Page 87 of Bride By Mistake
“Husband? Not for long.” Ramón made no move to shake Luke’s hand.
Luke shrugged, sat down again, and bit into another cake. “These are remarkably good,” he commented.
As Luke had intended, Ramón seemed nonplussed by such behavior. After a minute of glowering and some more huffing and puffing, he boomed, “You stole my treasure.”
Luke took no notice.
Ramón’s face grew red.
Isabella knotted her fingers anxiously.
Luke finished the cake and dusted the crumbs from his fingers. Then he glanced up and said innocently, “Oh, sorry, were you talking to me? No, I didn’t steal anything.” Red rag to the bull.
Ramón gave a low growl. “I meant Isabella!”
“Stop it, Luke. Don’t provoke him,” Isabella whispered.
Luke smiled. Isabella opened her mouth to argue, butLuke silenced her with a look.
“Well?” Ramón said in a belligerent voice.
“Yes, my wife is indeed a treasure.” Luke wiped his fingers with a napkin and added in a cool, silky tone, “But she’s not yours, never was, and never will be.”
Ramón snorted. “You’re a fool.”
Luke raised a single brow. “Am I?”
“To come with your rich young wife to the lair of the wolf alone and unprotected? You must be a fool.”
Isabella couldn’t restrain herself any longer. She jumped up. “Stop it! Don’t you dare threaten us!”
Ramón sneered and gestured to the dueling swords. “On my land I do whatever I want, little cousin. And if I want to make you a widow, I will.”
“Oh, you want to fight like a gentleman, do you?” Luke drawled. “In that case…” The ice was beginning to sing in his veins, as it always did at the prospect of a fight.
“Luke, he’s not a gentleman,” Isabella said in a low, vehement tone. “He won’t follow any gentlemen’s rules. He has no rules but Ramón’s.”
“Exactly, little cousin.” Ramón sneered. “Ramón’s land, Ramón’s rules.”
“No!” She tried to get between them.
Luke gripped her firmly by the arms and moved her behind him. “Sit there and stay out of the way,” he ordered. “This is men’s business.”
She whitened but, amazingly, obeyed.
The ice well and truly singing in his veins now, Luke strolled to the fireplace and plucked one of the crossed swords from above the mantel. “Actually she’s only your second cousin, and twice removed, I believe. I intend to remove her even further, so if you have a burning desire to kill me, you are welcome to try.” He flexed the long blade experimentally.
Behind him Isabella made a small distressed sound. The timbre of it disturbed Luke. He glanced at her.
His little fire-eater sat frozen where he’d put her, watching Ramón, small and still as a mouse mesmerized by a snake. Her face was pale and pinched, her golden eyes dark and filled with…
Luke frowned. He’d never seen her looking like that before. He didn’t like it. He glanced back at Ramón, who was glowering and clenching and unclenching his fists. How could she be frightened of such a fellow? Brute force, he supposed.
He lightly drew his finger along the edge of the blade. Sharp as a razor. He tested the sword for balance, then swished the blade through the air.
And from the corner of his eye he saw Isabella flinch. She gave Luke a stricken look, bit down hard on her lower lip, clenched her hands into small fists, and resolutely looked away. With a shock he realized he was the one who’d put that look in her eyes.
She was frightened for him.
