Page 69 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
She spotted Nell tucked away in a shadowy corner of the ballroom, once again smiling and flirting with her handsome buccaneer.Good for her. At least one of them was enjoying the evening.
Macie glanced about, hoping to catch the attention of a passing server. A sip or two—or more—of champagne would be just the thing. She located a crisply dressed server, crossed the room to select a flute from his silver tray, and went in search of a retreat from the music and chatter and sounds she would ordinarily find quite pleasant. For the moment, all she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts.
She navigated past a gaggle of costumed socialites who murmured something they found rather humorous as she went past. Had they witnessed the awkward show she’d put on with Finn?
Let them have their laughter.She’d brought it on herself, now, hadn’t she?
Exiting the ballroom, she found herself in a gas-lit corridor. She tried to adjust to the sudden quiet. Odd, how it seemed so peculiar to be away from the noise of the party. Taking a small sip from her glass, she made her way down the hall. She spotted a door. Was that an entry to the gardens? A stroll in the fresh air might be just the tonic she needed.
Suddenly, a hand caught her elbow from behind.Definitely not Finn.He would not have pressed his fingers into her skin with punishing force.
Jerking free of the brutal hold, she whipped around. The ruff-wearing sot who’d suffered an undignified encounter with Finn stared at her. An ugly leer twisted his mouth. “You’re not enjoying yourself.” Reeking spirits on his breath assailed her. “I could change that.”
Blast the infernal luck.
“Do not ever put your hands on me again.” She gritted the words between her teeth.
“You don’t know who you’re talking to, do you?” He bit off the words with clear contempt.
“I do.” She hiked her chin. “And that, sir, is why I’m leaving.”
He reached for her again, but she slapped his hand away.
“Who do you think you are?” His mouth twisted into a scowl. “You’re nothing but a bloody merchant’s daughter.”
She turned to walk away. “You’ve said quite enough.”
He clamped rough fingers over her upper arm and yanked her around to face him. “Don’t you dare turn your back to me.”
Macie stared down at the glass in her hand. “Release me, you drunken cad.” With that, she tossed the champagne in his face.
His hold on her tightened like a vice as rage contorted his angular features into an ugly mask.
Fear trickled along her nape, but she would not show it. Macie met and matched his icy stare.
“Unhand me. Now.” She kept her voice under rigid control. “Or you will regret it.”
His grip eased. Had her words given him pause? His rough hold loosened, freeing her arm, but his fingers curled around the puffed sleeve of her gown.
“You’ve put yourself on a bloody shelf, so high and mighty. All you have to recommend you is your father’s—” His last word choked into a gasp as his hand fell away.
Macie looked up into Finn’s angry eyes. He’d seized the Shakespearean-attired boor by the edges of his collarless shirt. With a deliberate lack of speed, he hauled the rotter onto his toes.
Her pulse raced. She’d been prepared to put the tactics Jon had taught her to use. But the sight of Finn as he glared at the belligerent sot who now squirmed against his hold was something to behold. Most impressive, indeed.
“If ye value yer teeth, ye will not utter another word.” The quietness of Finn’s voice accentuated the danger in his tone.
The viscount’s eyes went wide. He nodded frantically.
“Evidently, I did not make myself clear the first time we spoke. If ye harass Miss Mason again, yewillanswer to me. Do ye take my meaning?”
Again, the boor nodded.
“Fortunately for ye, Miss Mason would prefer that I not resort to physical violence. Ye owe her a debt for her kind restraint.” Finn’s gaze hardened. “Personally, I would enjoy teaching ye a lesson, man to man.”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “That will not be necessary. I will not trouble her again.”
“Ye know what will happen if ye do, don’t ye?” The edge to Finn’s voice was hard as flint.
