Page 80 of No One's Bride
Was he dead because he’d failed to deliver on a promise?
“We cannae disclose the location.” Ailsa’s voice trembled in time with her limbs. She hugged Sebastian’s coat, covertly slipping her hand into the pocket. “Nae to strangers. Nae to men who threaten violence.”
“Then you leave us no choice.”
The attack came quickly, the opposing sides charging into battle as if they carried the pain of an ancient injustice.
When it came to the art of pugilism, Sebastian was as skilled as Mr Gibbs. Both men blocked a series of punches, their own efforts hitting the targets with ease.
“We could earn a tidy sum if we fought together, milord.” Mr Gibbs’ fist connected with his opponent’s nose, a loud crack accompanying the sudden burst of blood.
Sebastian ducked to miss a right hook before thumping one man so hard in the stomach the fellow collapsed into a heap. “You speak of Aaron Chance’s monthly competition?”
“Mr Chance is on the hunt for a dangerous duo.” Mr Gibbs caught one man with an uppercut to the chin, rendering the villain unconscious.
Ailsa might have given a relieved sigh now the odds were even, but two more black-clad beasts entered the alley.
“Will ye both stop talking and concentrate.” Fear ran like icy fingers down her spine. Mr Smith was so determined to get his hands on the old tome he stood at the iron railings, ready to send reinforcements.
Suspecting they would soon be outnumbered, Ailsa gripped the pocket pistol, preparing to draw the weapon and fire.
But another man stepped into the alley.
A golden-haired Adonis whose handsome looks gave him the appearance of an angel. It was a foolish mistake to make. Cold, unforgiving eyes and the cruel twist of his mouth marked him as the devil’s spawn.
Christian Chance cracked his knuckles. His gaze turned vicious as if he lived for the prospect of drawing blood. “Who shall I throttle first?” he mused, racing forward and knocking one man out cold.
“Enough!” came the sudden cry from the iron gates.
Pistol fire stopped the brawlers dead in their tracks.
They all turned their attention to Mr Smith, who gripped the railings with pasty white fingers. Aaron Chance stood beside him, a smoking pistol in one hand, the muzzle of another pressed to the blackguard’s temple.
ChapterSixteen
Seconds passed, but no one moved.
Mr Smith’s lackeys stood like automatons, unable to speak or think for themselves and merely waiting for their next instruction.
Sebastian examined his red knuckles, pleased to discover the blood wasn’t his. He flexed his throbbing fingers, confident none were broken. That didn’t stop his heart lurching when he met Ailsa’s worried gaze.
Fear slithered through him as various scenarios played out in his mind. What if Smith’s men had got the better of him? What if they’d taken Ailsa hostage and tortured her like they had Hibbet? The notion brought bile to his throat.
Was it any wonder he kept his heart locked in a fortress without access to the outside world? It was the only recourse for a man determined to avoid pain. He couldn’t cope with losing someone else he loved.
He couldn’t cope with losing Ailsa.
The thought squeezed the air from his lungs.
Was he in love with Ailsa MacTavish?
But there was no time to examine his feelings now.
Aaron Chance commanded Smith to open the iron gate. “Turn the blasted key,” he shouted upon hearing Smith’s refusal. “Don’t make me ask you again.”
“You won’t shoot,” Smith said confidently.
“Not in the head,” Aaron countered, the threat of violence evident in his tone, “but I’ll make sure you lose a leg. Take heed. My brother has fists like mallets and can hit with a force that would make Satan shriek.”
