"My own sex, I hope, will excuse me, if I treat them like rational creatures, instead of flattering their fascinating graces, and viewing them as if they were in a state of perpetual childhood, unable to stand alone."

-

"You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all."

-

Dalting glanced beside him with surprised admiration as Leia kept up with his pace. Granted, it wasn't as rigorous as if he were alone, but it was fast enough to leave others panting. Leia seemed to be keeping up without any disturbance.

Dalting forced himself to be content with their speed, knowing that his men would be halfway to the docks by now. The expanse from the warehouses to the docks was quite wide and Dalting feared that they would not make it in time.

From what Leia had gleaned from the hushed conversation between Ashwin – Dalting always knew the young lord was too pretty for his own good – and Utteridge, who Dalting knew was Beckham, revealed that they would draw Hadrian out to the docks to get rid of the duke.

After intensely questioning everything she heard, he found that Leia did not know what would transpire after that.

Feeling uneasy, Dalting sped up a little faster.

"We must hurry, we do not know how long it might take for Hadrian to arrive, nor how quickly Beckham takes to execute Lord Vale."

"By all means, my lord, lengthen your stride. I am not complaining. Just because our genitals differ does not mean that we are not equal," Leia snapped.

Dalting raised a brow. "I am more than sure you would not be able to continue on with my rigorous pace. Be grateful that I am slowing this much for you."

Leia gave an unladylike snort, and Dalting was sure he heard her mutter, "Damned buffoon . . . I'll show him . . . rigorous pace, my great petunia . . . dandy prat . . ."

Dalting couldn't hold in his chuckle. "Quite a mouth you've got on you, lass."

"Oh shut-"

Dalting's eyes shot forward as he heard an angry shout. Leia met his gaze and they both raced forward. Dalting cursed himself silently, he had gotten distracted.

Damned woman.

As they neared the docks, Dalting spotted his men and watched as Abbott approached him. Dalting didn't have to say anything except give his man a look.

"He's got a gun on her." Abbott reported. Dalting cursed.

Though he had engaged in many missions with these men, Dalting knew just how bad matters could turn out when emotions played a part. Hadrian cared deeply for his wife. Would do anything for her. He would expect Dalting, as Hadrian's close friend, to have the same feelings regarding his wife.

"Stay close. Out of sight." Dalting clipped out. "McConnell."

A large, burly figure, of obvious Scottish origins meandered over and came to stand in front of Dalting.

"You stay with her, don't let her go anywhere. Understood?"

McConnell nodded. Dalting watched as Leia's mouth opened, but he stalked off before she could say anything.

He followed the other seven of him men as they closed in on the group of three. Dalting spotted movement in the corner of his eye, a flurry of skirts.

He raised two fingers, gesturing to the movement he spotted. He didn't even have to look to see two men leave the group and follow whoever was moving nearby.

Dalting and his men were close enough to pick up on the groups conversation, and Dalting blocked out his surprise. Hadrian and Beckham stood in front of each other, Beckham's hand was outstretched, pointing a gun in Rhea's direction, while Ashwin held her still.

He and Abbott locked eyes and Abbott nodded. Abbott crept towards Ashwin and Rhea, their backs facing him. He stopped only a few feet away and waited for Dalting. The other four members waited slightly farther from Hadrian and Beckham, also waiting for Dalting's cue.

Just as Dalting gestured to them a gunshot sounded.

Hadrian watched in horror as Beckham, who he now knew as his half-brother, shoot his wife. He found himself roaring, lunging for the gun in Beckham's hand, even though he knew he was too late. Both of them fell to the ground, Beckham grunting as his back impacted the cold, hard deck.

Hadrian felt a rush of hot, molten fury sweep through his body and began to take his anger out on the man in front of him. All of his frustration and anger was unloaded with each punch and solid blow landed on Beckham's struggling form.

Vaguely, he heard a commotion take place somewhere around them, but Hadrian was beyond focusing on anything other than the man in front of him.

His vision went red and a spark of adrenaline coursed through his veins, giving him the perfect blend of power to seriously injure the other man.

Beckham fought back, though, unwilling to give up his pursuit of ending Hadrian once and for all. Beckham managed to land a blow to Hadrian's jaw and stomach, knocking the air right out of him, giving his opponent time to disentangle himself from Hadrian and rise.

"You, you will watch as she suffers and dies," Beckham laughed cruelly. He now had his gun trained on Hadrian, eyeing him as if he were prey. "Just as I had to watch my mother."

"Beckham. John." Hadrian coughed out, perusing his enemy. Hadrian knew what Beckham was feeling; he wanted to reason with the man, but even Hadrian knew Beckham was beyond hope. There was naught he could do, except for one thing.

Beckham smiled at him again, shrugging. "It is sad that she had to end up this way, I admit. I admired her for her faith in you, however misplaced it was. But, in the end, she was a means to an end, and-"

"You bastard!"

Beckham started to turn, but he was too late to catch himself as Ashwin charged behind Beckham, taking him to the ground once more. Hadrian leapt at the gun that had gotten knocked away from Ashwin's surprise attack.

Hadrian had forgotten the twit. It seemed as if Beckham had too, to his mistake.

He watched as Beckham easily overpowered the younger man, and when Beckham began to rise, Hadrian shot, clean and clear, at him.

Hadrian stared as the man, slowly, achingly, turned, facing him in disbelief, and then fell over with a heavy thump.

"Hadrian!"

Hadrian vaguely heard his name being called, but couldn't find it in himself to respond.

