Page 58 of The Major's Mistake
“One.”
He wet his lips as his features betrayed his inner struggle.
“Two.”
“How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”
“Because I am a gentleman and my word is binding, even to a piece of gutter slime like you.”
McTavish’s face twisted into a scowl that made it clear he intended the marquess to pay for such a remark, but after a slight hesitation he slowly lowered his weapon.
Miranda crossed quickly to where Julian was standing. She hadn’t failed to notice the patch of crimson seeping through the knee of his buckskins or the pallor of his skin under the sweat and grime.
“You’re hurt,” she exclaimed in a murmur low enough that only he could hear. “I’m not going to leave you with that cur. Keep your pistols up—we’ll both go. You needn’t honor any pledge made to that sort of man. The men by the fire will not tryto stop us. They wish themselves well out of this and he and his two underlings hold them here only out of fear and force.”
“No. Now go!” he whispered, not taking his eyes off of McTavish. “And quickly!”
“But—”
“Please don’t argue.” His voice was tight with concern. “It’s no good—I’d never manage the climb back. Justin found us. Sykes knows what’s happened. He’ll see to things.” A spasm of pain crossed his face. “Besides, there is no real cause for worry. If he murders me, there would such a reaction from London that the authorities would be forced to tear these hills apart searching for the culprit. Whatever else, he doesn’t appear to be a total fool. Besides, he wants the money too badly, and he knows he’ll have to produce me in one piece.”
Julian then raised his voice to address McTavish. “I’m going to give the lady one of my pistols. The other one will remain aimed at your heart until she is well away.” His mouth quirked in a dry smile. “Then I will submit to your hospitality until satisfactory arrangements can be made. But don’t forget, my man is a rather cautious sort of fellow and will demand to see the merchandise before he pays for it.” Though his words retained their steely edge, the marquess couldn’t keep from swaying slightly as he finished.
Miranda’s hand came up instinctively to rest on his sleeve.
“Julian!”
It was the first time she had uttered his name. Julian felt a lurch in his throat as his eyes fell away to regard her pale features. He wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms and beg her to say it again. And again.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, then his gaze swung back to the leader.
It was too late.
McTavish hadn’t taken his eyes from the marquess as well. At the momentary lapse in attention he was ready to take the advantage. The pistol was still dangling in his hand. In one quick motion, he hurled the heavy weapon at Julian’s injured leg while dodging to one side to avoid any answering shot. It caught the marquess flush on the knee.
Stifling a cry, he dropped to the ground where he lay in stunned agony.
“Julian!” cried Miranda as she dropped down to the ground next to him.
“Cover them, you idiots!” screamed McTavish .
Scofield and Gibbs managed to recover their wits enough to train their weapons on the two figures in the dirt.
“Well, well,” sneered McTavish as he sauntered towards them. “Isn’t this an interesting turn of events.” He tossed one of the Marquess’s pistols to his two cohorts and stuck the other in the waistband of his pants.
“Think on it,” Julian warned. He managed to push himself up to a sitting position. “You’ll get not a farthing if, as I said, the merchandise isn’t in one piece.”
An ugly laugh rent the chill air. “Oh, the merchandise will be one piece. It will just be a bit … used.” His expression turned even uglier as his gaze strayed to Miranda and then back to the marquess. “Perhaps you’d like to watch.”
Julian went absolutely rigid. His tone remained low but the words cut through the air with all the steely force of a saber. “You so much as lay a finger on my wife,” he said very slowly. “And I will rip your heart out of your chest with my bare hands.”
A murmur of shock and surprise ran through the men around the fire.
“Shut up,” snarled McTavish, but it was clear he, too, was taken aback by the force as well as the import of the Julian’s words. It was one thing to take advantage of some poor widowof dubious morals but even he had to think twice about forcing himself on the wife of a marquess.
“Wife? She ain’t your wife,” he said uncertainly. “It’s a hum.”
“It’s no hum.
