and shoved the groin-grabber back. “Me first, mate. You can ‘ave her afters.”
Then suddenly the man with the cane leaped forward and knocked the head ruffian’s legs out from under him with a deft flick of his cane. The miscreant went down with a yelp and then a yowl of pain when the point of the cane came crashing down on the back of his knee with such force, Grace heard bone crunch from where she sat.
Then the man resumed his casual stance, leaning innocuously on his walking stick, before the fellow on the ground could even roll over to face him.
It all happened so fast, if Grace had blinked she might have missed it. But she hadn’t blinked and in the faint light, she’d caught sight of the man’s face.
Crispin Hawke.
She’d left his home that afternoon determined to treat him with cool disdain the next time they met. Now she’d never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life.
“The cripple’s gone and damaged me, mates!” The bully hugged his ruined knee to his chest, rocked in pain and loosed a string of inventive and anatomically improbable curses. “Get ‘im!”
Chapter 7
It was usually a simple matter for Pygmalion to keep folk at a distance. All he had to do was beat them away with his scowl.
The four upright ruffians leaped to do their fallen leader’s bidding. They circled Crispin, looking for the right opportunity. Grace’s hand flew to her lips to shush herself. If she cried out, she might distract Crispin and he needed his full attention on the fellows darting in to take punches at him.
Each time one of them tried, he received a smart rap on the knuckles from Crispin’s walking stick.
“Told you he were no easy mark,” one of them said, shaking his stinging hand. “Let’s shove off, Doyle.”
“No, he gots to pay for damaging Cooper there,” the one presumably named Doyle said. He was a big hulking brute, easily Crispin’s match for height and weight.
“But I think the bastard broke me hand,” the first one said. “I’m no’ giving him a chance to break the other one.” He loped away into the shadows, cradling his injured paw.
Doyle and the downed Cooper shouted threats after their retreating friend and called his parentage into question for several generations.
“I likes the look of his cufflinks meself,” Doyle said, turning his attention back to Crispin. “Toss ‘em over, cripple, and we’ll leave you and your doxy go free.”
“Doxy!” Grace exclaimed. She’d intended to remain quiet, but honestly, she couldn’t let a slight like that pass unchallenged. “I am no man’s doxy, and even if I were, I assure you I wouldn’t be his.”
There! That should disabuse Crispin Hawke of any notion that she’d given a second thought to that kiss he’d pressed on her.
“Suit yerself, luv,” Doyle said with a shrug. “We’ll take ye with us when we go, then.”
“You most certainly will not.” She scrambled to her feet and gave the still groaning Cooper a swift kick. “I’ll have you know that I’m Miss—”
“Missing a bit of her brainpudding, but I like my women a little on the bovine side with respect to intellect,” Crispin interrupted, drawing their eyes back to himself. “Mistress Vache and I will be leaving this grove together and with my cufflinks still in place, thank you, gentlemen. However, if you are adamantly determined about trying to remove them from me, might I suggest you make a concerted effort?”
The remaining trio blinked at him stupidly.
Crispin sighed and shook his head. “Come at me two at a time.”
“Oh, right,” Doyle said. “Get ‘im, lads.”
Two of them rushed Crispin and Grace gasped, her heart pounding in her throat. He was surely done for. Why had he egged them on? But at the last second, Crispin took a quick step back and the men butted noggins with each other with a loud thud. He whacked them both on their bottoms with his walking stick as they crumpled to the grass.
Then he feinted a
Then suddenly the man with the cane leaped forward and knocked the head ruffian’s legs out from under him with a deft flick of his cane. The miscreant went down with a yelp and then a yowl of pain when the point of the cane came crashing down on the back of his knee with such force, Grace heard bone crunch from where she sat.
Then the man resumed his casual stance, leaning innocuously on his walking stick, before the fellow on the ground could even roll over to face him.
It all happened so fast, if Grace had blinked she might have missed it. But she hadn’t blinked and in the faint light, she’d caught sight of the man’s face.
Crispin Hawke.
She’d left his home that afternoon determined to treat him with cool disdain the next time they met. Now she’d never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life.
“The cripple’s gone and damaged me, mates!” The bully hugged his ruined knee to his chest, rocked in pain and loosed a string of inventive and anatomically improbable curses. “Get ‘im!”
Chapter 7
It was usually a simple matter for Pygmalion to keep folk at a distance. All he had to do was beat them away with his scowl.
The four upright ruffians leaped to do their fallen leader’s bidding. They circled Crispin, looking for the right opportunity. Grace’s hand flew to her lips to shush herself. If she cried out, she might distract Crispin and he needed his full attention on the fellows darting in to take punches at him.
Each time one of them tried, he received a smart rap on the knuckles from Crispin’s walking stick.
“Told you he were no easy mark,” one of them said, shaking his stinging hand. “Let’s shove off, Doyle.”
“No, he gots to pay for damaging Cooper there,” the one presumably named Doyle said. He was a big hulking brute, easily Crispin’s match for height and weight.
“But I think the bastard broke me hand,” the first one said. “I’m no’ giving him a chance to break the other one.” He loped away into the shadows, cradling his injured paw.
Doyle and the downed Cooper shouted threats after their retreating friend and called his parentage into question for several generations.
“I likes the look of his cufflinks meself,” Doyle said, turning his attention back to Crispin. “Toss ‘em over, cripple, and we’ll leave you and your doxy go free.”
“Doxy!” Grace exclaimed. She’d intended to remain quiet, but honestly, she couldn’t let a slight like that pass unchallenged. “I am no man’s doxy, and even if I were, I assure you I wouldn’t be his.”
There! That should disabuse Crispin Hawke of any notion that she’d given a second thought to that kiss he’d pressed on her.
“Suit yerself, luv,” Doyle said with a shrug. “We’ll take ye with us when we go, then.”
“You most certainly will not.” She scrambled to her feet and gave the still groaning Cooper a swift kick. “I’ll have you know that I’m Miss—”
“Missing a bit of her brainpudding, but I like my women a little on the bovine side with respect to intellect,” Crispin interrupted, drawing their eyes back to himself. “Mistress Vache and I will be leaving this grove together and with my cufflinks still in place, thank you, gentlemen. However, if you are adamantly determined about trying to remove them from me, might I suggest you make a concerted effort?”
The remaining trio blinked at him stupidly.
Crispin sighed and shook his head. “Come at me two at a time.”
“Oh, right,” Doyle said. “Get ‘im, lads.”
Two of them rushed Crispin and Grace gasped, her heart pounding in her throat. He was surely done for. Why had he egged them on? But at the last second, Crispin took a quick step back and the men butted noggins with each other with a loud thud. He whacked them both on their bottoms with his walking stick as they crumpled to the grass.
Then he feinted a
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