Heirly Ever After, Vernon, Magan [best thriller novels to read .txt] 📗

chest. Without the tailored suit, in his gym shorts and T-shirt, it took away his intimidating look. Stripped him of his armor, so to say.

“So did I,” he said with that same stiff gaze he always had. He then picked up another blade, adjusting the grip in his hand.

“Do you have some kind of honing device or did an alarm go off alerting ye I was here, so you had to come and protect your swords?” I asked, running my thumb over the notch of the handle.

He let out a breath through his nose, but no smile or even the hint of a laugh came. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d go to the gym. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here.”

I held up the blade, finding a smile crossing my own face. “So you weren’t coming to challenge me to a duel?”

“Now why would I do that?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

With the weight of the blade in my hand, I focused on that sensation, giving me the strength to bring the words forward.

“I don’t know, seems like yer a little intimidated,” I said. “Even though you were technically the one to invite me here, you still seem threatened by a MacWebley.”

This time he did laugh as he shook his head. But there was no humor to it. More like pity. “Jacob, I’m merely trying to understand you. So is the rest of my family. It’s been a long time since anyone has even uttered the name of our Scottish relatives.”

“So you obviously didn’t know we’re the better ones in battle.” I raised my sword and with a flick of my wrist knocked my blade to his. The cool metal slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor.

His face stayed stone still as he reached down for the sword. But I was quicker, lurching forward and stepping on his blade then holding my own barely a hair from his throat.

Looking up, his steel blue eyes weren’t filled with fear or concern. But something else cold was behind them.

“Like I said, the better swordsmen are the Scots.” I smirked, a new rush of adrenaline coming over me. I had him exactly where I wanted him. If this were a real duel, one breath and I’d win. It would all be over.

My cousin then took my one beat of glee and gripped my arm. His other hand moving to the handle of his own sword, knocking it up to his hand as he stood facing me. His sword was now an inch from my chest.

I sucked in a hard breath, staring down at the blade then up at the now slight smirk forming on Gavin’s face.

“Ah, but a little bit arrogant, aren’t you? One should never take their eye off their opponent or their opponent’s weapon.”

That darn smug smirk.

Arrogant?

This was from the family who’d ignored us for years. There was nothing arrogant about the MacWebleys. We had nothing, and when we’d reached out? The Webleys had turned away. There was no way I was letting this naff take any more.

Bending to the side, I ducked from his blade then held up my own, the metal clinking against his as he blocked me.

“I knew exactly where I was going, dear cousin,” I said.

“Really?” He threw out another jab, and I blocked it. “Then where have you been going here?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I held up my sword, but he took my moment of weakness to get in another cross that I only blocked by a breath.

“We were both looking up the same documents in the library. Searching for the history of the MacWebleys. I know all about the financial trouble, thanks to a little thing called the internet.”

My breath caught in my throat as a chill crept over me. But I didn’t let my guard down, blocking his jab and plunging forward with my own, only to be blocked again.

“What do you really want, Lachlan? I know you’re not here only to reconnect with the family.”

“I told ye, my name is Jacob,” I gritted, trying for a counter tempo against his, but blocked again as he crossed his blade over mine.

“Fine, Jacob. Is it money you’re wanting? Because I’ll write a check right now and you can leave,” he spat, crossing my blade.

Money.

That could possibly solve my family’s problem, but what of our legacy?

That was long tarnished.

And I had to figure out how to fix that.

I was so close, I could almost taste it.

“You know I’m not leaving here, no matter how much of yer money you try to throw at me.” I tilted back, crossing my blade over his, watching him block, but his stance faltered. He was either tiring or my verbal jabs were getting to him. I’d take either one.

“You could have come here any other time, but you had to get Madison involved. All I want is for you to leave my fiancée and her family alone. Your problems are with my family, not theirs,” he said, pulling back as he got back into a fighting stance, sword thrusted, legs planted firmly on the ground.

“All I’ve ever heard growing up was about my family in England. The ones with the manor and the town. The ones who never helped when we needed it. Now you stand here and say I’m the one causing problems, when you, in fact, are the reason for these difficulties?” I extended my arm in a low ward, my blade by my knee as I thrusted the sword forward.

Gavin twisted out of my grasp before the blade could make contact, but it grazed the fabric of his gym shorts. The slicing sound whipped through the air around us.

He looked at the offending rip, then his gaze lifted to mine. He held the sword at his side, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“What do you want, Jacob?” When I didn’t answer, he stepped forward, his voice rising in fury. “What the hell do you really want?”

I gritted