“You’re welcome to leave as well, sir,” Hughes growled.
“You see, I too have been sent away from Meadowcroft’s door time and again,” the man continued as if the barkeep hadn’t spoken. “Don’t fret over your empty purse. It isn’t money I want from you, rather a brief word.”
Hughes stepped forward. “Good day to you, I say.”
“You were right,” Jane murmured under her breath. “We should go.”
“My apologies, Miss Langston. I’ve no idea what’s come over people this day,” Mrs. Hughes cried, while Mr. Hughes crossed his arms over his broad chest and glowered at the man.
The stranger rose to his feet and slipped his glasses back on with a sorrowful shake of his head. “It is not well done of me to speak to the young lady with such familiarity, is it? Quite right. I’ll be on my way then.”
Everyone in the room expressed surprise at his easy capitulation. Their eyes widened further when he pulled a palm-sized pistol from his pocket and leveled it at them. “After Miss Langston introduces me to her friend, that is. I’m afraid I must insist.”
Pain shot through Piper’s icy fingers. Whether it was because she clutched Jane’s too hard or Jane gripped hers, she wasn’t certain. Regardless, it was the only thing grounding her to the reality of the moment.
Her suspicion hadn’t been wrong. It had been directed at the wrong man. Staring down the dark hole in the barrel of the gun, she swayed where she stood. Her pulse raced and a droning buzz filled her mind. Gad, she hated having her worst fears become reality.
“Perhaps we should all adjourn to your parlor?” he suggested politely enough. “You have cake, you said?”
“Now see here,” Hughes huffed.
“No, you see here,” the stranger countered, lifting the pistol expressively. “Right here, you see?”
“Och, what do ye expect to accomplish wi’ such a wee toy?”
Piper’s heart raced harder and faster at the sight of Connor silhouetted in the open door. Hands braced on the top of the door frame, he leaned forward nonchalantly to peer within.
“There is naught here to concern you,” the gunman snapped. “Move along.”
“There’s everything here to concern me.” Connor rocked down and forward as if swinging from a tree branch, ducking under the short door to step inside. He was even taller than Wilkes. “Ye’ve a friend of mine at the other end of that wee croaker, ye see? I dinnae care a whit for the sight of it.”
He took a few audacious steps into the tavern toward the man, hands casually tucked into his trouser pockets. Eyes trained on the threat. From her position, Piper could see the muscle twitching in his tense jaw, but not the rest of his face.
The stranger’s face, she could. And well enough to read his wariness and see a bead of sweat trail down his brow. Connor was much taller than both Hughes and the gunman. Hughes was far more brawny, yet it was clearly Connor who the man considered the greater threat. As Connor hardly came across as the fearsome sort, Piper wondered at his response. The gun wavered, arcing ever so slightly toward Connor before returning to Jane.
“Miss Langston,” Connor inquired without turning his head. “Are ye quite all right?”
That he didn’t ask her hurt Piper’s feelings for a moment, before she realized he inquired about them both without speaking her name.
Hughes took a sidestep to the right, placing himself more fully between the barrel of the gun and Jane. “She’s well enough.”
Connor’s jaw shifted and Piper got the impression that he was smiling. Or perhaps not. Why ever would he smile at a time like this?
The stranger’s severe expression sagged and his hand began to tremble. “You find this amusing?” he spat, proving her initial theory right.
“After a fashion, aye. I’ve nine brothers, most larger than I, yet I’ve never taken up a weapon to even the odds.” Connor’s shoulder hunched then fell. “Turning a gun on helpless females? Shameful, but then ye’re a wee fellow wi’ a desperate need to compensate for it, aye?”
The gunman’s face mottled then grew as red as a newly harvested apple. With a vile curse, he swung the pistol to Connor and held it there.
“Ah, there’s a good fellow.” Connor held his arms wide as if welcoming the threat. “Now I’m amused.”
Quick as a wolf setting upon his prey, Connor leapt forward. Feinting left, he dropped as a gunshot rang out. A cry of alarm escaped Piper, as one did from both Jane and Mrs. Hughes. Connor crouched and launched himself in the opposite direction, as the man fired again. This time, Connor rolled onto one shoulder and sprang up with a bounce not two feet away from the gunman. His hand shot out like a viper strike, grabbing the pistol around the barrel and dragging it—and the stranger’s arm—to the side.
“Ye should have brought a bigger gun,” Connor growled into the man’s face before drawing back his hand and ramming his fist, gun and all, into the man’s nose.
His bellow of pain drowned out the ladies’ vocal distress. Hands to her lips, Piper stared as Connor punched the stranger repeatedly until he fell to his knees, palms cupped over his bloodied nose.
Rough hands caught her shoulders, and she flung up a defensive arm knocking Albert in the jaw. The groom rolled his eyes as if he’d been bothered by a pesky bug. “Come, m’lady,” he commanded in a low voice. “Through the back.”
