Read Online How I Met My Countess by Elizabeth Boyle - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Boyle
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landed on the hard-packed earth, down beside her long-forgotten basket. She cursed, using her father’s favorite expression, one that had gotten her banished at the tender age of seven from Mrs. Fishwick’s Boarding School for Young Ladies.
Instead of worrying over her indiscretion—the curse, not the kiss—she swiped at the wayward strands of hair falling over her face so that she could see what the devil was happening.
And it wasn’t a pretty picture.
Rusty and Sammy had Clifton boxed in, with the hedge at his back and no means of escape.
“Oh, dear heavens,” she managed to gasp. For as much as she had wanted to see the earl tossed around a bit, that desire had been before …
Before he’d been about to kiss her. Before he’d teased her. Tempted her. Turned the tables on her. Had left her so distracted that she’d forgotten about Rusty and Sammy and her father’s plans.
And now? Before she could manage another word, one that might put a halt to the entire proceedings, Sammy rushed in.
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, I can’t watch. I can’t watch.
For she knew what was going to happen next. Sammy would get a bear hold on the earl, then Rusty, with his big fists and rapid reflexes, would work their devilry up and down the earl’s midsection, cracking ribs as easily as one might crack a dozen eggs.
Not enough to do real harm, but enough …
“Oh, no, you don’t, you bastards,” she heard the earl say in a low, dangerous voice. The sort of warning a mastiff growls before it happily takes off a thief’s leg.
Her lashes sprang open just in time to see Sammy go flying, shaken off like a flea. The big lug landed hard, the air rushing out of him in a whoosh and leaving him dazed and stunned on the lane not far from where she lay sprawled.
She looked over at the dumfounded expression on the experienced fellow’s face—a sort of “how the devil did that happen?” shock that fled as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell over, passed out cold.
Clifton shook off Sammy? No, she corrected herself, he’d done Sammy in.
Lucy shivered, her father’s prophecy coming to fruition before her eyes.
I know you think Clifton a tiresome fool, but I think he’ll surprise you, Goosie.
She glanced up at the two men still standing and swallowed.
“Oh, you’ve got a bit of rum luck to you, do you guv’ner?” Rusty said, cocking his head back a bit, like a rooster ready to crow his supremacy.
Unfortunately for Rusty, that moment of brash impudence cost him.
For Clifton didn’t fight like a nobleman—all rules and Gentleman Jim order, with his fists held high and in plain sight.
No, he fought like a blacksmith’s son.
He dove headfirst into Rusty’s midsection, carrying them both to the ground, where they rolled a bit, fists flying, the brutal thunk of a hard paw as it found a fleshy target, curses rising like the dust, and suddenly it all cleared, the flurry of fighting coming to a momentary pause.
Lucy’s mouth fell open, or rather, it was already open, she didn’t know which, for Clifton had Rusty pinned to the ground, his hard, dangerous fist cocked and ready to land a punch that could stop a man cold.
“No!” she screamed, scrambling up and over, catching the earl’s hand. “Don’t hurt him.”
He turned to her, all wild-eyed and full of fury. “Why the hell not?”
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat, for she’d never seen a man so angry, so full of fire… . His eyes blazed with malice, and beneath her fingers she could feel his tremendous strength barely held in check, just on the edge of exploding.
She trembled but held fast, her father’s warning echoing through her frantic thoughts.
… He’ll make a good accounting of himself.
A good accounting? That was an understatement.
He’d shocked her. He’d managed to tempt her into nearly kissing him, and now …
Oh, heavens! The way his hand shook with a fierce passion beneath her fingers … it made her …
Instead of worrying over her indiscretion—the curse, not the kiss—she swiped at the wayward strands of hair falling over her face so that she could see what the devil was happening.
And it wasn’t a pretty picture.
Rusty and Sammy had Clifton boxed in, with the hedge at his back and no means of escape.
“Oh, dear heavens,” she managed to gasp. For as much as she had wanted to see the earl tossed around a bit, that desire had been before …
Before he’d been about to kiss her. Before he’d teased her. Tempted her. Turned the tables on her. Had left her so distracted that she’d forgotten about Rusty and Sammy and her father’s plans.
And now? Before she could manage another word, one that might put a halt to the entire proceedings, Sammy rushed in.
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, I can’t watch. I can’t watch.
For she knew what was going to happen next. Sammy would get a bear hold on the earl, then Rusty, with his big fists and rapid reflexes, would work their devilry up and down the earl’s midsection, cracking ribs as easily as one might crack a dozen eggs.
Not enough to do real harm, but enough …
“Oh, no, you don’t, you bastards,” she heard the earl say in a low, dangerous voice. The sort of warning a mastiff growls before it happily takes off a thief’s leg.
Her lashes sprang open just in time to see Sammy go flying, shaken off like a flea. The big lug landed hard, the air rushing out of him in a whoosh and leaving him dazed and stunned on the lane not far from where she lay sprawled.
She looked over at the dumfounded expression on the experienced fellow’s face—a sort of “how the devil did that happen?” shock that fled as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell over, passed out cold.
Clifton shook off Sammy? No, she corrected herself, he’d done Sammy in.
Lucy shivered, her father’s prophecy coming to fruition before her eyes.
I know you think Clifton a tiresome fool, but I think he’ll surprise you, Goosie.
She glanced up at the two men still standing and swallowed.
“Oh, you’ve got a bit of rum luck to you, do you guv’ner?” Rusty said, cocking his head back a bit, like a rooster ready to crow his supremacy.
Unfortunately for Rusty, that moment of brash impudence cost him.
For Clifton didn’t fight like a nobleman—all rules and Gentleman Jim order, with his fists held high and in plain sight.
No, he fought like a blacksmith’s son.
He dove headfirst into Rusty’s midsection, carrying them both to the ground, where they rolled a bit, fists flying, the brutal thunk of a hard paw as it found a fleshy target, curses rising like the dust, and suddenly it all cleared, the flurry of fighting coming to a momentary pause.
Lucy’s mouth fell open, or rather, it was already open, she didn’t know which, for Clifton had Rusty pinned to the ground, his hard, dangerous fist cocked and ready to land a punch that could stop a man cold.
“No!” she screamed, scrambling up and over, catching the earl’s hand. “Don’t hurt him.”
He turned to her, all wild-eyed and full of fury. “Why the hell not?”
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat, for she’d never seen a man so angry, so full of fire… . His eyes blazed with malice, and beneath her fingers she could feel his tremendous strength barely held in check, just on the edge of exploding.
She trembled but held fast, her father’s warning echoing through her frantic thoughts.
… He’ll make a good accounting of himself.
A good accounting? That was an understatement.
He’d shocked her. He’d managed to tempt her into nearly kissing him, and now …
Oh, heavens! The way his hand shook with a fierce passion beneath her fingers … it made her …
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