Page 30 of Captured By the Cold Duke
Very slowly, Dawson turned around to face Thomas. His face was a mask of fury. After a long moment, he spat on the ground in the direction of Lady Chastity before turning back to Thomas.
“If that girl is innocent then I'm the King of England,” he said. “You've seen the way she's been throwing herself at me. She has no shame! The girl was asking for it.”
“It isn't true!” Chastity howled. “Minerva, I swear it isn't. He said we were going for a walk, and that he had an important question to ask me. I knew it wasn't proper to be alone with him, but I thought he was going to propose! Please, you have to believe me!”
“Of course, I believe you!” Lady Minerva said at once.
“Sure, believe her lies, if it makes you feel better,” Dawson sneered. “But you can't blame me if she was begging for it, only to change her mind once she realized she was in over her head. That's the problem with young ladies these days. They've been given modern notions of independence and taught how to tease men, but they aren't prepared for the repercussions of their disgusting tawdriness. That's why they need men to put them in their place, show them the consequences of behaving like wh?—”
Wham. Thomas’s fist collided with the side of Dawson’s jaw and sent him flying. Cherie gasped at the same time that LadyChastity screamed, and even Lady Minerva let out a small, choked cry.
Thomas hadn’t even been thinking. He had simply acted on instincts. However, he had no regrets, even as his hand throbbed with pain. It had been a long time since he’d punched someone, and he had forgotten just how painful it could be. It was worth it, however, to see Dawson collapse on the ground in front of him, his eyes wide with shock.
Dawson let out a groan, then scrambled backward and pushed himself back to his feet. He spit, then rubbed his jaw. It appeared to have been cut, and blood was dripping down his chin. He glared up at Thomas and let out a low hiss.
Thomas, meanwhile, raised his fist again.
“Say another word and you'll feel my fist again,” he snarled. Dawson stared at his fist, and Thomas glanced at it as well. His knuckles were white, and there was blood smeared across the knuckles. It shocked him to see, and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare at it.
But he paid for his momentary lapse in focus.
“Watch out!” Cherie screamed, and a split second later, Dawson tackled him.
Thomas felt himself hit the ground hard. Pain shot through his hip, and the wind was temporarily knocked out of him by theweight of Dawson on top of him. He gasped, trying to catch his breath, but he didn’t have a chance to recover, because the next second, Dawson had hit him hard in the face.
Thomas brought his hands up in defense, then rolled, freeing himself from Dawson. He was larger than the viscount and stronger, and he pushed through the pain and sprang to his feet. His cheek and hip were throbbing, but he didn't care. All his senses were heightened and alert. He knew exactly what he had to do.
Defend the ladies. Defend Cherie.The words pounded through his head, giving him strength and clarity.
Dawson lunged at him again, but this time, Thomas was ready. He easily dodged the attack, stepping swiftly to his left, and by the time Dawson turned, his hands were already striking their blow.
This time, he hit Dawson hard on the nose. It was a brutal shot, but he knew it would stun his opponent and maybe even break his nose.
And indeed, Dawson stumbled back, confused and clutching his nose.
“You'll have to be quicker than that to beat me!” Thomas roared. “I learned to fight from the most fearsome Sikh Warriors in Amritsar, the bodyguards of the Raj himself.”
Dawson released his nose and stared at Thomas with fury.
“You can't intimidate me with your mumbo jumbo!” he shrieked. He threw himself once more at Thomas. This time, Thomas didn’t dodge. He leaned forward into the punch and met it with his own, pummeling again and again until he felt Dawson’s defenses begin to break. Only then did Dawson fall back, snarling and spitting.
“Done yet?” Thomas taunted. “Or do you want more?” He almost hoped that Dawson would say he wanted more. After all the frustrations of the last few weeks, after all the hurt and sadness his father had inflicted on him, it felt good to let it all out.
Not in front of Cherie, a small voice said in the back of his head.You are trying to be better for her.
Dawson wiped the back of his mouth. He seemed to be thinking, perhaps trying to buy himself time. There was a long moment when no one moved. Thomas waited, patient and taut, to see what Dawson would do next.
Then, without warning, Dawson darted towards Cherie.
Thomas had a split second to react, and he didn't even stop to think. With a speed and agility he never knew he had, he leapt across the clearing just in time to slide tackle Dawson and send him sprawling into the mud. The viscount howled in pain.
Thomas scrambled back to his feet and went to stand over Dawson. He towered over the viscount, and the look that Dawson gave him, as he stared up at him, was one of fear and even awe.
“I never want to see you in Society ever again,” Thomas murmured, his voice soft but deadly. “You will get out of London—the country, if you know what's best for you—and you will stay away. For good. Otherwise, you will lose even more than you already have today. I will ensure that. Nor will you try any kind of revenge against Lady Chastity. She is under my protection. Not just mine, but the Duke of Vaston’s as well. Do I make myself clear?”
Dawson moaned, then pushed himself to his feet. His eyes were full of hate, but also fear, as he backed away from Thomas.
“DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” Thomas roared.
