FREE! In The Arms of My Enemy (Completed!) Book 1

Girl with a Gun

The hair on the back of Fidelia's neck stood up, and a tingle raced down her spine. She heard a rustling noise, then the squeak of a trunk hinge opening. A drawer opened and closed. Someone was in her room. And they were looking for something. Who­ever it was, they were certainly not William; she had become as familiar with the sound of his footsteps as she was with Lottie's.

The stranger's footsteps drew closer. Fidelia reached into the pocket of her skirts and gripped the handle of her father's gun. He had spent hours teaching her how to shoot so that she would never be defenseless, and those lessons came easily to her mind as she sat up slowly, aiming the gun through the darkness. The curtains were thrown open, and light blinded her.

***
William paced the length of the breakfast room, one finger pressed against his lips as his thoughts raced. He had fled their bedroom that morning before he could make a fatal mistake. Had he truly been about to confess—?

"William, my darling boy, what are you doing up so early?" The countess's voice from behind startled him, making William spin around.

"Mother." William forced a smile and kissed his mother's cheek.

She smiled brightly up at him and patted his arm. "Come, join me for breakfast."

"Should we wait for the others?" William asked as he followed her to the table. The countess rang for the maid to bring in breakfast.

"Your father prefers to skip breakfast. It inflames his gout, the poor, dear man," she said fondly as William pulled out the chair for her and she sat delicately.

"Yes, I remember, but what about Fidelia and Miss Lottie?" William looked toward the door, eager for a glimpse of his wife. Images of her from the night before, the way she looked as he carried her to bed, clouded his thoughts.

His mother's lips turned down in a pretty pout at the mention of Fi­delia's name. "Truly, William, how did she trick you into this marriage?"

"Mother," William said firmly, leaning forward to garner her full attention again. "Please do not blame her for this. Fidelia is . . . This was not her idea, I assure you, and she did nothing to trick me into marrying her! She is . . ."

"She is most unsuitable." The countess launched to her feet to pace furiously. "She cannot even pour a proper cup of tea! You attempted to cover for her yesterday—do not try to deny it. What sort of woman would humiliate her husband by making him serve the tea?"

"Fidelia did not make me do anything, Mother. I truly wished to serve her out of the affection I hold for her in my heart." William sighed, leaning an elbow on the table, chin in his cupped hand. He couldn't bring himself to say that he did it because he lo—

"But what shall we do about her? This is a disaster! What will hap­pen when our neighbors come calling? You sit in the House of Lords, you hold a position of respect, but that-that creature will embarrass this family."

She was right, he thought with an inward groan. As a lord, he was expected to help oversee new bills and aid in the government's func­tion. The public expected him and his family to be perfect examples of the proper British subject. Fidelia would only draw unwanted atten­tion, perhaps even from the French. All would be for naught if they found her and Lottie again.

"Then you shall teach her." William stood and stopped his mother, placing calming hands on her shoulders. He had forgotten how upset she could become when she set her mind to it. "Please, Mother . . . she needs a guiding hand."

"That, my son, is an understatement," the countess sighed, rubbing her brow. "She will need training on tea, the popular dances of the ton, eating properly, fashionable dress—I shall not even begin to describe that horridly filthy gown she wore yesterday—!"

William bristled at the insults to Fidelia's gown. She hadn't had a choice in that matter; she had fled her home without anything but the clothes on her back to save her sister—but he couldn't explain that to the countess. Telling her would only raise her suspicions of the nature of their marriage. It was imperative that she believed they were in love, or it would only draw attention. "Mother, she has many talents and good qualities, if only you would try and see them."

"She has many qualities, but none of them are good." The countess scoffed. "She has that awful, unruly hair, those freckles, and she has—"

The crack of a gunshot echoed through the walls.

"She has a gun!" A maid's scream shattered the air, followed by foot­steps pounding down the stairs. A maid burst into the room, her cap askew; her round hips knocked over chairs as she raced past them. The door rebounded against the wall, swinging closed in her wake. More footsteps echoed on the stairs.

Seconds later, Fidelia threw open the door to the breakfast room, gun in hand. It was as if a fox had burst into a chicken coup and feath­ers were flying around. The countess screamed and ducked behind a chair, scattering the pins from her hair, her gray-brown locks flying in all directions. Dishes tumbled off the table and shattered on the floor as the maid ran amok like a beheaded chicken. Face flushed with fury, Fidelia laid eyes on the poor maid.

"Fidelia!" William shouted, lunging to intercept his wife as she charged into the room. He attempted to disarm her as he had done on the boat, but she had learned from the first time—she spun away from him. "What on earth are you doing?"

"That woman was sneaking through my room to steal from me, and then she tried to attack me!" Fidelia shouted, waving the gun to­ward the maid, who was cowering on the other side of the table.

"She's your maid, Fidelia!" William stood between them, hands out to calm Fidelia. He wasn't afraid; he doubted she had reloaded. "She was going through your things to set out your clothes, and then she was probably trying to wake you for your toiletry routine."

"Not that you had anything to set out or steal!" the maid said, her voice catching in fear.

Chest heaving, Fidelia glared at William and then the maid, who con­tinued to blubber. Slowly, the fire in Fidelia's eyes faded. She blanched. "My . . . maid?" she said. Her arm lowered slowly until she dropped the gun to the floor.

"She almost killed me!" the maid squawked.

"I . . . I didn't . . . realize. . . ." Fidelia shook her head.

With a sigh, the countess stood, straightening her hair. "Oh my, William. She is going to need much improvement. This is going to take a miracle."

***

Hey Guys!! What do you guys think of William and Fidelia's relationship?  Also, that mother in law, though...

If you like the chapters so far, please vote and comment!  It's meant so much to me and has really inspired me to keep writing! You guys rock!!