Page 118 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
“Iwillgut you.” Aylesworth ground out the words between his teeth.
Finn eyed the man’s jerky movements. The angrier Aylesworth was, the more he took the bait. Each thrust of knife was wilder. More imprecise.
“You’re a dead man.”
Finn shook his head. “Not bloody likely.”
With that, he lunged, quick as a whip. Catching Aylesworth’s wrist, he gave a hard twist. Then another. Aylesworth groaned.
Finn wrenched the man’s arm. Aylesworth groaned, but kept his fingers stubbornly clenched around the knife.
“Drop it.” Finn added more force to his hold. “Or I’ll snap yer bloody arm.”
“Go to hell.”
“Not tonight, ye rotter.”
Finn gave the bastard’s captive limb another vicious twist. Aylesworth’s raw cry filled the room.
The blade clattered to the floor.
Finn pinned him in an agonizing hold. “Ye should not have touched her.”
“Bugger off.”
A sudden, piercing pain radiated from Finn’s thigh. Gritting his teeth, he stared down at the ivory handle protruding from his leg.
A switchblade.
Bollocks.
He should’ve known the bastard would have a hidden knife. The cur had always fought dirty.
Shock filled Aylesworth’s eyes. Finn cocked a brow. Had the rotter truly believed a bit of pain would get the better of him?
He tightened his grip, blocking the man’s attempt to take hold of the pocket-sized knife he’d thrust into Finn.
“Ye’re mad if ye think I’m letting ye go after her.”
Aylesworth glared at him, defiant despite Finn’s unwavering hold. “Crude brawler... nothing more.” Blood dripped down the bastard’s face as his mouth twisted into something resembling a grotesque grin. “Finish this, Caldwell.”
“Ye think I should kill ye, eh?” Finn gulped a breath, tamping down his anger and his pain. “The thought is bloody tempting.”
Fear glazed Aylesworth’s eyes. “I will not endure prison.”
“Don’t worry, mate. Yer stay there won’t be long. The hangman will not be cheated out of his due.”
Aylesworth struggled against his hold. “Go to hell.”
“Ye’ll get there first.”
Suddenly, Aylesworth’s leg kicked out, catching Finn below the knee. Another kick landed within a hand’s breadth of the knife.
Bloody hell.
Finn ground his teeth and held the dirty cur in an iron-clad grip. He eyed the bastard, seeing the bloodlust in Aylesworth’s gaze. If he gave in to the throbbing pain, the bastard would win. He’d go after Macie.
By hellfire, this was one fight he couldn’t lose.
