Page 81 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“In here,” Eve called.

Lord Rushton burst into the room with Lord Somerset close behind. They skidded to a halt.

“What in God’s name—” Lord Somerset took a step forward, but stopped when Lord Rushton snapped out a sentence in—was that Gaelic?

The stranger responded with a clipped sentence and nodded toward Eve and Grace. Lord Rushton whirled. His brows rose while his eyes dropped to her towel-clad breasts. Eve resisted the urge to melt into the wall.

“Miss Crenshaw,” he began, as the man took a step forward.

“Halt or I will shoot,” Eve warned.

Lord Rushton’s gaze remained fixed on her face. “I do believe she means it, Ash.”

Eve blinked. “You know him?”

“Madam, do you intend to shoot every male in the MacLean family while scantily dressed? Though I’m not complaining—about you being scantily clad, I mean.” He glanced at Grace. “I see your sister is yet again parading around in her night clothes.”

“What?” Grace said.

Lord Somerset stripped off his coat and, in two steps, reached Grace’s side and swung it around her shoulders. He yanked the lapel closed over her breasts. Eve suddenly realized her towel had slackened. She caught the fabric as it began to slide downward. Lord Rushton stepped toward her and she reflexively swung the revolver in his direction. He lunged in unison with Grace’s cry, and seized Eve’s arm, shoving the gun upwards. Cool air washed over the curve of her breasts, then she struck the wall, Lord Rushton pressed against her body, the towel barely covering her nipples.

He held her wrist pinned to the wall as he stared down at her. “You aren’t satisfied with shooting me once?”

“She shot you?” the other man blurted.

Lord Rushton gave her a questioning look and Eve was suddenly aware of his body crushing hers. Embarrassment rolled over her and she twisted in an effort to push him away.

“First the revolver, if you don’t mind.”

He reached with his free hand and disengaged the weapon from her fingers, then extended the weapon, butt first, to Lord Somerset, who took it. Lord Rushton released her wrist, then stepped back and pulled the corner of her towel from her grasp.

“My lord!” Eve grabbed for the fabric, but he cinched the towel more tightly around her with a hard tug, then stuffed the corner piece between the towel and her ribs.

Eve shoved him. For an instant, he stood immovable as stone, then stepped back.

“What is going on?” she demanded.

“Forgive me,” he said. “Ladies, may I present Ash MacLean. My brother.”

*****

Miss Crenshaw’s brows furrow in confusion and Erroll felt as if he’d been hit with a fist in the belly when she said, “Your brother? But I thought—” She broke off.

“You thought my brother perished at war?” he replied smoothly. “That would be my younger brother, Val. This is my elder brother, Ash.”

“Elder brother?” Her mouth parted in surprise and, if Erroll wasn’t mistaken, understanding flickered across her face. So she was aware that Ash was his bastard brother.

“Of course,” she quickly said.

A long pause drew out.

Ash broke the silence. “May I have my revolver?” He extended his hand toward Somerset.

Erroll startled. “Your revolver?” He nodded for the viscount to return Ash’s gun, then said to Miss Eve Crenshaw. “Madam, you are a wonder. I will want to hear the story of how you managed to disarm my brother and turn his gun on him.”

“Just as I will want to hear how she shot you,” Ash said.

“If I were you, Ash, I would be more concerned about the brute in the hallway. If you hurt him, she will put a bullet through you one way or another.”