Page 109 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
Adrian’s heart briefly leaped into his mouth, but there was no corresponding scream, nothing to say that the shot had hit Isobel.
“I will kill you,” Moreton snarled as Adrian brought his first into the other man’s face.
He groaned, blood dribbling from his broken nose. Rage burned in Adrian’s chest, turning his vision red.
Still…
He knew he couldn’t afford to kill this man, no matter how much he deserved it.
Isobel deserved better than to have a murderer for a husband, and the law would work in his favor this time. He would make sure of it.
Moreton slipped a hand free and slammed his fist into Adrian’s cheek. Pain flowered across his skull, but he didn’t lose his grip on Moreton even for a second.
“Stop right there,” Isobel said, her voice clear, even if Adrian knew her well enough to hear the fear behind it. “If ye don’t, Lord Moreton, I will shoot ye here, and don’t think I won’t. Yedeserve to die for what ye did to yer brother. To Pollyanna. And now to us.”
“You should listen to her,” Adrian said, letting all the midnight danger he could summon sink into his voice. “She is a wild hellcat, and more than capable of ending your miserable life.”
In his heart of hearts, he didn’t know if she would shoot Moreton, but that wasn’t the point. The point was Moreton believed it.
He saw the moment the man underneath him gave up the fight. He sank back against the cobbles, his skin turning pale.
“Damn you little Scot,” he said, the words thick from his broken nose. “I surrender.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Thank you,” Adrian murmured to her.
Isobel’s hand trembled around the unfamiliar butt of Lord Moreton’s pistol. She clutched it so tightly her fingers ached, but she didn’t dare release her grip. Below her, the two men grappled. At first, she had thought that perhaps this was for the best.
Then Lord Moreton had hit Adrian, and she’d discovered she could not stand passive. So, as the two men fought, and Isobel picked up the pistol that Moreton had dropped.
In truth, she didn’t know if she could shoot him, but that didn’t matter. And what was the weight of his death on her conscience if she could save more people from falling prey to him? He’d already killed at least three people. Over the course of his lifetime, there would be more, unless she put a stop to it.
Adrian had climbed slowly to his feet, a red mark on his cheek from where he had been struck. Moreton had remained on the ground, and she kept her pistol focused on him, not daring to let it waver.
Adrian had stridden to where she stood and put one hand on her waist as he’d thanked her.
“Will you shoot him?” she whispered through numb lips.
“Not unless he makes me.” He prized her fingers from around the handle and took the burden of the gun into his hands.
She had to admit, it was a relief to not have to worry about it anymore. Adrian had both guns and the upper hand.
“Did you think I would come here unprepared?” Adrian demanded, his voice harsh as he turned on Lord Moreton. “Did you think I would stand back and let you threaten my wife?”
He bent into a crouch, far enough away that Lord Moreton could not lunge for him, but close enough that he could get his point across clearly.
Isobel shivered.
“You asked me what I would do to protect my wife, and the answer iseverything. I would do anything it takes to look after her. Including ending your sorry excuse for a life.”
Moreton’s lip curled, and he stuck his hand into his inner pocket.
When he came back out, he had a knife in his hand, which he slashed at Adrian.
Isobel screamed, her hand over her mouth, but Adrian moved more quickly, dodging the knife and knocking it from Moreton’s hand in one movement, then kicking the other man in the chest.
Adrian stood over him, pinning him down, pressing hard enough that Moreton’s face flooded with color.
