He still wasn’t moving, his eyes were closed, and what looked like blood seeped from a nasty gash on his head. “My lord?” She shook his arm. “Ian? We need to get away from here. I think someone is shooting at us.” His eyelids flickered, and she took a hurried moment to look around. At least there was no sign of anyone clambering down the cliff toward them. “Pistol . . . in my pocket.” She barely made out the words, but immediately started looking through the earl’s capacious pockets and discovered a very fine dueling pistol along with extra shot and a flint. She also found his handkerchief and after making sure that the pistol was safe, dabbed at the blood streaming from the earl’s head. “Don’t worry. It’s just a graze,” he murmured. “Head wounds always bleed like the devil.” “Do you think you can stand yet?” “I’m sure I can if you help me.” He sounded more confident than she felt. He wasn’t a small man. If he lost consciousness he would probably take her down with him again and she hadn’t enjoyed the first experience of being crushed under him.
