Maddie’s eyes, stark with fear, begged him to be careful.
“Untie her,” Hart ordered, his voice an angry growl. “Do it fast, if you don’t wish to see your brains splattered over the sofa.”
Buchanan slowly rose. “I have two men outside, Montford, and several more on the way here.”
They heard the rush of footsteps on the drive and panicked breathing. A scuffle, then silence.
“There’s no way you can escape,” Buchanan said. “Charlie! Tom!” he yelled. “My men are coming. You can’t kill us all.”
“I’m afraid you’ve misplaced those who do your dirty work, Buchanan. You are on your own.” He glanced at the door. Where in God’s name was Boyle?
As Buchanan untied Maddie’s hands, he pulled a knife from inside his coat and shoved her in front of him, pressing the blade against her throat. “I’m walking out of here. If you want her ladyship to live, you won’t stop me.” His hideous whisper struck fear through Hart as he watched him walk backwards toward the door, using Maddie as a shield.
Hart’s heart almost stopped beating as Hart watched Maddie, her eyes desperate, edge closer to the door. Where was Boyle? Hart wondered who survived that fight. If it was Boyle, why wasn’t he here? Ice threaded through Hart’s veins. He had to stop Buchanan from taking Maddie outside.
Buchanan stood by the door. “Drop your gun, Montford. I won’t hesitate to kill your wife if you cross me.”
He was a tall man. Maddie’s head barely came up to his chin. Hart had only one chance. Steadying his hand with a deep breath, Hart raised the gun and fired.
Buchanan’s knife slid away over the carpet as he crumpled to the ground, shot through the forehead.
“Hart!” Maddie rushed into his arms. She collapsed against him, clinging to his coat. “I knew you would come. It was the one thing that kept me from breaking down.”
“He can’t hurt us anymore, Maddie.” He eased her away and gazed into her face. “Are you all right? Stay here. I must go out and see what’s happened to Boyle.”
“No. I’m not leaving you.”
“Keep behind me.”
The man Buchanan called Charlie lay on the ground outside the house. He was dead, a knife in his chest. Boyle lay slumped half under him.
Hart ran over to them. He rolled Charlie’s body off Boyle and knelt down. The runner was unconscious, but Hart could find no evidence of a wound. He shook him. “Boyle!”
Boyle opened his eyes and his bleary expression cleared. “Milord?”
Hart helped him sit up. “What happened?”
Boyle gave a weak chuckle and rubbed his head. “As he fell, he pulled me down with him. I must have hit my head on the step.”
Rubbing his head, Boyle climbed to his feet.
“Maddie,” Hart said, “I’d like you to meet Mr. Boyle. The first-rate Bow Street Runner I engaged.”
Maddie held out her hand. “I am glad you were here, Mr. Boyle.”
Boyle shook it. “I’m mighty pleased to find you unharmed, Lady Montford.”
“Buchanan is dead,” Hart said. Oddly, he felt no remorse at taking a life. Not after the man threatened Maddie. “We’ll have to advise the magistrate in Seven Oaks before we return to London.”
When Boyle went to retrieve their horses, Hart turned to Maddie and pulled her into his arms. His hand on the back of her head, he murmured, “My love. I couldn’t have borne it if I’d lost you.” With a moan, he crushed his lips to hers.
Maddie threw her arms around him, and for several minutes, they kissed as if they couldn’t bear to part.
“I love you, Hart,” she said. When they finally drew apart, her eyes filled with tears.
“I adore you, Maddie. You are my life.”
Hart hugged her to his side as they walked to the stables to find a mount and a suitable saddle for her. “I’d give anything for you not to have gone through that.”