Page 101 of Her Beast

Strangely, Julia believed him.

∞∞∞

Malcolm was teetering on the edge of throwing caution to the winds and warning Julia—in no uncertain terms—that her impending marriage was a disaster in the making when James entered the dining room and saved him from himself.

“Excuse me for interrupting, Mr. Barton, but I have a message for you.”

Malcolm unfolded the sheet of paper and read Butkins’s precise handwriting:

“Mr. Bacon and Mrs. Harlow are here.”

Malcolm grimaced.

Bacon was no fool. If he’d brought Nadine Harlow to Malcolm’s home it was because he could not avoid it.

Malcolm looked up at James. “Tell Mr. Butkins I’ll join them shortly.”

“Very good, sir.”

Malcolm tucked the message into his coat before meeting Julia’s curious stare. “I’m afraid something has come up that I must see to right away. Will you please excuse me?”

“Oh. Of course.” She smiled. “But I shall want to continue this conversation later.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” A great deal more than Malcolm was looking forward to talking with her stepmother.

∞∞∞

Malcolm left the door open after he entered his office and turned to Joe. “You may leave us.”

“She’s a handful, sir, watch her,” Joe warned in an under voice and headed for the door.

Malcolm approached Mrs. Harlow intending to take the chair nearest to her, but she leapt to her feet when he came near, fury and fear radiating off her bone-thin person.

“Mrs. Harlow, what a delightful—

“Howdareyou?”

Malcolm didn’t see her hand coming because she struck his blind spot, hitting the masked side of his face hard enough to whip his head around.

“Bloody ‘ell!” Joe shouted, thundering back toward them. “You awright, Mr. Barton?”

Malcolm raised a staying hand. “I’m fine, Joe. Go,” he said quietly.

He felt the huge man’s hesitation, but he turned, muttering beneath his breath as he stomped from the room.

It made Malcolm smile—which hurt his face—that Joe thought he needed protection from a woman who couldn’t weight eight stone.

He turned to face his aggressor, angling himself to keep both her hands in view.

She trembled with anger, her narrow face contorted with rage and loathing, and her right hand twitched at her side.

“The next time you hit me I will hit you back. And I will do it twice as hard.”

“Youbeast!” she spat, and staggered back, forgetting the chair right behind her. Before she could fall on her arse, Malcolm grabbed her upper arm to steady her. “Letgoof me!” she hissed, jerking her arm.

“Sit,” he ordered.

“I will do no such—”

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