bucket down with another loud thud, finally giving him her full attention. “And just what is it they are saying?” she demanded, walking over to stand next to him, separated only by the wooden door of Firefly’s stall.
Unable to retain his composure at the thought of Grace preferring anybody to him, Harry felt his perfect features twist a bit, betraying his carefully concealed ire. “What they’re saying,” he said, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, “is that his unexpected appearance at the Assembly Rooms last night was no coincidence.”
“Well, that’s certainly true,” Grace supplied uninformatively. She turned back to her task, hoping he would pick up on the fact that she did not wish to have a conversation with him. She did not turn quickly enough. His hand shot out, and she gave an involuntary yelp as it closed painfully around her wrist. He spun her back around and pushed her up hard against the stall door.
“You’re hurting me!” Grace cried out, struggling to free her arm from his iron grip. Firefly nickered nervously behind her. Grace tried unsuccessfully to stifle the small whimper that escaped her as pain shot up her arm from her wrist.
“They’re saying,” Harry said menacingly, his angry face, only inches from hers, turning a mottled shade of purple, “that you’ve known each other for years, that you’re possiblybetrothed and probably lovers. Is that true?” he bit out between clenched teeth.
In a flash, blind anger overrode Grace’s momentary fear. She tossed her head defiantly and glared straight into his furious hazel eyes, ignoring the increasing ache in her wrist. She opened her mouth to tell him that she belonged to no man, that she never intended to marry, and most especially not him. Before she had a chance to utter a word, Trevor stepped from the shadowy doorway near the tack room and spoke.
“Now, if that
were
true,” he warned in a calm, silky voice, “how do you suppose I might react to somebody handling my fiancée thus, and speaking to her in such an insulting and abusive manner?” He took a threatening step closer to Harry and looked pointedly at the hand still locked around Grace’s wrist.
Recognizing the steely glint in Trevor’s eyes as possessive fury, Harry let go and turned defensively toward the earl, anger bristling in his narrowed eyes. Grace backed quickly toward Firefly, safely out of reach of either man. She stood, silently rubbing her wrist, as she watched the unbelievable tableau playing out before her.
The two men stood facing each other warily, a study in opposites, although quite similar in height and build. The dark earl, attired in a subdued black coat and trousers over a spotless white linen shirt, exuded an air of leashed power and cool control. The blond knight, dressed in the colorful, foppish finery of a town dandy, appeared weak and somehow silly, despite his alleged exploits in the war. Grace felt a shadow of alarm thread through her. A strange sense of unreality descended upon the entire scene while she stood holding Firefly’s bridle. She stroked the nervous horse’s neck reassuringly and murmured soothing words in a twitching ear, as much to calm herself as to settle the animal.
As his anger began to dissolve into justifiable fear, Harry assessed the threat to his physical well-being, as well as to the new clothing he proudly sported. Wisely, he held up a placating hand. “Please understand that I’m merely concerned for Grace’s reputation, my lord, as is the entire village,” he said in an almost pleasant tone. “As she has no brother to keep her safe and defend her honor, naturally I feel as though I should assume the responsibilities of one.”
Grace gave an unladylike snort of disbelief.
Trevor glanced at her briefly, then looked back at the now serenely smiling face of the knight. His hackles rose at the sight of the tasteless man’s self-satisfied smirk. “Your brotherly services will no longer be
Unable to retain his composure at the thought of Grace preferring anybody to him, Harry felt his perfect features twist a bit, betraying his carefully concealed ire. “What they’re saying,” he said, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, “is that his unexpected appearance at the Assembly Rooms last night was no coincidence.”
“Well, that’s certainly true,” Grace supplied uninformatively. She turned back to her task, hoping he would pick up on the fact that she did not wish to have a conversation with him. She did not turn quickly enough. His hand shot out, and she gave an involuntary yelp as it closed painfully around her wrist. He spun her back around and pushed her up hard against the stall door.
“You’re hurting me!” Grace cried out, struggling to free her arm from his iron grip. Firefly nickered nervously behind her. Grace tried unsuccessfully to stifle the small whimper that escaped her as pain shot up her arm from her wrist.
“They’re saying,” Harry said menacingly, his angry face, only inches from hers, turning a mottled shade of purple, “that you’ve known each other for years, that you’re possiblybetrothed and probably lovers. Is that true?” he bit out between clenched teeth.
In a flash, blind anger overrode Grace’s momentary fear. She tossed her head defiantly and glared straight into his furious hazel eyes, ignoring the increasing ache in her wrist. She opened her mouth to tell him that she belonged to no man, that she never intended to marry, and most especially not him. Before she had a chance to utter a word, Trevor stepped from the shadowy doorway near the tack room and spoke.
“Now, if that
were
true,” he warned in a calm, silky voice, “how do you suppose I might react to somebody handling my fiancée thus, and speaking to her in such an insulting and abusive manner?” He took a threatening step closer to Harry and looked pointedly at the hand still locked around Grace’s wrist.
Recognizing the steely glint in Trevor’s eyes as possessive fury, Harry let go and turned defensively toward the earl, anger bristling in his narrowed eyes. Grace backed quickly toward Firefly, safely out of reach of either man. She stood, silently rubbing her wrist, as she watched the unbelievable tableau playing out before her.
The two men stood facing each other warily, a study in opposites, although quite similar in height and build. The dark earl, attired in a subdued black coat and trousers over a spotless white linen shirt, exuded an air of leashed power and cool control. The blond knight, dressed in the colorful, foppish finery of a town dandy, appeared weak and somehow silly, despite his alleged exploits in the war. Grace felt a shadow of alarm thread through her. A strange sense of unreality descended upon the entire scene while she stood holding Firefly’s bridle. She stroked the nervous horse’s neck reassuringly and murmured soothing words in a twitching ear, as much to calm herself as to settle the animal.
As his anger began to dissolve into justifiable fear, Harry assessed the threat to his physical well-being, as well as to the new clothing he proudly sported. Wisely, he held up a placating hand. “Please understand that I’m merely concerned for Grace’s reputation, my lord, as is the entire village,” he said in an almost pleasant tone. “As she has no brother to keep her safe and defend her honor, naturally I feel as though I should assume the responsibilities of one.”
Grace gave an unladylike snort of disbelief.
Trevor glanced at her briefly, then looked back at the now serenely smiling face of the knight. His hackles rose at the sight of the tasteless man’s self-satisfied smirk. “Your brotherly services will no longer be
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