Page 67 of Her Wicked Duke
She should have taken her horse. She should have risked being on her own and thinking she might be enough to stop them. Behind her, Patrick gained distance on her, and she tried to run faster.
The curves she inherited from her mother slowed her down, but she pushed on, finally coming up the incline of the hill. Four figures waited in the distance.
She recognized her brother and Alexander. The other two must have been their seconds.
“Stop!” Anne screamed, running toward them.
Her robe was soiled, and her lungs ached. She must have looked like a mess, but she could not care about trivial matters at that moment.
She would hear Alexander out, she would beg for her brother’s patience and understanding, and she would stop them both from making a grave mistake.
They were best friends, they should not be fighting because of her foolish choices. Had she just heard Alexander out and formed a strong front with him against her brother, this may have turned out quite differently.
If he had only wanted to marry you,a small voice in her head pointed out.
She ignored it desperately and ran faster.
“Anne! Anne, get away from here!”
It was Alexander who spotted her first, not Christian. Even the sight of him lifted her spirits, and all she wanted to do was run into his arms.
Anne ran straight toward him even as their seconds handed over the pistols. Christian took hold of his, but Alexander’s eyes were on her as she came closer. He opened his arms for her, and she ran into them. It wasn’t out of desperate love but for protection—the very thing he’d sworn to give her.
“Patrick!” she cried, pointing further down the hill as her brother-in-law got closer. “It’s—He’s?—”
“Your stalker,” Alexander finished, his voice hard. “I was trying to tell you, but I was too late.”
“He attacked me,” Anne cried as her brother came closer. “Please, both of you, I beg you. Turn your anger to him. Do not duel.Please.”
Desperate tears streamed down her face, the weight of Patrick’s disgusting words and the threat of losing her brother or Alexander being so real now.
At the sight of Anne being held in Alexander’s arms, and since he was unarmed, Patrick stopped in his tracks. His eyes went wide. He turned on his heels and ran back down the hill.
Alexander let out an angry noise deep in his throat, something awfully protective as he pulled away from Anne. He took off after Patrick.
Christian stood behind Anne, his hands on her shoulders, and it was only then that she realized how hard she was trembling.
“It is not over, Christian,” she said mournfully. “Not yet.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “It is over between Alexander and I. He has tried to explain to me how fiercely he loves you without the infatuation Patrick has. I can see it on his face now that heonly wants to prove himself to you, despite everything. He is a rake, and I will only warn you against that.” He sighed. “But you are a woman, and you have… presumably had some experience before I came home.”
Anne blushed but held her head high, even though her tears were slow to stop. “He loves me but refuses to marry me.”
“Not due to a lack of love. It is more concern, but that is his own story to tell. If you ask Alexander to duel with Patrick right here and now for dishonoring you, he would do it in a heartbeat.”
Anne could scarcely believe it. She had been so wrapped up in her own world that she had seen Alexander’s art and stationery and assumed he was her stalker, even after he rejected her.
But as Alexander and Patrick disappeared down the hill, and a strangled cry rose up from the fields, she realized that the Duke had many defenses up. She could not force him to lower them, but she could try to understand.
“Do you love him, Anne?” Christian asked.
She nodded. “I think I have always loved him.”
Alexander grabbed the back of Patrick’s collar and shoved him to the ground, his boot placed on his back. “If I had brought my pistol, I would have shot you,” he growled. His voice was low,had a dangerous edge to it that sounded like his father’s. For once, he did not mind. “I would not have killed you, Lord Yore, but I would have aimed right here.”
He dug his boot into the back of Patrick’s knee, only to hear him cry out. “I would have let you live with your own nightmare, to watch Anne move on and away from you. To watch her no longer read your letters or take notice of you in any capacity. To happily call the constables and have you tried for harassment, stalking, and assault.”
“Your Grace! Please,” Patrick wailed. “I love her! Should I be punished for love? I have seen how you look at her. Should you be punished, too, then, Your Grace—Ah!” He was cut off as Alexander dug his boot into his knee again.
