Page 61 of A Knave By Any Other Name
“Let us get this done with,” Saville growled. “There is no use in arguing with a woman in a childish temper.”
Selena grit her teeth. If she hadn’t been angry before, that sentence was enough to tempt her to pull the trigger before the count.
Avondale let out a helpless sigh, but took position to Saville’s left, a frown carved onto his face.
“On the count of three?” Selena suggested.
“By all means.”
“One.”
Selena didn’t waiver. Neither did Saville.
“Two.”
He held steady. So did she.
Avondale cursed. “This is madne—.”
“Three.”
Two shots rang out.
Selena jolted, half expecting her body to explode into pain. Her brother might not be the best shot, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hit a target. Not that she believed he would shoot her. His whole attitude was that of a male deigning to indulge a female.
That angered her most.
A loud curse rang out through the clearing in the wake of the two rapid fires. Saville dropped to his knees, clutching his arm, blood trickled through his fingers.
“Oh,” Selena murmured, heart galloping at a neck break pace. “I didn’t miss.” Of course, she hadn’t meant to reallyshoothim, either. She merely wanted to vent some of her anger.
“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” Saville wailed. “You didn’tmiss? You bloody shot me!”
“Why are you so surprised?” Selena asked, still rather surprised and in a bit of shock herself. “Isn’t this the point of a duel? Plus, I’ve always been a better shot than you.”
“I didn’t fire the pistol at you. I purposely missed! Did you think I would shoot you? A woman? Mysister?”
“I’m a crack shot, brother. It’s a scratch, I assure you.” The blood caught her a bit off guard, but she didn’t exaggerate her ability.
“You . . . you . . .”
She lowered her pistol as Avondale hunkered down next to Saville. “Let me see.” He inspected the wound.
Selena’s stepped closer a few feet then stopped again. “Why are acting as though I’ve dealt a deadly hit?”
Avondale tore a strip of cloth from his clothing and wound it around her brother’s arm. “It’s not deep.”
In the distance, a carriage approached, and Selena spared a swift glance over her shoulder before looking back at her brother. Her heart did a little somersault.
That would be Warrick.
Would he be angry at her for stealing his duel? Probably. But she refused to regret her decision. He had come to her at the alehouse, the least she could do was save him from her brother. Warrick might have kissed her, but she hadn’t pushed him away.Her honor needn’t be defended. Even if it did, she could defend her own.
Her brother, however, glared at the carriage with the ferocity of a rising sun.
Selena turned, her thumb stroking over the metal she still gripped in her hand. The moment the horses came to a halt, the door swung open and Warrick jumped from the carriage. His eyes immediately met hers before dropping to the pistol in her hand. “What happened?”
“Good,” Saville growled. He rose from his crouching position, still clutching his bandaged arm. “You are here. Now the duel can proceed.”
