Pistols at Dawn

Pistols at Dawn

The Intrepid Heroines Series

Book Four

by

Andrea Pickens

Award-winning Author

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ISBN: 978-1-61417-530-8

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter 1

A metallic click caused Marcus Fitzherbert Greeley, the Earl of Killingworth to look up from his ledgers.

"Who's there?" he called sharply.

No answer sounded in reply, but after a moment the draperies stirred and a dark shape emerged from the midnight shadows. As the cloaked figure approached his desk, candlelight glinted off the steel of an ancient pistol.

"Stand up," came the curt command.

The case clock ticked off a second or two before the earl put down his pen and rose.

"Take off your coat."

He didn't move, save for a slight twitch of his raven brows.

"You think a mere female incapable of pulling the trigger? I assure you, I should like nothing better, if you give me the slightest provocation." The young lady—for her speech, if not her actions, indicated that she was indeed a lady—stepped closer. "And in case you are wondering, I am accorded to be a decent shot."

Marcus slowly shrugged out of the elegant navy superfine garment and let it drop to the Oriental carpet.

"Now your cravat and waistcoat."

He frowned, but his fingers loosened the folds of starched linen, then worked free the buttons of the striped silk. The items joined the crumpled coat.

A wave of steel indicated for him to go on. "Your shirt as well."

The earl looked for a moment as if to refuse. However, after a brief hesitation, he undid the fastenings and tugged it over his head. The flickering candles cast a ripple of light and dark over the muscled shoulders and the chiseled planes of his bare chest. A glint of what might have been grim humor flashed in his amber eyes.

"Do you wish for me to go on?" he asked coolly, his lithe fingers openly toying with the flap of his breeches. "I am not unused to females seeking out my attention, but this is a rather imaginative approach. Tell me, are you as creative in other techniques as well?"

On seeing his assailant's eyes widen, he gave a curt laugh. "Or perchance you have been sent as some prank by Allenby—though I would not have given him credit for being quite so clever." One button slipped out of its slot. "But whatever your game is, sweeting, don't you think it's time you joined in the spirit of things and removed something as well?"

"Hold your tongue!" The sharp order, more shrill than sure, cut off his words. "I am not interested in any of your lecherous suggestions, sir." The barrel of the gun wavered slightly as her gaze slid along the dusting of dark curls that ran from his breastbone to navel. "I've seen enough. You may put on your clothes—you are not the one."

"How disappointing to hear it. Things were just getting interesting," he murmured softly. "A good deal more interesting than the blasted ledgers I was wrestling with."

She ignored the tone of mocking irony. "What other gentlemen are part of this household?"

"So, having found my flesh wanting, you wish to disrobe someone else?" The earl's lips curled in a sardonic smile. "With all due modesty, I doubt you will find the footmen—"

"I warn you, do not trifle with me!" Her face went rigid with fury as she raised her gaze. "I am quite capable of pulling the trigger, Lord Killingworth. And there is no doubt that you would deserve it just as much as the one I seek."

His eyes narrowed. "Why?" he demanded. He usually had no trouble shrugging off slurs to his character, but somehow her note of scorn struck a raw nerve. "I imagine you do not threaten to put a period put to a man's existence without a good reason."

The young lady took a deliberate step forward and aimed the pistol at his heart. But the swagger did not quite reach her eyes. "It is
I
who will ask the questions! Now once again, what other gentlemen are in this house?"

Marcus regarded the weapon calmly. "Surely you do not think a shot will go unnoticed?"

"I—I have another pistol."

"Ah—but I have considerably more than one servant."

"I shall count to three, sir." Her finger tightened on the trigger. "
One
."

"If I am to shuffle off this mortal coil, may I at least be permitted to put my shirt back on? I should like to meet my Maker wearing a bit more than when I entered this world." He gave a slight cough. "Besides, I believe you left the window open and it's getting rather chilly in here."

"I imagine it will be a good deal warmer where you are headed," she snapped. However, a curt nod indicated that he might retrieve the cast-off garment.

"
Two
," she added, as he bent to pick it up.