Siren

Nineteen

“To what end, Wtherspoon?” Edward’s fist slammed into James’s jaw. “If you really wanted her you would have eloped with her before sailing to Brussels.”

James slammed Edward into the dirt. “I should have.”

“Stop!” Phoebe cried.

James scarcely heard as he released the rage pulsing through him, and continued grappling with Corsair. Edward proved to be considerably stronger and more skilled as a fighter than James would have expected for a spoiled duke, and Edward landed a few harsh blows though he never managed to gain the upper hand.

“Don’t!” Phoebe’s voice sliced through the air. “Nicholas, help! Stop them before they kill each other.”

James had Edward pinned solidly beneath him when a set of burly arms snaked beneath his shoulders, dragging him bodily off of Edward.

“Stand down!” Nick Collins’s firm command battled the red haze consuming James’s mind.

Breathing heavily, Edward staggered to his feet, eyes blazing. Blood dripped from his split lip, and if the man had held a weapon at that moment James had no doubt he would have used it. “Don’t order me to stand down! That son of a bitch murdered my brother and ruined my sister.”

“I did not kill, Patrick,” James growled.

“You deserve to be shot where you stand.”

“Then why don’t you do it,” James spat.

Edward raked a seething, disdainful glare the length of him, making it clear the young duke believed James unfit to breathe the same air as an aristocrat of his caliber. “Because you’re not worth it.”

That was the final straw. Something within James snapped. The man always itching for a drink, trouble, and a good fight—not necessarily in that order—resurfaced. Eyes narrowed, he strained against Nick’s hold. “Or maybe you’re just a coward.”

 “Shut up, James.” Nick shook him. Hard.

James ignored his friend completely. “You know nothing, Corsair. You—”

Phoebe dashed between them, full on fear lacing her pretty face. She held her arms out, one palm flattened in Edward’s direction and the other raised toward James in the universal gesture of halt!.

Shaken momentarily from his single-minded rage, James dragged in a breath and glanced at his surroundings. Sarah stood by the house, holding the reins to Edward’s horse, trying to keep the spooked animal calm, while Mrs. Condon and Elizabeth huddled in the doorway with sheet white expressions.

Edward’s lethal glare turned onto his sister. “What is the meaning of this Phoebe?”

“Edward, please calm down.”

“Did you invite this wastrel here?”