Page 108 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

Chapter 11

“Wherein the monster returns to threaten everything.”

For a moment, Grace was overwhelmed with terror. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the ice gripping her heart and mind. An arm was tight about her throat and she was dragged violently from the cart. She screamed as she saw Ned being attacked on all sides. Three against one, it was so unfair, and fear was a living thing beneath her skin, and then she saw who it was that had her in his grip.

“Harold!” she spat, fury overcoming terror as she looked around into the cold blue eyes of her brother.

“Ah, my dearest sister,” he said, tightening his hold on her throat as he held her still, her back pressed to his chest. “I underestimated you. Who’d have thought you’d be slut enough to ruin yourself with the first fellow you clapped eyes on?”

“I’m not ruined,” she retorted. “I’m married, and if you hurt my husband, I’ll see you hang.”

Harold snorted at that. “I think not. No one will miss that ignorant brute. I doubt he can write his own name, and Carrington still wants you. You’ll not be his wife now, of course, and I’ll get a fraction of what I ought to have gotten, but it seems he still has a use for ruined goods.”

The idea of ever being in Carrington’s company again, of being taken away from Ned, was enough to spur her into action. She stamped on Harold’s foot, hard, so hard he yelped and was startled enough that she could pull out of his hold.

He snatched for her again, and Grace allowed it, remembering the way Carrington had crumpled when, as Ned had said, she’d kneed him in the bollocks. She’d told Ned just moments ago that she did not wish to be a lady, and bearing in mind that a lady would have been expected to swoon in such circumstances, she knew how very right she’d been.

She brought her knee up with all the force she could muster and saw her brother’s eyes bulge, heard the odd, squeaky sound he made as he expelled air from his lungs before falling to the ground, clutching his privates and moaning.

Breathing hard, she didn’t wait around to see if he got up again but scanned her surroundings, looking for something heavy to wield. Someone had been cutting wood in the field beyond the trees and she hurried forward, finding a long, slim branch from an oak tree that was stacked ready to be cut to size.

By the time she reached Ned, she saw to her satisfaction that one man was already out cold, and it looked as if Ned had broken the nose of one of the two who were still standing. To her horror, however, she saw they both carried knives, and that Ned was bleeding.

No.

No.

They must have assumed that her brother could subdue one, small female and were intent on the greater danger before them, as they never even glanced in her direction. Ned looked dangerous indeed. She’d never seen such a look of rage in his eyes and, by the wary manner in which the men were circling him, they weren’t underestimating it either. Whether or not he wanted or needed, her help was neither here nor there, however. Ned was in trouble, and she was damned if she’d sit meekly by while these sorry excuses for men outnumbered him.

Moving as quietly as her rustling skirts would allow, she hefted the narrow log in both hands and swung it with all her might. It struck the back of the man’s skull with a sickening thud that reverberated all the way up her arms and sent her stumbling backwards. She fell to the ground in an ungainly heap, but watched as her victim also fell, thudding to the earth like a stone, and she experienced a surge of triumph.

Too late, she looked up to see his companion lunging for her, his knife raised and a snarl on his face. She gasped and scrambled backwards but, before he could get close, Ned appeared and tackled the man to the ground with the force of a raging bull. They went down hard and the knife went flying, then all Grace could hear was the steady, thwack, thwack as Ned hit the man over and again.

“Ned,” she cried, running to him. “Ned, stop! You’ll kill him.”

Not that she cared for the man’s sake particularly, but she’d not let Ned live with such a thing on his conscience.

Ned seemed to be beyond the sound of her voice, though, and for a moment nothing reached him.

“Ned,” she said again. “Ned, please….”

Her voice trembled and broke and then he stopped, looking around at her as she burst into tears.

“Gracie,” he said, the man beneath his fists forgotten at once as he pushed to his feet and ran to her. “Gracie, love, are ye hurt?”

“N-No….” she stammered, brushing his arms away as he tried to hold her so that she could run her hands over him. “B-But you are,” she sobbed, terrified that there was some dreadful injury beneath the blood-soaked shirt.

“’Tis not my blood, love,” he said, smiling a little as he tugged her back into his arms. “I broke the fellow’s nose, and he bled like a stuck pig.”

“You’re sure?” she demanded, putting her hands to his face. “You’re not hurt?”

He gave an impatient bark of laughter and hauled her into his arms, holding her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “A few bruises, no more. Oh, God. Oh, Grace. I thought I’d lost ye.”

His voice trembled a little, and she buried her face in his chest, breathing in the reassuring scent of him and listening to the rapid beat of his heart.

She was released just as suddenly and she stumbled, turning in shock to see why he’d moved away. Her brother was scrambling to his feet, but in three quick strides Ned closed the distance between them and hauled him up by his cravat. Harold looked like a rag doll in Ned’s powerful grasp, especially when Ned slammed him up against the nearest tree.

Her brother gasped and choked, his feet swinging a good four inches from the ground.