Page 159 of A Story of Love

“Get off your horse.” Fast did not raise his voice, but his menacing tone was enough to raise goosepimples on Lori’s skin.

Dorian frowned. “What did you just—”

“Get. Off,” Fast growled, closing the distance between himself and the other man in a few long strides.

Dorian laughed. “I’ll do no such—aaarrrgh!”

Fast moved with the lightening-fast speed that Lori had seen him display on more than one occasion and grabbed Dorian’s horse by the bridle with one hand while his other hand closed around the younger man’s booted ankle, and—in a show of brute strength that was both awe-inspiring and arousing—he yanked Dorian out of his saddle.

The horse reared and whinnied, and chaos erupted. For a few moments there seemed to be a dozen horses and men as the other men struggled to keep their mounts from bolting.

But even in the midst of the pandemonium, Fast did not release his grip on Dorian, who was frantically clawing at his saddle.

“Move back, Lorelei! Now!” Fast barked, shaking Lori from her stunned gaping.

She didn’t hesitate to obey. Not only was it safer away from the flailing man and rearing horse, but it provided her with an excellent view of Dorian hitting the path hard enough to send up a puff of dirt.

He yelped piteously as Fast grabbed the back of his clawhammer coat and dragged him to his feet. Before Dorian could catch his breath, Fast caught him by the throat and pinned against a nearby tree.

He easily held the thrashing peer. “Choose your second, boy, and I’ll meet you—”

“No duels!” Lori shouted. “You promised me, Fast,” she reminded him, scrambling toward her husband and grabbing the arm that wasn’t holding Dorian in a death grip.

Fast glanced down at her, his expression shifting from murderous to baffled annoyance. “Surely I did not say—”

“You promised, me,” she repeated, the words barely able to get past the lump in her throat.

He must have tightened his grip on Dorian’s neck because the younger man gave a strangled yelp, his limbs spasming.

“Fast, please. He is not worth it,” Lori begged quietly.

Her husband’s chest swelled as he inhaled and then held his breath a moment before exhaling in a noisy rush. “Fine,” he snapped, and then turned back to Dorian. “I promised my wife that I wouldn’t engage in any duels.”

Hope leapt in Dorian’s bulging, watering eyes.

Fast crushed it immediately by taking a step closer and saying through bared teeth, “That means I will just have to kill you here and now.”

“No killing either!” Lori yelled, yanking on his arm as if to pull him away. Naturally he did not yield so much as an inch.

“I don’t recall promising that,” he shot back.

“Please, Fast… it is—it is my wedding day.”

Finally, after what felt like years, he grumbled and released Dorian, who slid to the ground for the second time in less than five minutes, holding his throat and coughing.

“No killing. Today,” Fast amended. He looked as if he was going to turn around but then suddenly lunged for the other man. “But maybe you would like to challenge me to a duel? I didn’t promise not to accept a challenge.”

Dorian cowered away, muttering something too soft for Lori to hear.

“What’s that you say?” Fast demanded, grabbing him around the neck again and jerking him to a sitting position. “Speak up!”

Dorian’s voice was squeaky, but loud, “I’m terribly sorry for my behavior, my lady!”

My lady?

It took Lori a second to realize that was her. Lori smiled. She was Lady Severn.

She slid a hand around her husband’s bulging biceps and said, “Please, Fast. I want to go back to the vicarage.”