Read Online How I Met My Countess by Elizabeth Boyle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Boyle
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well, she didn’t want to know how it made her feel.
Because the dangerous desires it sent through her, the want to feel those arms around her, to have his solid chest up against hers, his lips taking what they wanted, was too treacherous to consider.
Especially now that she knew exactly what he was capable of.
He pulled his hand back further, hauling her along. “Give me a good reason not to darken this bastard’s lights.”
“Good heavens, my lord, he was supposed to do this,” she sputtered, clinging to his hand and utterly convinced he was about to consign Rusty to his just rewards.
Clifton’s fist hung in the air for a moment longer, then his tense and battle-ready muscles flexed, shaking her off, breaking her hold on him.
Rusty scrambled out from beneath the earl, crawling over to his friend and rolling him over. Sammy groaned and struggled up to a sitting position.
“What the bloody hell happened?” Sammy complained, his hand going to his head, one eye already swelling shut. “Did I get hit by a coach?”
“Miss Lucy! I demand an explanation!” Clifton said, getting to his feet and leaning over to retrieve his hat, which had rolled to a stop near her basket. He dusted off his pants, then raked his fingers through his hair before he slammed the tall beaver back in place. “What is the meaning of this?”
Lucy blinked and gaped up at him, for here he was again. The same arrogant, demanding fellow she’d been ready to toss to the lions half an hour ago.
Oh, better this, Lucy, than the man you were so willing to kiss.
“I demand an explanation now!” he ordered. Still, she didn’t know which angered her more— the fact that she lacked a wagonload of lions into which to heave him or that Rusty and Sammy couldn’t have delayed their arrival for just a few moments more.
But his sharp tone and the arrogant tilt of his brows were enough to spark Lucy back into the safe and comfortable world of detesting him utterly.
“Well, I would think it is quite obvious, my lord,” she said, shaking off her own skirts and marching over to where Rusty and Sammy sat defeated and battered in the dust. As she knelt down to inspect the damage, she said, “These men were hired to test you.”
“Test me?” Clifton towered over her, as commanding as a duke, every bit the pompous, arrogant man she’d so happily dismissed.
But now? She glanced up at his handsome, albeit furious, face. Took a glance at his lips, the ones that had been about to kiss her.
“Yes, test you.” She shuddered as she took stock of the poor fellows before her. “Oh, heavens, Sammy, you’re going to have a terrible shiner,” she told him, reaching out and gently touching his rough cheek. Then she glanced over at Rusty’s bloody nose. “And you’re not much better, I fear,” she told him. Rising, Lucy shook out her skirts again and turned to Clifton. “You’re bleeding as well. And your eye …” She flinched at the sight of it.
He swiped the back of his hand across his face, wincing as he touched it, but, with all the arrogance of a gentleman, he refused to give any ground. “ ’Tis of no matter,” he told her in his usual standoffish manner.
Lucy wasn’t fooled. “You won’t say that tomorrow when your eye is shuttered and you’ve bruises enough to deter even old Gertie’s interest.” She heaved a sigh. “Well, there is nothing left to do but take the lot of you home and get you fixed up.”
She went to help up the still reeling Sammy, but he was too much for her and she landed in a heap beside him. Glancing over her shoulder, she said in a voice as imperious as the earl’s, “Well, you might as well help, my lord, because you seem to be the only one left standing.”
“There now, Sammy,” Lucy said, bustling about the kitchen and holding out a beefsteak for the poor fellow’s battered face. “This ought to help.”
Carefully, she avoided looking over at the earl. For right now she felt as dazed as Sammy
Because the dangerous desires it sent through her, the want to feel those arms around her, to have his solid chest up against hers, his lips taking what they wanted, was too treacherous to consider.
Especially now that she knew exactly what he was capable of.
He pulled his hand back further, hauling her along. “Give me a good reason not to darken this bastard’s lights.”
“Good heavens, my lord, he was supposed to do this,” she sputtered, clinging to his hand and utterly convinced he was about to consign Rusty to his just rewards.
Clifton’s fist hung in the air for a moment longer, then his tense and battle-ready muscles flexed, shaking her off, breaking her hold on him.
Rusty scrambled out from beneath the earl, crawling over to his friend and rolling him over. Sammy groaned and struggled up to a sitting position.
“What the bloody hell happened?” Sammy complained, his hand going to his head, one eye already swelling shut. “Did I get hit by a coach?”
“Miss Lucy! I demand an explanation!” Clifton said, getting to his feet and leaning over to retrieve his hat, which had rolled to a stop near her basket. He dusted off his pants, then raked his fingers through his hair before he slammed the tall beaver back in place. “What is the meaning of this?”
Lucy blinked and gaped up at him, for here he was again. The same arrogant, demanding fellow she’d been ready to toss to the lions half an hour ago.
Oh, better this, Lucy, than the man you were so willing to kiss.
“I demand an explanation now!” he ordered. Still, she didn’t know which angered her more— the fact that she lacked a wagonload of lions into which to heave him or that Rusty and Sammy couldn’t have delayed their arrival for just a few moments more.
But his sharp tone and the arrogant tilt of his brows were enough to spark Lucy back into the safe and comfortable world of detesting him utterly.
“Well, I would think it is quite obvious, my lord,” she said, shaking off her own skirts and marching over to where Rusty and Sammy sat defeated and battered in the dust. As she knelt down to inspect the damage, she said, “These men were hired to test you.”
“Test me?” Clifton towered over her, as commanding as a duke, every bit the pompous, arrogant man she’d so happily dismissed.
But now? She glanced up at his handsome, albeit furious, face. Took a glance at his lips, the ones that had been about to kiss her.
“Yes, test you.” She shuddered as she took stock of the poor fellows before her. “Oh, heavens, Sammy, you’re going to have a terrible shiner,” she told him, reaching out and gently touching his rough cheek. Then she glanced over at Rusty’s bloody nose. “And you’re not much better, I fear,” she told him. Rising, Lucy shook out her skirts again and turned to Clifton. “You’re bleeding as well. And your eye …” She flinched at the sight of it.
He swiped the back of his hand across his face, wincing as he touched it, but, with all the arrogance of a gentleman, he refused to give any ground. “ ’Tis of no matter,” he told her in his usual standoffish manner.
Lucy wasn’t fooled. “You won’t say that tomorrow when your eye is shuttered and you’ve bruises enough to deter even old Gertie’s interest.” She heaved a sigh. “Well, there is nothing left to do but take the lot of you home and get you fixed up.”
She went to help up the still reeling Sammy, but he was too much for her and she landed in a heap beside him. Glancing over her shoulder, she said in a voice as imperious as the earl’s, “Well, you might as well help, my lord, because you seem to be the only one left standing.”
“There now, Sammy,” Lucy said, bustling about the kitchen and holding out a beefsteak for the poor fellow’s battered face. “This ought to help.”
Carefully, she avoided looking over at the earl. For right now she felt as dazed as Sammy
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