Page 19 of Sinfully Mine
“Very well.” The heel of Drew’s boot ground into the thug’s wrist. “I did warn you.” A satisfying snap filled the alley along with the man’s scream of pain.
As Drew had told Hester, he’d grown up with two brothers, both heavier and broader through the chest and he’d learned to defend himself from a young age. The three Sinclair boys were known for brawling both at River Crest and in London well before their father’s death and the banishment to Dunnings. There was a reason the Sinclairs were nicknamed The Deadly Sins and had a reputation for being uncivilized. Drew recalled quite clearly pummeling a snotty lad in the park one day after the overprivileged twit had theaudacityto sneer that Lady Emerson, Drew’s mother, was awhore.
Yes, Drew liked good food. Well-tailored clothing. Expensive boots. Cleanliness in general. But he was the furthest thing from a dandy.
“You could have simply dropped the knife.” Drew reached down and plucked the blade from the man’s fingers. This wasn’t the first time someone had attempted to take his purse by force, nor did he think it the last. He slid the knife into his pocket and stepped back.
“Go on, then. Leave before I display my own skills with a blade.”
Whimpering sounded at his feet.
Drew sighed and leaned back against the wall. Reaching inside his coat, he drew forth a cheroot. He lit the tip with a flick of his wrist, sending the used match in the direction of his assailant.
The man got to his feet, glaring at Drew his injured wrist clutched to his chest. “You’ll be sorry about this,” he sneered before jogging away.
“I don’t think I will.” He blew out a puff of smoke, finding it odd that there had been no demand for money or valuables during the entire skirmish. A novice at thievery to be sure. Wouldn’t survive a day in London.
Taking a draw of the cheroot, he shrugged and strolled out onto the main street to collect his horse.
Chapter Ten
Hester yawned oncemore and half-stumbled her way down the stairs. She’d overslept, a rare occurrence and one that left her groggy and out of sorts. The entire night had been spent tossing and turning, the image of Sinclair’s nakedness invading what should have been a peaceful evening. In an effort to avoid him and further speculate about what he looked like without clothing, she’d eaten in the kitchen and taken a glass of brandy back to her room. Which didn’t do the least bit of good.
Agentlemanwould have wrapped the sheets about him. Or begged her to turn. Not strutted naked towards her with a snake grasped in one outstretched hand.
Hester’s nails dug into the wood of the banister as she steadied herself.
The entire incident was made worse by the fact that Hesterhadinvaded Sinclair’s bedroom. If anyone were to find out, there wasn’t an explanation she could give to justify her actions. Not even Mrs. Ebersole would understand. Martin would be absolutely horrified.
When re-examined in the cold light of day, after a sleepless night, Hester had to agree that placing a snake in a gentleman’s bed with the sole purpose of terrifying him into leaving Blackbird Heath was ridiculous and childish.
More importantly, it hadn’t worked.
There had to be some way to induce Sinclair to leave and continue to allow her to run Blackbird Heath. They could not coexist together forever.
A warm tingle shot down her spine at the thought of him two rooms down, for months on end.
“There you are, Mrs. Black.” Sinclair’s voice floated to the doorway of the dining room where he was eating breakfast. “You overslept. I grew worried that you were ill.”
His overly polite tone combined with his usual magnificent appearance irritated Hester to no end. Never a hair out of place. Cravat, perfect. If she leaned down, Hester would likely see her reflection in the shine of his boots.
“Mr. Sinclair.” Hester greeted him, bumping into the table at the thought of what lie beneath all that fine clothing.
“Do I have something on my cheek?” he said in that silky tone, brushing the line of his jaw.
“No,” she snapped.
“You’re staring.” He wiggled his brows just a bit.
“I’m only surprised to find you up so early.” Taking a seat, she reached for a piece of toast.
“Come now, Mrs. Black. Let’s not make things awkward concerning your visit to my room yesterday. You are a widow, after all. And a farmer. I doubt there’s anything you haven’t seen before.”
A wash of heat crept up her chest and neck. “Not at all.”
“Wonderful. I hope you don’t have plans for Mrs. Ebersole today. I’ve need of her,” he said with just a hint of innuendo before giving her housekeeper a flirtatious wink.
Mrs. Ebersole bared her teeth and grunted.
