Christmas Candles by Mary Jo Putney

Author:Mary Jo Putney [Putney, Mary Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-11-22T18:00:00+00:00

Though Anthony’s mind was stunned by Brand’s attack, years of fencing practice saved him. As Cecilia shrieked, Anthony knocked aside his cousin’s blade. Retreating, he exclaimed, “Christ, Brand! Have you gone mad?”

“It’s you who are mad, to meet my wife in my own house.” Brand attacked again, this time controlled and far more dangerous than in his initial lunge.

With a shriek of clashing steel, Anthony countered well enough to save himself from injury, but this couldn’t last long. Brand had always been a better swordsman, and now he was in a blind rage.

Hearing the door open, Anthony spared a swift glance, hoping to see the duke or one of the duchesses. They were the only people Brand might heed. Instead, Emma entered. Christ, she was the last person he wanted to see. If he was going to be spitted like a lamb for roasting, he did not want his wife to have to witness it.

In the instant that his attention was divided, Brand drove in again, slashing at his opponent’s sword arm. Anthony managed to block his cousin’s blade, but only just. The sleeve of his shirt was ripped from elbow to wrist. Knowing he could not retreat forever, Anthony stood his ground, fighting back furiously. He managed to battle Brand to a standstill as their blades shrilled together with metallic fury.

Then heavy folds of fabric whipped violently between them, trapping the foils and knocking them downward. With amazement, Anthony saw that Emma had wrenched one of the great tapestries from the wall and slammed it over the dueling weapons. She looked like a furious Valkyrie.

“Bloody hell!” Brand sneezed from the dust released by the tapestry. “For God’s sake, Emma, stay out of this, or you’ll get hurt.”

Not moving, Emma snapped, “What the devil is this all about?”

“It’s none of your affair.” Recovering from the shock, Brand wrenched his weapon free from the heavy fabric and prepared to resume fighting.

“None of my affair when you’re trying to kill my husband?” she exclaimed. “Men! Of course this is my affair.”

Deciding it was time to take a hand, Anthony hurled his foil away. The sword flew across the gallery and stabbed into the wall about a yard above the floor, then hung there, quivering. “Enough, Brand! I won’t fight you any more, not when I haven’t the faintest idea why you’re so outraged.”

For a terrifying moment, it appeared as if Brand might renounce a lifetime of gentlemanly training and attack an unarmed man. Then Emma grabbed the cowering Cecilia’s hand. “Come on, Cecy, make yourself useful.”

She hauled her smaller cousin between the men so that the two women formed a barrier. Then, with a practiced schoolteacher voice, she ordered, “Brand, explain yourself.”

He looked mulish, which at least was an improvement over homicidal. Since he seemed unwilling to speak, Anthony said helpfully, “From what Cecilia told me, Brand suspects me of having an affair with her.”

Emma’s face tightened, but her voice was calm when she asked, “Are you?”

“Don’t be absurd!” he retorted. “Until yesterday, I hadn’t laid eyes on Cecilia in nine years.

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