Provoked (20 page)

“That’s not true,” David said. “
You
are a good man, Euan. A loving brother, a fine student, a loyal friend. You are not a man who murders for revenge. Please don’t stain your soul with this crime.”

Euan made a noise somewhere between despair and amusement. “You want me to let this cur live? Let him marry that stuck-up Galbraith whore and have a nice, comfortable life while Peter is sent across the sea in chains?”

Hugh made an angry noise and began to rise. “How dare you speak of Miss Gal—”

Euan interrupted this protest with an angry roar. “Shut your
fucking
mouth!” His gun arm stiffened, the pistol in his hand dark and deadly. His eyes blazed, and his thin, wiry body vibrated with tension. David twitched with the need to move, to intervene, but Balfour’s hand on his left shoulder exerted pressure, keeping him in place.

“Think carefully,” Balfour said, addressing Euan. His voice was calm and firm. “You’ve only got one shot. After that, you will be unarmed, and we will overcome you. You’ll be arrested. Hanged. All this will have been for nothing. All you have to do to avoid that is to put down your gun and leave.”

Euan considered that. “It wouldn’t be for nothing,” he said at last, his gaze never wavering from the kneeling man. “
He
would be dead.”

“And so would you be, soon enough.”

Euan just shrugged, and David’s heart wrenched to see how little the lad seemed to value his own life.

“If you lower your pistol,” Balfour continued, his voice calm and low, “you can walk away. We won’t stop you. Think of that.” Balfour’s intent black gaze was concentrated on the other man, and as his attention narrowed and deepened, so too did his grip of David’s shoulder loosen, till his big hand was merely resting there.

David saw that Balfour believed he could persuade Euan. He didn’t seem to have realised yet, as David had, that Euan’s desire to revenge his brother was far stronger than his desire to save himself.

Balfour didn’t know how little Euan had to live for.

But David knew—and more, that the only way to stop Euan’s bullet from hitting Hugh was to put something else in the way.

Balfour’s attention was all on Euan now. It only took a shrug to displace the heavy hand from David’s shoulder and move smoothly in front of the kneeling man.

“
David!
”

He didn’t miss the shock and fear in Balfour’s voice. Nor the unfamiliar use of his own Christian name. He didn’t turn, though. He didn’t dare look away from the man in front of him.

“Get out of the way, Davy,” Euan said, his voice soft and dangerous.

“Do as he says!” Balfour added forcefully.

David ignored Balfour, his gaze fixed on Euan. “I can’t,” he said. He wondered if either of them realised how serious he was. “I caused this. And I won’t have a man’s death on my conscience.”

Euan’s arm stayed where it was, the barrel of the pistol pointing at David now. “I don’t want to shoot you. You’ve been a good friend to me, till now.”

David gave a tremulous smile, afraid despite his best efforts. “Then don’t. Don’t shoot me. Just do as Balfour said and leave. We won’t stop you.”

“You don’t understand,” Euan continued. “I can’t allow you to stand in my way.”

David shook his head. “No,
you
don’t understand. It’s like Balfour said—you’ve only got one shot. You leave now or you shoot me, but you’re not getting Lees.”

“David—” Balfour’s voice was hoarse. “For Christ’s sake, step away!”

Euan’s eyes blazed. “Listen to him. Stand aside. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Without shifting his gaze from Euan, David slowly raised the knife Balfour had given him and tossed it away. It skittered across the floor to the other side of the room. David raised his other hand then, both palms facing outwards.

“I’m not making you do anything,” he said, his voice trembling. “It’s your choice whether to shoot me. But I won’t be moving aside. I can’t.”

Euan’s gaze shifted over David’s shoulder to the man behind him. He looked despairing and angry. At the very end of his rope.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” he whispered. “This was my only chance.”

For a moment, David thought the lad was going to do it, that he was going to fire the bullet into David’s body. He imagined the impact of it, caving his chest in, shattering bones, burning through flesh, and he began to tremble.

Euan’s hand on the pistol stayed steady, his body the very picture of certainty and action. His face, though, told a more complex story. Grief was there, and hatred for the man who knelt behind David—and hesitancy.