"Hadrian!" Hadrian turned and watched as Dalting, and eight other men, dressed in clothing the color of midnight, entered the area near the docks. Dalting had been sprinting. He turned his head to the side and Hadrian watched as Dalting gave a terse order to a darker haired man, and then came slowly upon him.

Dalting casted a glance at Beckham's still form lay on the woodened deck, his blood slowly seeping out of him, and his body become chilling cold.

Suddenly, Hadrian remembered.

Not wasting any more time on the now dead man, Hadrian rushed over to his wife, who was merely a few feet away and dropped to her side.

"Rhea? Rhea?! Dammit, love, open your eyes," Hadrian pleaded. He gently lifted her in his arms and stood. Turning, he saw Dalting's eyes widen and stare at the body in his arms.

"Hadrian-"

"Get me a damned doctor." Hadrian growled, his eyes daring Dalting to do anything else. Dalting gave a quick nod and gestured for Hadrian to proceed to the carriage.

Hadrian shook his head, "No, we ride upon my horse. He'll get us there faster."

"Hadrian, we do not know where the bullet went through, or if it even exited her flesh. We don't want to jostle her. I know you want the doctor. I've sent one of my men to meet us at your manor."

Hadrian hesitated, but a slight shift and a soft, pain-filled groan made up his mind and he nodded reluctantly. His heart thudded rapidly in his chest, knowing that, as of this moment, his wife was alive. Alive.

He'd be damned if he rushed his wife to her demise. Damned.

"Don't you dare give up, Rhea. Do you understand? I forbid it."

Rhea shifted again and another groan came forth. Hadrian felt his heart stop when she stilled, and then let out another relieved breath when her chest moved again.

"Be still, I do not wish to cause you any more pain."

Rhea's eyes fluttered, her half shut eyes met his and he watched as she opened her mouth, "Hadrian? I . . ."

He shushed her, "Hush, love, we shall be home soon. You will feel better soon. I vow it."

Rhea gave him a smile out of the corner of her mouth and then she went limp.

Pain. Agonizing, endless pain. It flooded her body, starting from her chest, and then spreading outwards to her head and lower body.

She ached to claw at her chest, at the burning sensation that seemed to be getting worse, but her arms were too heavy and she could barely open her eyes.

She had the elusive feeling of being lifted and then she heard her husband's voice, echoing around her. She remembered Beckham facing him, with a gun in his hand, and her heart stopped.

Where was Hadrian? Was he alright?

Rhea tried to open her eyes but she felt too sluggish, her body seeming to represent a liquid state. But she was resilient, she had to know if Hadrian was ok, if he was hurt, or whatever the case may be.

She finally managed to get them open, well half shut 'open', and met her husband's eyes. She breathed out a shaky sigh, taking comfort in the fact that he was ok. That he was uninjured, from what she could see.

She opened her mouth, calling out his name, wanting to get his reassurance that he was ok, that everything was alright, but the pain became too unbearable and she felt herself slowly fading into darkness.

Hadrian clutched his wife's warm hand, glad that it was no longer cold, as it had been several hours ago. When he had felt her go limp in his arms, he was terrified that he had been too late, that she had been lost to him forever.

That he didn't get to tell her how he felt about her.

Now, he reveled in her beauty as she slept peacefully and his relief became almost unbearable. Though it had been hours, almost a full day, now, since she'd last awaken, the doctor, James Humphrey – who had cared for her when she'd been pushed in front of a carriage – assured him that she would recover well.

The bullet, Hadrian had discovered, had lodged itself in her shoulder, away from her heart. Hadrian had remembered panicking because of the amount of blood Rhea had bled. But, according to Doctor Humphrey, the gunshot wound was too far from her heart and any major parts to have caused a major injury that would result in death.

Hadrian had been so relieved to hear that she would be alright that he nearly cried. And then Doctor Humphrey said something else.

"The babe seems to also be fine. I've detected much more movement than from last time. I deduce that this is likely because of the adventurous activities of Lady Vale. I see this as a way of the babe protesting so much excitement, and from what I-"

"Babe? Rhea is with child?" Hadrian echoed. When Doctor Humphrey confirmed, Hadrian felt the tears resurrect, both in happiness and despair.

Doctor Humphrey, caught unawares by his reaction, repeatedly tried to reassure the duke that Rhea and the babe would be fine, even healthy, in a few weeks. Hadrian had finally calmed down and dismissed the doctor, promising to call for him should Rhea change.

Now, hours later, Hadrian gazed at Rhea, unsure of what to do. He felt an immense amount of happiness, possessiveness, and even pride. At the same time, he was also terrified, angry, and filled with self-doubt.

Rhea had nearly gotten killed; murdered. Not just once, but twice, hell, perhaps even three times! All because of him. All because of his past, because of his name, and because of who he was son to.

How was he to be sure that she would not be put in danger again? That he did not have any more enemies that awaited a chance to destroy him, like Beckham almost had? Could he possibly take that chance? Take a chance with Rhea's life, with his babe's?

No! Hadrian vowed vehemently. He would not allow another to take a chance to hurt Rhea. He would not allow himself to do so no longer, either. He had caused hurt to Rhea far too much.

No longer.

He could not just think about himself and Rhea. Now, he had to think about their child. He would never, at least, not knowingly, put either of them in jeopardy.

Hadrian's heart ached and mourned for what he would lose. The decision he had to make had to be followed through in actions, not just with his thoughts.

Hadrian tightened his grip of Rhea's hand as she shifted in their bedstead and sighed softly. He slowly arose and leaned down to kiss her lips gently, and then he left their room and did not look back.