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No.
No, no, no.
“Sloane, what the hell do you think you’re doing here.” Her brother’s booming voice echoed into the high heavy beams of the ballroom. A command. Not a question.
Her jaw dropped, her face steaming with a rush of blood into her forehead. “Lachlan—”
Reiner stepped in front of her, cutting her words and blocking her view of the impending storm that was her older brother.
Reiner swept his hand out over the silent crush of guests. “Go.”
A murmur snaked through the crowd, a few people making a half-hearted effort to leave the ballroom.
“Go.” Reiner’s voice thundered over the cluster.
Silently, people turned and disappeared out the various exits of the ballroom. Sloane shifted to stand adjacent to Reiner. It took minutes for all the people to amble to the exits while Reiner and Sloane and Lachlan and his band of nine men stood frozen in place, staring at each other.
The second the footman closed the last door of the ballroom, Lachlan stepped toward Sloane and reached for her arm. “I’m taking you out of here this instant.” His rage had only swelled while people exited the room.
Reiner moved in front of her again, blocking her brother from grabbing her arm. “You’re not taking Sloane anywhere.”
Lachlan’s head snapped back, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Reiner. “No?” He drew the one word out with lethal intent and then took another step forward.
Her brother was huge, but Reiner was just as tall. Just as deadly.
The two men stood, toe-to-toe, murder in their eyes.
Sloane jumped from behind Reiner and shoved an arm between the two men. “For the blasted devil’s sake—you two are acting like deranged ogres.”
“And you’re planning to lie with the man that killed your brother.” The bitter words fumed from Lachlan’s mouth.
She shoved her body between them with a grunt, forcing each to take a step backward. She pinned her look on her brother. “We were misinformed. I was misinformed,” she whispered in a hiss.
Lachlan didn’t look down at her, his lethal stare above her head focused on Reiner. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sloane. I don’t know what he did to get you here. To get you to agree to this, but you’re not in your bloody well right mind and I’m taking you home.”
“Dammit, Lachlan, no, you’re not.”
Lachlan grabbed her arm.
In a flash, Reiner had his dagger pulled, the tip pressed to Lachlan’s neck.
The swoosh of drawing steel filled the air as the nine Scots standing behind Lachlan pulled their swords, lifting them.
Her screech piercing the air, Sloane shoved Reiner backward while twisting her arm free from her brother. “You blasted idiots. Stop. Just stop. Both of you.”
She stepped to the side, glaring at the band of Scotsmen ready to battle. “Dom, go. I’m alive and well and not here under duress as you can obviously see. Get the men out of here.” Her glare swung to her brother. “I want to talk to Lach alone.”
Domnall nodded, sheathing his sword. “Aye, lass.” He turned to the rest of the men and motioned toward the door. They all spun about, and with boots echoing against the wooden planks of the gleaming floor, filed out of the ballroom through the main entrance.
She waited until the heavy ancient oak doors were secured behind them before she turned back to Reiner. “You as well.”
“Me? What?” Reiner shook his head. “If you think I’m going to leave you alone with him, you’re mad, Sloane.”
“He’s my brother, Reiner. I will be fine. But you—you need to go as well.”
The hard set of her husband’s jaw told her he wasn’t about to move an inch.
“Please, Reiner.”
