Page 101 of What a Scot Wants
Her smile felt decidedly wolfish as she let the tip of her pistol drop and point toward the vicinity of his thighs. “I might have been only seventeen, but even I could tell when there was a distinct lack of…” She cleared her throat, her cheeks heating at the thought of Niall standing beside her. “Equipment.”
“You would choose that illegitimate cur over me?”
She felt Niall’s attention. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Oh,” Silas said. “Didn’t Gennie tell you? Your prized brother was born on the wrong side of the blanket. He’s no more a duke than I am.”
With horror, Imogen glanced at Niall, watching the shock curl over his face. But then it broke, and Niall started laughing so hard he clutched at his stomach. “Now, that’s rich,” he said between guffaws.
“It’s true,” Silas said. “I saw a letter to Kincaid.”
“Perhaps, Mr. Calder, what ye saw was a jest to bring Lady Kincaid to her dearest friend’s bedside. It’s a standing joke that my parents were joined hours before Ronan was born, but I assure ye, he is unquestionably a Maclaren.” He laughed. “And if ye thought to attack my family with that kind of slander, ye’re sorely mistaken.” His gaze slid to Imogen. “Maclarens protect our own.”
Silas’s face hardened as though he could feel his precious leverage slipping away. “No matter. You are mine, Gennie.”
Buoyed by the look on Niall’s face, Imogen lifted her chin, her voice going hard. “I was never yours, and I willneverbe yours. You’re nothing but a liar, a thief, and a cheat. Even if Ronan was the bastard son of a bastard horseshit sweeper, I’d still choose him over you.”
“Too bad he’ll never have you!” Silas’s face went purple with rage, and Imogen didn’t have time to blink or brace for injury as he lifted his weapon and fired, the blast deafening in the glade. The barest whisper of something hit her skirts, but there was no accompanying pain.
He’d missed!
Silas’s eyes bulged as he realized the same. “What are you waiting for, shoot her,” he ordered his hulking second.
In a panic, Imogen’s stare darted to his second, but a loud click of a primed gun sounded in the silence.
“Dunnae even think it,” Niall snarled, two weapons pointed at the man and his master. “Did ye think I wouldnae come prepared for yer dishonor?” He nodded to Imogen. “Take yer shot, my lady.”
Imogen lifted steady fingers, feeling cool resolve shimmer through her. She took aim right at his crotch. Here was her chance to end the monster who had victimized her and others. Retribution for Belinda. A tear slipped down her cheek when her hand started to shake.
It wasn’t because of the man whose life she held in her hands. It was because of the one she’d left behind…the one she’d betrayed. Killing Silas would solve nothing. The chains on her soul would only cinch tighter.
“You can’t do it,” Silas sneered. “Can you? I was the first man you ever loved.”
“You’re not a man, and I never loved you.” She lifted her pistol and shot it high into the air. “I plan to forget your existence while you rot in Newgate.”
He cackled. “On what charges?”
A loud voice interrupted them as Thomson emerged from the trees. “On the charges of conspiracy and kidnapping of a peer’s daughter.” The agent scowled. “And while we’re at it, charges of murder in the death of the Marquess of Paxton.”
Thomson was followed by a handful of men, including the Duke of Bradburne and the Earl of Langlevit, both influential and deadly men, as Imogen had discovered. Her knees nearly buckled. Hilda had delivered the message to Bradburne as she’d instructed before leaving for Regent’s Park. She’d expected to be taken into custody for participation in an illegal duel and, until she’d decidednotto kill Silas, hadn’t thought there would be another outcome besides her own death.
“I had nothing to do with that,” Silas said, but his voice was thin.
“The letters penned to one Lady Beatrice say otherwise. Not to mention what I’ve learned from the Italian police. It seems they’ve had their eyes on you for a long time in the disappearance of two young women.”
Silas whirled, snatched the gun from his footman, and aimed at Imogen. “This is all your fault!”
Imogen froze. He would not miss this time. All she could think of was the fact that she hadn’t been able to apologize to Ronan…or to tell him how she truly felt. She hoped he would know. Wait—she could tell his brother. “Niall, please tell him…”
Several shots fired at once, drowning out her words and making her ears ring. Imogen closed her eyes, but once more, pain miraculously did not come. Cracking her eyelids open, she saw men rushing toward Silas’s fallen body. Given the smoking weapons, he’d been shot by multiple men, including Niall.
Thomson nodded at the Highlander as his men restrained Silas’s man, who was weeping like a babe. “Get her out of here. I’ll take care of this.”
But before Niall could move, an enormous figure came bursting through the trees. “Imogen, ye better be alive or I will kill ye myself!”
A sob escaped her lips as she turned to see Ronan’s beautiful, beloved, furious face.
The love of her life caught her just before she fell into a dead faint.