When at last he spoke again, his voice was devoid of expression. “Come here, then.”

“David, don’t.” Balfour’s voice was firm, commanding.

David ignored him. “Cover Hugh,” he said shortly and walked forward, his hands still raised.

A few paces brought him close enough to Euan that another inch would have the barrel of the gun pressing into his chest.

“Turn round.”

David obeyed, noting with relief that Balfour had done as David had asked. He stood in front of Hugh now, his own pistol trained on Euan and David. He looked angry, his eyes flashing dark fire at David, his lips pressed tightly together.

An arm snaked round David’s shoulders and pulled him back against Euan’s chest. He could feel the prickle of the other man’s beard growth at his ear.

“I believe you mean what you say about letting me go,” Euan murmured, pressing the pistol against David’s temple, “but I don’t trust your friend there. So I need to keep you with me for now. We’re going to walk backwards to the door.”

David nodded, and they began to pace awkwardly backwards.

“You two,” Euan said, raising his voice as they drew close to the doorway. “Stay exactly where you are. If you move so much as an inch, I’ll put a bullet in his head.”

Balfour and Hugh both nodded. Balfour wore a grim, unhappy look.

David heard the door creaking open behind him, felt the tension in Euan’s arm drawing him back and the steely press of the pistol against the side of his head. His heart thudded as he watched Balfour and Hugh, praying neither of them would do anything rash or alarming.

As Euan pulled him through the doorway, Balfour’s fists clenched by his side. “Where are you taking him?” he demanded.

“Davy’s coming with me for a little. He’ll be back soon enough, provided you two don’t move. And I’ll hear you if you do. The floorboards creak something terrible.”

Balfour gave another jerky nod, and the next moment, they were out and the door was swinging closed behind them, the torn-out, useless lock clattering against the frame.

Euan grabbed David’s arm and turned him round, shoving him forward so roughly he stumbled. While David was righting his footing, the other man got behind him, pushing the barrel of his pistol in David’s back.

“Come on,” he grated. “Move!”

He hustled David down the corridor and the first two rickety flights of stairs. At the next landing, he grabbed David by the shoulder.

“This is where we part,” he said. He looked at David for a long moment before adding fiercely, “I don’t think you realise how close I came to killing you tonight.”

“I do,” David said. “But I had faith in you too.”

Euan gave a harsh laugh. “You always see the best in people, Davy. I’m not sure if it’s a weakness or a strength.”

“I’m not as naïve as you think.” David fished in his coat and pulled out a purse of coins—it was all the money he had. He pressed it into Euan’s hands. “Here. Get out of the city. Don’t look back. Forget Lees.”

Euan gave him a long look, pocketing the purse. “I can’t promise to do that. But I promise this. I’ll pay you back one day.” Then he was gone, his boot heels ringing out as he raced down the last flight of stairs.

David stayed where he was, gazing down the stairwell at the lad’s diminishing figure. He waited till he heard the front door of the hotel being wrenched open, the decisive clang as it closed.

Then he counted to a hundred, slowly, to let Euan get well and truly away.

As he stood there, counting, the single candle that lit the stairwell landing guttered out. The flame died first; then, after a moment, a thin thread of smoke rose from its waxy grave and began to drift upwards.

David turned and followed it up to the third floor.

Chapter Sixteen

Balfour handed David a generous glass of whisky. They were in the drawing room of his townhouse, David perched stiffly on a brocade sofa. Hugh had been sent off to a bedchamber with a footman as his guide as soon as they arrived. Balfour had spoken not a word to his cousin in the carriage on the way here, his gaze averted as though he couldn’t bring himself to look at the other man. He’d been quiet with David too, but not in the same way. His manner with David had been kind and concerned. Watchful.

“I should be getting home,” David said, though he accepted the whisky and took a deep swallow, relishing the burn of the liquor.

Balfour regarded him silently, his expression faintly troubled.

“What is it?” David asked.

Balfour seemed reluctant to speak but eventually, when David kept looking at him questioningly, he muttered, “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Balfour huffed in an exasperated way and strode over to the fireplace. The fire was burning merrily in the grate, but Balfour grabbed the poker and went at the logs as though it needed stirring. When he finally straightened, he turned and said, “What if Euan MacLennan turns up at your rooms tonight?”

