James had little doubt that the man had repented of his actions; that if Jilly, in her benevolence, could be induced to forgive him his foolishness, he would spend the rest of his life devoted to her happiness.
James intended to make her suffer in ways that Kirkland could never have done. So why did he feel such a profound rage toward the other man simply because he had hurt Jilly in the past, and with a far lesser sin than James himself had in store for her?
It didn’t bear consideration, and James was certain that, upon reflection, he would not be comfortable with the answer.
Instead he leveled a severe look at Kirkland. The sort he had perfected early in life, the sort designed to make other men feel inferior.
“Jilly,” he said, “is mine.”
Kirkland, to his credit, did not quail beneath the tightly-leashed anger in the glare that James skewered him with. “That’s for her to decide,” he said, lifting his chin.
“She will choose me,” James replied. “And it will be without your interference. You would do well to take yourself back to Scotland. She does not want to see you. Good God, Kirkland—she fled to me to ensure you would not approach her.”
“Then I will hear it from her directly,” Kirkland said. He downed the remainder of his brandy and set his glass aside.
“You will hear it from me and accept it,” James snarled. “I promised her only last evening that I would protect her from you. You will keep well clear of her.”
“Or what?” Kirkland sneered. “Pistols at dawn?”
“Yes.” James hardly recognized the rough, raspy voice that emerged from his throat. By God, he had experienced a strange thrill at the sarcastic suggestion of a duel. The satisfaction he would derive from plugging a bullet into Kirkland would outweigh the consequences.
At his easy acceptance, Kirkland blanched, as if he had just realized that James was not a man to be trifled with. He had overstepped, expecting James to have been posturing, and had found out to his utter horror that James had been entirely sincere. “A duel would ruin her,” he said. “Everyone would know. There would be no saving her reputation from it.”
“Yes,” James said, his voice cutting, calculating. “She would have to marry—and if she were forced to choose, which of us do you imagine she would accept? The man who abandoned her, or the man who protected her?”
Kirkland remained silent, his lips flattened into a grim line. For a long moment he did not speak, but his eyes had gone dark and shadowed. He had probably lived for this, James thought, since his wife’s passing. He had likely thought of nothing but returning to London, seizing the opportunity to woo Jilly back into his arms. Only he had never expected to find himself in competition with a duke.
Kirkland shook his head as if to clear it. “I will remain in London,” he said.