asked, in the same tone of mild concern he’d heard his da use now and then on his mam or Uncle Jamie. Evidently it was in fact the right tone to take with a Fraser about to go berserk, for William breathed like a grampus for a moment or two, then got himself under control.
“I ask your pardon, sir,” he said, back stiff as a stick of rock maple. “That was unforgivable. I shall . . . leave you. I—Miss Hunter . . . I—” He turned, stumbling a little, and that gave Rachel time to dart round in front of Ian.
“William!” Her face was full of distress. “What is it? Have I—”
He looked down at her, his face contorted, but shook his head.
“You haven’t done anything,” he said, with an obvious effort. “You . . . you could never do anything that—” He swung round toward Ian, fist clenched on his sword. “But you, you fucking bas—you son of a bitch! Cousin!”
“Oh,” said Ian stupidly. “Ye know, then.”
“Yes, I bloody know! You could have fucking told me!”
“Know what?” Rachel looked from him to William and back again.
“Don’t you bloody tell her!” William snapped.
“Don’t be silly,” Rachel said reasonably. “Of course he’ll tell me, the minute we’re alone. Does thee not wish to tell me thyself? I think perhaps thee might not trust Ian to say it aright.” Her eye rested on Ian’s lip, and her own mouth twitched. Ian might have taken offense at this, save that William’s distress was so apparent.
“It isna really a disgrace—” he began, but then stepped hastily back as William’s clenched fist drew back.
“You think not?” William was so furious, his voice was nearly inaudible. “To discover that I am—am—the . . . the get of a Scottish criminal? That I am a fucking bastard?”
Despite his resolve to be patient, Ian felt his own dander start to rise.
“Criminal, forbye!” he snapped. “Any man might be proud to be the son of Jamie Fraser!”
“Oh,” said Rachel, forestalling William’s next heated remark. “That.”
“What?” He glared down at her. “What the devil do you mean, ‘that’?”
“We thought it must be the case, Denny and I.” She lifted one shoulder, though keeping a close watch on William, who looked as if he were about to go off like a twelve-pound mortar. “But we supposed that thee didn’t wish the matter talked about. I didn’t know that thee—how could thee not have known?” she asked curiously. “The resemblance—”
“Fuck the resemblance!”
Ian forgot Rachel and hit William on the head with a double-fisted thump that knocked him to his knees, then kicked him in the stomach. Had the kick landed where he’d meant it to, it would have finished the matter right there, but William was a good deal faster than Ian expected him to be. He twisted sideways, caught Ian’s foot, and yanked. Ian hit the ground on one elbow, rolled up, and got hold of William’s ear. He was dimly aware of Rachel screaming and was momentarily sorry for it, but the relief of fighting was too great to think of anything else, and she disappeared as his fury surged.
There was blood in his mouth and his ears were ringing, but he had one hand on William’s throat and the other stabbing forked for his eyes, when hands seized him by the shoulders and jerked him off his cousin’s squirming body.
He shook his head to clear it, panting and pulling at whoever was holding him—there were two of the villains. That earned him a thump in the ribs that knocked out what little breath he had.
William wasn’t doing much better. He got to his feet, wiping the back of his hand under his nose, which was bleeding profusely. He glanced at the result and grimaced in disgust, wiping the hand on his coat.
“Take him,” he said, half breathless but in control of himself. One of his eyes was swelling shut, but the other gave Ian a look of straightforward bloodlust—and, despite the circumstances, Ian was once more startled at seeing one of Uncle Jamie’s expressions on another face.
There was a thunderous growl from Rollo. Rachel had the big dog’s scruff twisted tight, but Ian kent well enough that she couldn’t hold him if he decided to savage William. “Fuirich, a cu!” he said, with all the authority he could summon. The soldiers would kill Rollo without a second thought if he lunged for William’s throat. The dog eased back down on his haunches but stayed tensed, his lips drawn