Page 27 of Tempting the Marquess

“What’s your hurry, gel?” he asked, grabbing her arm as she tried to make her way past him. “We’re just starting to get to know one another.”

“Please let go of me, Sir Francis.”

“What an unfriendly tone. Perhaps you aren’t aware, my pet, but I hold a great deal of authority in the city, and on the docks. If you were as obliging with favors as your mother, life would be very agreeable for your family,” he continued, taking hold of her other arm in a painfully tight grip and yanking her towardhim.

Damnation, the baronet had her trapped. Her reticule dangled uselessly from her wrist, so she couldn’t reach her dagger, and her blasted gown was too tight to direct a knee into his private parts. How could she have been so foolish as to ignore her instincts about Sir Francis?

“Let. Her. Go.”

Almost dizzy with relief at hearing the frigidly cold voice behind them, Samantha waited to be released. Instead, Sir Francis held on and peered at the darkened private antechamber inside.

“Not your affair, sir. Between me and my ladyhere.”

“The lady quite distinctly asked you to unhand her. You have not. I suggest you do. Immediately.”

“Now see here,” Sir Francis spluttered. “Mind your own business or you’ll be sorry. It’s just a bit of sport, which the baggage is well usedto!”

In a lightning-fast movement the vile man was wrenched away from her, catapulting inside the house where he crashed unceremoniously into a vase of blooms resting on a small side table. Shockingly, Lord Standish stood over him, his exquisite features twisted in a terrifying expression.

“Get up,” he snarled at the baronet, roughly jerking him to his feet before pulling back a fist and hitting him flush in the face. Sir Francis’ head lolled to one side, blood gushing from his nose, but that clearly wasn’t enough as the first bone-crunching blow was followed by a second.

Samantha rushed toward them. “Lord Standish, please! Nomore!”

Sir Francis made a gurgling sound of agreement. The marquess glared at him, murderous rage etched across his face, and landed a third.

Oh God. If she didn’t intervene, Lord Standish would kill the baronet. They might not have an audience now, but if anyone happened to walk past the antechamberdoor…

Taking a deep breath, she reached up and gripped his arm. “Lord Standish. William. Stop this atonce.”

Somehow her wobbly but determined words and deliberate touch broke through his wrath. Blinking, he let Sir Francis’ inert body crumple to the floor, then slumped down against the table edge and closed hiseyes.

Alarmed, she gripped him tighter. “William? Say something!”

“Just give me a moment,” he said hoarsely. “You are all right? He didn’t harmyou?”

“I’mfine.”

“You shouldn’t have witnessed such violence. I went toofar.”

“Don’t apologize. I know it’s wrong, but I’m glad you hit him. I just didn’t want you to hang for murder.”

“That would indeed be extremely disagreeable,” he replied, a half-smile on his lips, but he remained far too tense. Possibly because she was still touching him, stroking his arm as one would a fractious horse.

“I’m sorry...” she stammered, moving to pull away, but William’s hand came up and clamped her fingers to his arm. Then he stroked the top of her wrist and she shivered at the reminder of how good a hard, slightly calloused thumb felt dragging back and forth against herskin.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped. “Tell me rightnow.”

The low, rough words sent fresh waves of heat through her body, luring her to the edge of scandal and daring her tojump.

Licking dry lips, Samantha rolled her shoulders, attempting to ease the constriction of stays which were chafing her hardening nipples unbearably.

His eyes darkened, his expression turned forbidding, and she almost groaned in disappointment. He was going to walk away again.

Then a slow hand lifted to cup her cheek. “Samantha, tell me, damn it,” he bit out, yet there was a hint of pleading there, too.

Instead of wrenching away, slapping him, and fleeing like a proper young lady should, she turned her head and brushed her lips against his palm. “No.”

With a muffled groan, William guided her to the other side of the room away from Sir Francis. One arm slid around her waist, his other hand cupped her neck, and then his mouth claimedhers.