Page 36 of The Tantalizing of a Scandalous Rake

“Bastard!”

Adam saw the fist—a blur of tensed knuckles—before he felt the hit. He staggered back a few steps and the man retreated just enough to slam his shoulder into Adam’s chest. Rosie screamed.

He landed hard against the wall, pain jarring through his rib cage and spine. Hands raised, he braced himself for another blow as the stranger retreated for another run at him. A sickly thud rang through the room and the gentleman stilled and blinked a few times. Adam used the opportunity to straighten and lift his fists.

The man’s knees gave out and he dropped hard onto them, then sagged backward, his body contorted at an odd angle.

Behind him, Rosie held a huge cast iron pan. She grimaced. “Did I kill him?”

Adam nudged him with a boot. “No. He still breathes. I think you just stunned him.”

“Oh.”

Adam smirked. “You sound disappointed.”

“Not at all! I do not need another murder at my inn!”

“I am alive you know.”

She waved a hand. “You know what I mean.” She inched closer to the man and leaned over him. “What do we do with him?”

Adam rubbed his sore back and eyed him. “He’ll be awake any moment. It was only a light hit.”

Rosie lifted her chin. “I hit him quite hard actually.”

“It takes an awful lot to knock a man out, Rosie, despite what you may have heard. I would wager many a man has boasted about striking someone out in one hit but it’s rare.”

“Oh.”

“Let us tie him up in case he decides he wants another go at me.”

She nodded, hastened to retrieve some rope from storage and aided him with lifting the man onto a chair and binding his hands. She tilted her head and studied him. “Do you recognize him?”

“No, but I might have bested him at cards. It does happen rather a lot.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you think he was the man who stabbed you?”

Adam squinted at him. He’d seen so little that night. “Who knows.”

“Some use you are,” Rosie muttered.

“I was about to be extremely useful,” he protested.

“Shh, he awakens.”

Turning his attention to the man, Adam adopted his best lordly expression, his legs wide, his arms folded. Slowly, the man roused. He peered around and sluggishly tugged at his bonds before realization struck and he jerked forward, dragging the chair a foot or so forward.

Adam put a foot to the base of the chair. “I suggest you explain yourself, sir, or we’ll be handing you over to the sheriff.” He nodded toward Rosie. “And she still has her pan.”

Rosie lifted it high and nodded.

“Bastard,” the man muttered, his gaze burning, his arms straining against the bonds.

Adam glanced him over. Well-dressed, perfectly smooth jaw, pomaded golden hair and the soft hands of a wealthy man...surely he knew him? Something about the man tugged at his mind but he could not place him.

“If I bested you at cards, you would do well to accept your defeat. You would not be the first nor the last.” He glanced at Rosie. “Well, maybe the last.” Cards held little appeal now he had the challenge of Rosie and the inn.

“Cards?” The man closed his eyes briefly as his head rolled then straightened himself with a wince. “This isn’t about something as ridiculous as cards.” He looked to Rosie. “Do you even know the sort of man you harbor? He is a cad, a bastard, a blackguard.”

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