Siren

Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

 

“Witherspoon, you blackguard!”

 Bloody hell! I must be dreaming. James closed his eyes for a second, praying the figure of Phoebe’s elder brother was but a figment of his imagination. He snapped them back open, gaze instantly keying in on a murderous Edward Landon.James suppressed a groan. This was a stroke of supremely bad luck.

“I should kill you,” the duke growled, grinding to a halt. “How dare you come to my sister’s cottage after mistreating her so?”

James squared off with the arrogant duke. “I’m here to marry her, Corsair.  I want to make things right.”

Edward sneered. “I would never allow Phoebe to align herself with you. I’ve made all the necessary arrangements, and my sister will emerge from this debacle unscathed despite your abuse.” He raked a superior leer the length of James. “I can appreciate that you’re making an attempt to be honorable,” he said grudgingly, disdain dripping from his tone, “and as such, I will grant you this one opportunity to leave and never return.”

Rankled by the duke’s condescending attitude, James strove to maintain his cool and state his case. “Your Grace, I love her. I realize that—”

“Enough,” Edward spat, smoky eyes smoldering with anger. “My patience is wearing thin. I don’t wish to make this situation any more difficult on my sister than necessary. Now go slink back into whatever bottle you crawled out of and leave us in peace.” He turned away, dismissing James once and for all.

Anger mounting, James cracked the knuckles in his left hand, itching to plunge a fist into the arrogant Duke’s face. “You have no right to take my child from me.”

Edward pivoted back to face him, seething. “I have every right. My sister—”

“Your sister would have eloped with me in a second last spring.”

Corsair’s lip curled with anger and menace. “I should call you out.”

“You’d lose,” James goaded.

“You son of a bitch.” Hands balled into fists, Edward charged him.

James knew he deserved a brotherly beating after everything that had happened with Phoebe, but at the moment, he didn’t particularly care. All of the pent up hurt and uncertainty boiled over. James wanted to pound something, and, duke or otherwise, Edward Landon’s pretty mug would do just fine.

Edward cocked a fist and let it fly.

James nimbly ducked the first swing and tackled him to the ground. Rage pumped through his veins as he fisted Edward’s collar in his hands. “Corsair, you bastard, you should have told me she was pregnant.”