Page 99 of What a Scot Wants
Watching the sky and the approach of dawn, dread gripped his heart in its dark, cold grasp, and as the first rays of dawn crept across the darkened sky and they careened through a sleepy London, Ronan could only hope that he wasn’t too late.
…
Imogen’s heart was in her throat when she pulled Zeus to a breathless stop. She’d dismissed her coach upon arriving at Dunrannoch House earlier that evening, and she hadn’t remembered that she might need transportation.
Luckily, Zeus hadn’t put up much of a fuss and had allowed her to climb on him. It wasn’t until she was nearly to Regent’s Park—having made a stealthy return stop at Kincaid Manor, where Hilda was waiting, to change into a dark riding habit, write a message to be delivered to the Duke of Bradburne, and gather Hilda’s pistol as a backup—that she realized that the horse must have scented his master’s smell on her, which would account for his unusual docility.
But Zeus was fast, and she couldn’t have risked going to the mews to saddle Temperance and waking the grooms. No one, not even the sleepy-eyed stable boy, had stopped her at Dunrannoch House, which was perhaps a small mercy.
The duke would be furious she’d stolen his horse, too.
Along with the long list of her other unforgivable transgressions. She’d seduced him, lied to him, lain with him, sedated him, and stolen his horse. Purgatory was too good of a place for her. But she’d had no choice. Shehadto do this.
Dismounting, she hiked her shoulders and made her way into the clearing. She glanced up at the sky. By her count, dawn was fast approaching. There were three men already there. Imogen swallowed a gasp. One was the horrible man who had tied her to the chair in the hovel in St Giles, the other was Silas, and the third was Ronan’s youngest brother, Niall.
The last turned to her, his eyes going wide. He didn’t waste time in striding toward her. “Where’s Ronan?”
Imogen met his blue gaze. “Indisposed, I’m afraid.”
“Is he on his deathbed?” Niall asked, narrowing his eyes. “Because my brother would have to be on the verge of death to no’ appear for a challenge he issued.”
“He’s abed, and I am here in his stead,” she said in a firm, implacable tone.
“My lady,” Niall began, placing a hand on her arm. “We need to call this off if Ronan is ailing or unable to be here. This is nae place for—”
The look in her eyes froze the words on his lips as she shook him off. “If you even think of vocalizing what I think you’re going to say, the next lead ball will be aimed at you. Now, if you value your hand, you will remove it from my person at once.”
“Imogen.”
“Niall.”
He blew air through his teeth. “Lord, ye’re stubborn. And here I thought I was married to the Queen of Stubborn Women.”
“Aisla has nothing on me,” she said and walked past him without giving him any further chance to prevent her from doing what she’d risked everything to do.
Imogen slowed her pace when Silas and his second stared at her, both with matching expressions of shock. Silas smiled and sketched a bow. “I’d hope you would come to see me put a hole through your fiancé, but he has yet to arrive.”
“He’s not coming. I’m here to duel in his place.”
The second gaped. “You’re a woman.”
Imogen glanced down at the plain black riding habit she wore. “My gender doesn’t affect my ability to aim.”
“This is not allowed,” he shot back.
She laughed. “Duelingis not allowed, but let’s not argue over trifles, seeing that you kidnapped the daughter of a peer, shall we?” Imogen lifted her gaze to Silas. “Unless, of course, your employer is afraid to be bested by a mere lass.”
“Gennie,” Silas said.
A snarl rose in her throat. “I told you. My name is Imogen. Now, pick your weapon and take your paces. Let’s get this over with, once and for all.”
“I will not duel you.”
“That is certainly your prerogative. You may delope if you like, but I am Lord Dunrannoch’s second, and I am here in his stead.” Her glance slid to Niall, who hadn’t said another word, though his eyes narrowed at the blatant lie that she was his second. She walked over to where he waited with the brace of pistols.
He exhaled. “I cannae allow ye to do this. It’s no’…right.”
Imogen bent over to calmly inspect one of the pistols in the box he held. “I don’t need your permission todoanything, Lord Tarbendale, but I understand you may try to stop me.” She drew a breath. “All I can ask is you trust that I need to do this. I have my reasons.”
