Page 32 of A Scandalous Bargain
Chapter 6
Beatrix had been so enthralled with Rockbourne that she’d completely missed the criminal dashing out from a narrow street until he was nearly on her. She tried to move, but there wasn’t time.
“What have we here?” a second man said as the first, a burly fellow who stank of gin, grabbed Beatrix by the arms and dragged her back toward the shadows of the side street.
Rockbourne collided with them, and they all tumbled to the pavement.
The sound of a pistol hammer cocking clicked in Beatrix’s ears. She rolled away from the two men who were now grappling for the upper hand and reached into her boot. Withdrawing the small knife, she freed the blade and pivoted onto her knee so that she was close to the man with the pistol. Without pause, she sank the blade into the back of his thigh. Pulling it out, she used her advantage of surprise—and his injury—and leapt up, hitting her forearm against his wrist to knock the pistol from his hand. The weapon flew and landed a few feet away as the man shrieked.
Standing straight, Beatrix pulled a small pistol from the slim interior pocket of her coat and pointed it in the man’s face. “Go.”
The man didn’t hesitate. He hobbled away as quickly as his wound would allow. Beatrix found the gun she’d forced from his grip and plucked it up.
Then she spun toward the two men who were still wrestling. No, not wrestling. Rockbourne had the upper hand and was currently pummeling the man’s face. Except it was more than that. He was attacking the miscreant viciously, mercilessly.
“Tom!” she called, not wanting to use his title. “I’ve got the gun!”
Rockbourne stopped and looked over at her, his eyes wide, his mouth open as he panted with exertion. The footpad seized the opportunity to shove Rockbourne off him. Scrambling to his feet, the brigand nearly stumbled as he fought to get away. Rockbourne lunged for him, but the man moved just out of reach and managed to start running.
“Let him go,” Beatrix said, lowering both pistols. “Are you all right?”
“AmIall right?” Rockbourne stood. “Are you? Never mind, I can see you are. How on earth do you have two pistols?”
“One was the footpad’s and one is mine.” She tucked hers back into her coat.
He gaped at her. “You carry a pistol?”
She nodded. “Seems prudent given I’m out this late.”
“Prudent.” He shook his head as if he was befuddled. “It’s bloody dangerous.”
“Not since I carry a pistol. Just look how I was able—”
He strode toward her and took the other pistol from her hand. “See how easy it was for me to disarm you?”
She frowned up at him. “You aren’t a threat. If you were, you wouldn’t have. I would have shot you before you got too close. I know how to use a gun.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Christ, Beatrix. You scared the hell out of me.”
“Iscared you?”
He exhaled and fixed his gaze on her. “Not you, but what happened. Wait, yes, you. You wandering around London in the middle of the night with a bloody pistol scares the hell out of me.”
“It shouldn’t. As you can see, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.” She looked around. “Do you see any footpads?”
“There were two of them and two of us. If I hadn’t accompanied you tonight—” He snapped his mouth closed and grabbed her elbow. “You can’t do this again. No more coming to my house after dark.”
Her brows formed an angry V. “You aren’t my father. Or my husband.”
“You don’t have a bloody father. At least not one that’s worth a damn. And you don’t have a husband. You have me, and you’ll listen to me, goddammit.”
She drew back, surprised at the vitriol in his tone. Suddenly, she realized hewasscared. And that fear made him angry. “Rockbourne,” she whispered. “Tom.” She liked the way that felt on her tongue. Reaching up, she gently touched his cheek. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be afraid, not for me. I’m stronger—and more capable—than you think.”
He seemed to quiet, the fire in his gaze dimming. “You’re not used to anyone looking after you.”
She realized he was right. “Not really. Just my sister. And she’s even stronger and more capable than I am.” Dropping her hand to her side, she smiled, hoping to get back to the joy they’d shared earlier.
He tucked the pistol into the side of his waistband beneath his coat. Pivoting, he found her hat. As he handed it to her, she saw the damage to his hand. Blood smeared his knuckles. She hadn’t noticed if the footpad had been wounded, but surmised he had been. There was too much blood for it to be from the abrasions on Rockbourne’s flesh alone.
