Chapter 34
Cold steel touching his temple made Slade go deadly still. It was the unmistakable feel of the barrel of a flintlock pistol. Ice replaced the fire in his veins.
“Remove your bloody hands from my sister.” The quietness of Egan Dunbar’s voice hit Slade like a blacksmith’s hammer.
Slade stepped back from Fifi, and before he could turn, bone and flesh slammed into his jaw. The full impact of Egan’s fist had hit him years ago, many times in fact, during their training sessions. But it had never mirrored a steeled battering ram before.
“No! Egan. Please stop!” Fifi cried.
Slade staggered away from Fifi, worried for her safety, as he turned to face Egan. Another punch landed on his nose. He gasped at the ungodly pain. The unmistakable crunch of a breaking bone sounded as his vision blurred.
Slade raised his hand in a gesture of surrender. “Egan, wait …”
An unimaginable growl preceded another punch landing on his left eye.
Slade’s head snapped back. The force of the blow knocked him with a painful thud onto his backside.
His head rang. His whirling thoughts came into focus.
He looked up. Egan’s angry red face loomed over him.
His foster brother raised his hand and pointed a cocked pistol straight at Slade’s chest. The adrenaline to defend himself never surged inside Slade, nor did anger at being judged a libertine.
He understood Egan’s reaction. Guilt and remorse stayed his own fists.
An outraged Fifi rushed forward and snatched the pistol from Egan’s hands. Duncan and Keith peeked out from behind Egan’s menacing stature. Wide-eyed shock showed on their rugged features. He could have even grinned at their astonished and comical looks if his damn face didn’t hurt so much.
“Egan Dunbar, have you taken leave of your senses?” Fifi’s voice was sharp.
She held the gun by its barrel and shoved it at Keith who immediately took it and pointed it down, away from anyone.
Slade had learned the previous night that Keith was a new father of twins.
And even though he had only one or two strands of gray hair at his temple, he appeared a cool, level-headed mature sort.
Fifi rushed to Slade’s side and assisted him up. She reached into her skirt pocket, took out a pearly white lace handkercher and pressed it to his nose before he could tell her it would just get ruined with his blood. But he ended up wincing audibly at the stinging contact.
“My apologies …” she whispered, pulling her hands away. The intensity of her pursed lips and worry in her expression touched something deep in his heart. It made the pain of his smarting jaw, left eye and nose, which now dripped blood, worth it.
Egan menacingly closed the distance between them. “This is betwixt Slade and I, Phoebe. Return to your room and prepare to leave, posthaste!”
Fifi remained where she was, her head snapping toward her brother, defiance and determination etched in her bonny features. “You’re behaving like a ruffian and a barbarian!” Her voice was loud and angry.
Slade couldn’t help the adoration and pride ballooning in his chest at her defense of him. But still, guilt and a little bit of shame at being the cause of the siblings now glaring at each other niggled him.
“Fifi …” Slade started, nudging her hand holding the half-bloodied handkercher. She turned to him, the worry on her face returning. “… do as Egan bids,” Slade said.
She frowned. He saw the uncertainty flashing across her features, but there was understanding there as well.
Neither of them wanted to make an even bigger scandal than this already was.
She silently nodded and flinched at the bloody handkercher in her hand.
He ventured a guess it was the sight of the blood, recalling what happened to her when Ludlow was shot.
She turned towards the women’s bedchamber door where Lucia was now peeking out.
Lucia’s hair was up in a ridiculous mobcap, and pure wide-eyed shock was etched on her face.
She grabbed Fifi’s hand, shot Slade an accusatory glance, then pulled Fifi into the chamber before shutting the door.
Slade turned to Egan. Egan’s mouth had gone slack, and his eyes wide. He was eying Slade and the closed door Fifi had disappeared through.
“Did you … take her to bed?” Egan asked. The twisting red anger and ugly snarl returning to his face.
“No.” Slade said, not that he hadn’t fantasized about it at least a thousand times.
But Egan didn’t seem to hear as he fisted his right hand and bared his teeth like an angry dog.
Slade took a step back but raised his own fists in a defensive position this time.
“Egan. No,” Slade said, a steely warning in his own voice.
Just then a door slammed open further down the corridor. This coupled with Slade’s voice seem to break through Egan’s rage, because his right fist lost all its tension.
Peter came barreling down the hall barefoot, his shirt tails half tucked into his breeches. “Can we discuss whatever this is like civilized men?”
The red on Egan’s features lessened in intensity, but his scowl remained hard, cold and unyielding.
He eyed Slade steadily for a few seconds before folding his huge arms, showcasing his bulging biceps even through the sleeves of his jacket.
“Propriety dictates two options to you, MacLean. Marry my sister to save her from ruin or face me in a duel.”
Slade stared wide eyed, frozen and speechless, heaviness expanding in his belly.
“What!?” Peter bellowed in shock, as he came to stand next to Keith and Duncan. The latter two had thin-lipped disapproving expressions focused on Slade.
Slade’s head spun. Or perhaps it was the hall that was whirling around.
The sensation of walking on quicksand hit him, and ice started to grow under his skin, spreading the length of his spine.
He didn’t deserve happiness with Fifi, not after what he’d done to Sylvia.
Would he repeat his past sins if he married Fifi?
Fifi needed a husband with impressive ideals like herself, not one set on revenge like him.
But then the image of Fifi with another man sent a hard punch straight to his gut, stiffening the hairs on his neck and causing his ribs to squeeze so tight he had to straighten to breathe.
What if he chose to duel? Ignoring the fact that it was illegal, and he or Egan might end up dead, it would shame Fifi in the eyes of her clan, because it would send the message she was reckless, fast and loose.
What if he tried to reason with Egan? He glanced at his foster brother, the man’s hard unbending jaw and nasty snarl getting more pronounced each second Slade remained silent.
Slade took a deep cleansing breath, causing his nose to smart like the very devil.
“I’ll marry Phoebe,” Slade said.