Page 54 of Provoked

But David knew—and more, that the only way to stop Euan’s bullet from hitting Hugh was to put something else in the way.

Balfour’s attention was all on Euan now. It only took a shrug to displace the heavy hand from David’s shoulder and move smoothly in front of the kneeling man.

“David!”

He didn’t miss the shock and fear in Balfour’s voice. Nor the unfamiliar use of his own Christian name. He didn’t turn, though. He didn’t dare look away from the man in front of him.

“Get out of the way, Davy,” Euan said, his voice soft and dangerous.

“Do as he says!” Balfour added forcefully.

David ignored Balfour, his gaze fixed on Euan. “I can’t,” he said. He wondered if either of them realised how serious he was. “I caused this. And I won’t have a man’s death on my conscience.”

Euan’s arm stayed where it was, the barrel of the pistol pointing at David now. “I don’t want to shoot you. You’ve been a good friend to me, till now.”

David gave a tremulous smile, afraid despite his best efforts. “Then don’t. Don’t shoot me. Just do as Balfour said and leave. We won’t stop you.”

“You don’t understand,” Euan continued. “I can’t allow you to stand in my way.”

David shook his head. “No,youdon’t understand. It’s like Balfour said—you’ve only got one shot. You leave now or you shoot me, but you’re not getting Lees.”

“David—” Balfour’s voice was hoarse. “For Christ’s sake, step away!”

Euan’s eyes blazed. “Listen to him. Stand aside. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Without shifting his gaze from Euan, David slowly raised the knife Balfour had given him and tossed it away. It skittered across the floor to the other side of the room. David raised his other hand then, both palms facing outwards.

“I’m not making you do anything,” he said, his voice trembling. “It’s your choice whether to shoot me. But I won’t be moving aside. I can’t.”

Euan’s gaze shifted over David’s shoulder to the man behind him. He looked despairing and angry. At the very end of his rope.

“I’ll never forgive you for this,” he whispered. “This was my only chance.”

For a moment, David thought the lad was going to do it, that he was going to fire the bullet into David’s body. He imagined the impact of it, caving his chest in, shattering bones, burning through flesh, and he began to tremble.

Euan’s hand on the pistol stayed steady, his body the very picture of certainty and action. His face, though, told a more complex story. Grief was there, and hatred for the man who knelt behind David—and hesitancy.

When at last he spoke again, his voice was devoid of expression. “Come here, then.”

“David, don’t.” Balfour’s voice was firm, commanding.

David ignored him. “Cover Hugh,” he said shortly and walked forward, his hands still raised.

A few paces brought him close enough to Euan that another inch would have the barrel of the gun pressing into his chest.

“Turn round.”

David obeyed, noting with relief that Balfour had done as David had asked. He stood in front of Hugh now, his own pistol trained on Euan and David. He looked angry, his eyes flashing dark fire at David, his lips pressed tightly together.

An arm snaked round David’s shoulders and pulled him back against Euan’s chest. He could feel the prickle of the other man’s beard growth at his ear.

“I believe you mean what you say about letting me go,” Euan murmured, pressing the pistol against David’s temple, “but I don’t trust your friend there. So I need to keep you with me for now. We’re going to walk backwards to the door.”

David nodded, and they began to pace awkwardly backwards.

“You two,” Euan said, raising his voice as they drew close to the doorway. “Stay exactly where you are. If you move so much as an inch, I’ll put a bullet in his head.”

Balfour and Hugh both nodded. Balfour wore a grim, unhappy look.