Page 49 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“A duel?” wailed a familiar female voice. The crowed turned as Grace pushed past two men and said, “Eve Crenshaw, what have you done?”

*****

Memory of that same high-pitched cry caused Erroll to whirl toward the female who had uttered the sound. Miss Grace Crenshaw stood in front of the crowd, those perfect breasts heaving as they had… How many days ago had it been?

“A duel?” she cried. “He is fighting a duel over you?”

Erroll shifted his gaze onto Miss Eve Crenshaw. “Your handiwork, madam?”

She had the good grace to blush and he satisfied himself that her reaction was a good beginning for the retribution he had in mind. Erroll turned his attention to the brute. “Oscar, I beg you, please tell me you have the nerve to deal with the younger Miss Crenshaw.”

Oscar didn’t hesitate, but strode to the girl and grasped her arm.

“Take your hands off me,” she ordered.

“For pity’s sake, Grace,” her sister said, “be quiet.”

“How dare you?” the girl seethed.

“I warn you, Grace, I will take you over my knee myself.”

The younger sister’s eyes widened while the elder sister’s eyes narrowed.

Miss Eve Crenshaw hadn’t lied. She was none the worse for wear, but that was due to the unbelievable good luck that Halifax had waited until they reached Gretna Green to yank from her the last vestiges of her honor.

“Halifax, there are too many people in the square and we cannot chance a bullet going through one of the cottages,” Erroll said. “We will settle this in the field yonder.”

Halifax tossed his pistol to the ground. “I will not duel.”

The click of hammers being pulled back on several guns resounded in the quiet. “We think ye will, laddie,” said one man.

Halifax glanced wildly about at half a dozen guns pointed at him. “Y-you cannot do this. Do you know who I am?”

“You are the man who kidnapped another man’s fiancé, then tried to rape her in order to force her into marriage,” Erroll said.

“Rape?” Grace Crenshaw repeated.

Halifax shook his head. “No, it is a mistake. That is not what happened.” He jerked to the left where the elder sister stood beside Somerset. Somerset drew her aside as if to shield her with his body. Halifax’s eyes widened. “Miss Crenshaw—Eve—tell them. It was a jest. Nothing more.”

“A jest?” Erroll repeated. “I found you on top of her.” In one fluid action, Erroll yanked up his pistol and drew back the hammer as he leveled the gun on him.

“No!” Halifax cried. “Tell him, Miss Crenshaw. It was a jest and when you found us, we had fallen on the floor.”

Erroll kept his pistol steady. “Was it a jest, Miss Crenshaw?”

She hesitated and anger stabbed through him.

“It started out innocently enough,” she said.

“Innocent?” Erroll took a step toward Halifax, his pistol aimed at the man’s heart.

“He deserves to be shot,” said the man acting as Halifax’s second. “But a jury will be more compassionate with a fair fight than an unarmed man who is gunned down while the whole town looks on.”

Yes, there was that, and Erroll’s military rank—along with the fact that it would be a Scot—even a wealthy Scot whose mother was the daughter of an English duke—who had gunned down an English nobleman. All of which would guarantee a conviction. He might still receive the conviction even in a fair duel.

“My lord,” Miss Eve Crenshaw pleaded. He glanced at her. She gave a tiny shake of her head. “Please.”

“You know very well he intended to embarrass me by ruining you.” Erroll pointed his pistol heavenward and released the hammer. “I would have survived. But you…have you no concern for your reputation—or your honor?”