David was stunned into momentary silence. He thought of that big, warm hand on his shoulder. And Balfour calling out
“David!”
when he ran in front of Euan’s pistol, even though Balfour always called him Lauriston. An odd, unfamiliar warmth grew in his belly.

“He won’t,” David said at last, adopting a deliberately light tone. “But your cousin had better keep an eye out, I’d say.”

Balfour ignored that. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? Not with me—my staff will make you up a chamber.”

“There’s no need—”

“Humour me,” Balfour interrupted. “You seem to have a habit of running into trouble. Last time you were here, you managed to get attacked on the way home.”

David felt himself flush, thinking of that night. Abruptly, he decided to give way. He was exhausted after all. “All right,” he said, shrugging. “If you wish.”

“Good,” Balfour said, throwing himself into a chair and swallowing half the contents of his own glass. “What do you think MacLennan will do now?”

David considered. “His brother was transported a few weeks ago. They probably won’t see each other ever again. Euan is desolate. And angry.” He paused. “He may try to find your cousin again. I don’t know.”

Balfour brooded over that, staring into the fire.

David watched him. What a profile the man had. Like some ancient Roman general with his dark hair cut Brutus style and his strong, blunt features. A hint of aggression in that discontented jaw.

“May I make a request?” David said.

Balfour turned his head, eyes hooded. “It depends what it is,” he growled.

Shamefully, excitement stirred in David at the promise in the other man’s deep voice before he thrust that thought aside. He had a real favour to ask. Something he suspected Balfour would not be eager to agree.

“Don’t pursue Euan.”

A small shift in Balfour’s expression and the hint of promise turned to caution. “You said yourself you think he’ll go after Hugh again.”

“And Hugh knows about him now. He can take care of himself. It’s between them.”

“I might despise him, but he’s my cousin.”

“And Euan is my friend. A friend I betrayed to save your cousin.”

“And what if he succeeds next time, when I might have stopped him?”

“What if you stop him when he was never going to do anything?”

“Why should Hugh take that chance?”

David shook his head angrily. “Hugh? A man who lied to and betrayed innocent men, you mean? He
caused
this.”

Balfour stayed silent, watching David carefully. “Do you fancy yourself in love with MacLennan?” he said at last.

“What? No!” He wasn’t sure whether Balfour believed him or not. The man’s gaze never wavered from his.

“The reason I am here, in Scotland,” Balfour said eventually, “is because my aunt begged me to find Hugh. I promised I would try to extricate him from whatever my father had got him into. I have to keep that promise.”

“And you have kept it. If you want to protect him further, there are other things you can do for him than go after Euan. Send him abroad. Give him a new name.”

“That kind of help will take him away from Bella Galbraith.”

“Maybe.”

Balfour sighed. “If I send Hugh away now, he will think I want Bella for myself.”

“And do you?” The words were out before David could stop them. He hated the smile they elicited from that beautifully carved mouth.

“She
would
make an ideal wife.”

Goaded, David said waspishly, “Putting aside the fact she dislikes you, you mean?”

Balfour laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “How catty of you! I didn’t think you’d stoop so low.”

God, but he was handsome when he laughed. David felt a queer ache in his stomach that was only partly desire.

“I’m not being catty,” David said. “It’s merely an observation.”

Balfour grinned. “You’re right of course. Bella thinks it’s her right to be worshipped, and she hates that I tease her mercilessly. Also, she has no sense of humour whatsoever.”

Yes, that fitted.

“So,” David said. “Do you agree to leave Euan alone?”

Balfour’s smile died. David thought he was going to refuse. But when Balfour finally spoke, he surprised him. “All right. I’ll leave MacLennan alone, and I’ll find some way to put Hugh out of his reach. Does that satisfy you?”

“Yes, it does. Thank you.” The words were heartfelt. He wondered if Balfour realised how much.

They fell into silence, the sound of the ticking clock on the mantel the only noise in the room. It might have been uncomfortable with someone else. Not with Balfour, though.