Pay the Devil - Jack Higgins [29]
They danced well together, and as they circled the room she looked up into his face and smiled. “You look extremely handsome tonight.”
He grimaced and shook his head. “I have been accused of many things, Miss Hamilton, but never of being handsome.”
She frowned in genuine puzzlement. “Surely you must be aware that every woman in the room is longing to have you dance with her?”
Before he could think of a suitable reply, the music died away and people stopped dancing. There were shocked gasps, and somewhere, a woman stifled a scream in her throat.
The French windows leading out onto the terrace had been opened a little earlier because of the warmth of the evening. Standing just inside the room were two men who had obviously stepped out of the darkness.
The one on the left was Kevin Rogan, and he carried a shotgun under one arm, thumbs hooked carelessly into his broad leather belt. His eyes swept over the crowd and met Clay’s and something like a smile touched his lip.
It was not difficult to guess the identity of his companion. Shaun Rogan was one of the largest men Clay had ever seen. He must have been all of six feet four or five, with a great breadth of shoulder, and his hair was a snow-white mane swept back behind his ears. He wore a felt hat and corduroy jacket.
Complete silence descended upon the room as Sir George walked forward to face him. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, Rogan,” he said calmly, “But I’d like to remind you that this is my property. As I have not invited you here, you’re guilty of trespassing. I suggest you leave as quickly as you came.”
Shaun Rogan’s voice was like the tuck of a drum. “Trespassing, is it, George Hamilton? And what was it your men were doing this morning when they invaded my land and assaulted not only one of my sons, but also my wife? Is it a woman-beater ye are now?”
Burke had moved to a position directly behind his master’s shoulder and he now took a quick step forward. Sir George held him back with one arm. “I want no trouble in front of my guests, Rogan. If you have a legitimate complaint, take it to the constabulary in Galway.”
“Would you listen to him?” Shaun Rogan demanded, looking round the room. “And what chance would I have against the likes of him?” There was no answer and he shook his head. “No, I’ve no complaint to make, but I’ve got a warning for you and your pet lapdog hiding there behind your shoulder. If you as much as set foot on my land again, you’ll get a bullet in you and there’s my solemn promise on it.”
He started to turn away, and Sir George’s anger got the better of him. “By God, you go too far, Rogan,” he cried, face suffused with passion. “I’ll see you rot in Galway gaol yet, you scum.”
Rogan turned slowly. “Scum, is it?” he said softly. “And what name would ye give to a man, who wanting a quarrel, hasn’t the guts to face his enemy himself, but sends his bully boys to manhandle a sixty-year-old woman?”
There was complete silence in the room and Joanna’s breath hissed softly between her teeth. Rogan slipped a hand into his coat and pulled out a pistol which he threw down at his enemy’s feet.
“There, you dog,” he said harshly. “Here’s as good a chance as you’ll ever get to rid the world of me, and ye haven’t the guts to take it.”
He turned his back and, pushing Kevin before him, moved to the French windows. In that same instant, Burke dropped to one knee and reached for the pistol. He thumbed back the hammer and levelled it, still kneeling. As he pulled the trigger, Clay moved. He stamped downward and the pistol exploded harmlessly into the floor. Burke dropped it with a cry of pain and clutched his wrist.
Kevin swung, shotgun levelled to fire, but his father moved quickly to stay him. His eyes met Clay’s and Kevin murmured something softly to him. A slight smile appeared on Shaun Rogan’s grim face, and he nodded and said, “I’m obliged to you, Colonel.” For a moment longer, they stood there in the light and then they melted away into the darkness
Sir George turned to Clay and his face was calm, although