Page 78 of My Wicked Earl
His hand shot out pawing the front of her bodice. The fragile lace edging her neckline pulled away, making a soft tearing sound. A sloppy kiss, tasting of sour wine, pillaged her mouth.
Miranda put her palms on Ridley’s chest and tried unsuccessfully to push him away. Surprisingly, he was stronger than he looked.
“Lovely night for a walk isn’t it?” A voice, angry and laced with an Irish lilt, floated through the garden.
Ridley’s hand froze in the assault of her breast. “What the bloody hell is he doing out here?”
Miranda heard the scratch of a match before a flame burst to life, flashing light over the scar that ran the length of Colin’s cheek. With an elegant turn of his wrist he touched it to the tip of the cheroot.
Ridley let his hand fall to Miranda’s waist.
“Kilmaire.”
“My apologies if I’ve interrupted. I was just havin’ a smoke.” All traces of the upper crust accent Colin usually affected had fled.
Miranda inhaled sharply. It was rare, if ever, that Colin allowed himself to slip in such a manner. It was her father, who after witnessing Colin lose his temper once said, ‘his uncle has not done him a favor in the regard of his speech for he sounds like an Irish dockworker.’
“Do you think it wise to be here, out of sight of the house, with Lord Cambourne’s sister? Trying to steal a kiss, are you?” Colin blew another smoke ring. “Most unwise.”
“We are nearly betrothed.”
“Nearly? That’s akin to a horse losing a race by a nose or less.” Colin gave a deadly chuckle. “But, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
Ridley’s entire body stiffened at the insult, incensed by Colin’s slur. “Your speech betrays your common blood,” Ridley spat back. “The Irish are such an emotional race. Take your mother, for example. Crazy as a loon. One wonders that you are not cut directly in polite society, Kilmaire.”
“Earlof Kilmaire.” Colin took a deep drag of the cheroot. “Which is bitlesscommon than amereviscount.” He stepped forward and blew a gentle puff of smoke at Ridley. “Even Lady Cottingham is aware of the difference between the two.”
Ridley pushed Miranda to the side, his handsome face contorted in anger. He took a deep gulp of air through his nose which made the hairs of his moustache quiver. He resembled a frightened mouse more than a viscount at that moment.
And Colin was the large, golden cat who had trapped his tail.
“You . . .” Ridley’s cheeks bulged. “I should call you out.”
“No!” Miranda shouted.
Both men looked at her as if they suddenly realized she was still standing there.
“Let us all return to the house. Lord Ridley,Edwin,” she said softly, “you’ve indulged overmuch. We will leave Lord Kilmaire to enjoy his cheroot in peace.”
Ridleyhadbehaved badly but Miranda didn’t think that was worth one losing one’s life over. And Ridley would certainly be killed or maimed. Never mind that she was probably going to marry the man. Colin, though he preferred a knife or swords, was, in his youth, a much better shot than Miranda. She thought it likely his skill had only increased over time.
“Yes,Edgar, listen to Lady Miranda.” Colin butchered Lord Ridley’s name before flicking an ash off the cheroot. “I’d hate to put a wee hole in you.”
Ridley thrust out his chest like some bantam rooster, “I’ll have you know—”
Colin cut him off with a graceful wave. “Let me explain something to you, Ridley. Evenifyou were very lucky and killed me, which is highly unlikely, you’d never survive what the Devil of Dunbar would do to you if your aim was true.” Colin shrugged. “Lady Radford aside, I fear my connections are much better than yours.” The patrician accent returned, his words sounding as if they were cut from stone.
How long had Colin spied on she and Ridley?Long enough to hear about Lady Radford.
Ridley paled and swallowed. He stepped back and his stance became less threatening. Sweat beaded his upper lip, shining above the ridiculous mustache he wore.
Miranda detested that mustache.
“That’s unfair to threaten him so,” she said in a low voice to Colin.
The broad shoulders shrugged, and he blew a row of smoke rings into Ridley’s face.
Arrogant Irishman.She clamped her lips shut to keep from hurling the insult out loud.
