Finally he spotted his jacket. "Get the hell out of my way."

"I'll whip you myself!"

"Temper, temper, wench." He faced her with a sardonic expression. "Now I'mreally no' going to fuck you."

She screeched, flying at him, nails raking down his face before he could shove her from him. He pressed his sleeve to his cheek and saw the crimson, stark against the white linen. "You goddamned bitch! You doona ken what you're provoking."

He headed for the door, but she beat on his back, screaming, "Do you know what I could have done to you?"

When Ethan whirled around, her face was streaming with tears, her eyes alight with fury. "Touch me again, and I'll break my rule about no' slapping crazed bitches who canna take no for an answer."

"Do it, then!" Had her expression flashed with excitement?

To scare her so she'd leave him be, he made as if to backhand her—

The door crashed open.

There stood a gray-haired, enraged man.Must be the aging husband , Ethan thought with a tired exhalation as he lowered his hand.Pistols at dawn and another death on my hands.

"He tried to force himself on me!" the wife shrieked, tears still streaming.

Ethan swung his gaze on her. "Are you mad, woman? You invited me here!"

More men filled the doorway, hardened ones—henchmen. A blond giant flanked the old husband, looking almost more enraged.

"Never!" she cried. "He must have followed me home from the inn tonight."

The husband narrowed his eyes on Ethan's face. Ethan swiped a hand over his cheek. "Oh, bloody hell," he said wearily. "She scratched me when I wanted to leave." Though Ethan was still drunk, even he recognized how ridiculous that sounded.

"Sylvie, are you injured?"The husband's grasping for this like a lifeline.

"You canna be serious. Can you no' see she's lying?" Ethan made a disgusted sound. "The witch asked me here, I vow it—"