing next to him, both holding pistols directed at him.
“Emma, you weren’t planning to leave, now were you?” Lockhart asked dryly.
“I have every intention of running far away from you,” Emma declared boldly.
Lockhart waved the gun in front of him. “Then I’m afraid I will have to kill your would-be rescuer.”
“No, stop!” Emma exclaimed, taking a step closer to him.
Simeon stepped in front of her, his hand tightening around the pistol at his side. “Just go, Emma. Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s utter nonsense!” she declared. “I refuse to let anyone else die for me.”
“You were always too tenderhearted for your own good.” Lockhart gave him a pointed look. “Kindly drop your weapon on the ground.”
