Page 38 of Tempting the Scoundrel
Exquisite.
Alexandra leaned forward, riveted by the sight of her husband blocking and striking, as fierce and brutal as a predator. She knew the movements of his body—they were so familiar to her, even after four years—but he had been pretending with Latimer, moments ago. A lion playing the part of a gazelle.
“Why . . . ?” She shook her head. She didn’t understand.
Mr. O’Sullivan lifted a shoulder. “Thorne makes the fight look fair. Better for business if he gets hit a few times.”
Alexandra stiffened. She recalled all those times they had met in Hampshire. She had taught him to float. Taught him to swim.Thorne makes the fight look fair. That, too, was a skill he had perfected in Stratfield Saye. Another of his many deceptions: to make you think yourself on equal footing, only to discover it had all been an act.
Suddenly the fight below seemed like another of his games. More lies.
Alexandra stepped back—she wasn’t about to watch this any longer—but then she saw something that stole her breath.
Latimer had a knife.
“Nick!” She cried his name without thinking.Stupid. Stupid.
Her scream drew Nick’s attention—and that careless moment of distraction was all it took. Latimer swiped the blade, and Alexandra gasped as it tore through Nick’s shirt. She didn’t wait. She pushed past Mr. O’Sullivan and tore down the stairs.
The group of men gawking at the fight blocked Alexandra’s way. She dove into the hollering crowd, elbowing a few imbeciles out of her way. Alexandra came to a halt as she reached the front. Nick’s grey waistcoat was bloody, and there were rips in the arm of his coat. Latimer may not have had her husband’s skill at combat, but he clearly made up for it in raw anger.
Latimer lunged. Nick leaped back to avoid the blade, his expression more irritated than alarmed. “Put the knife away and I won’t break your fucking wrist, Latimer.”
“You stripped my house, you Irish piece of shit.” Latimer’s words were slightly slurred. Alexandra couldn’t tell if he was inebriated or if Nick had hit him too hard. “You left me withnothing.”
Nick’s smile was grim. “Left you the house. Unless you want to bet that, too.”
Latimer snarled and swiped. Nick dodged and delivered a hard smack to the side of Latimer’s face. Was he eventryingto end this? She suspect he was giving the crowd a show.
Enough of this.
“Latimer,” Alexandra snapped. “Put down that knife this instant.”
The earl didn’t even look at her. “Bringing your wife to a fight, Thorne?”
“Alex goes where she damn well pleases.” Nick flashed Alexandra a smile that made it very clear: he had known she was there watching, and hewasgiving a show.
Only not to the crowd—her.
She glared at her husband, but addressed the earl again. “Latimer, put down that knife, or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” Latimer lifted a lip. “You’re the reason Lady Elaine called off our wedding. You and this bastard make one hell of a pair since you’ve both ruined me.” He whirled on Nick and gestured with his blade. “You ought to tell us all how you got this one to fuck you, Thorne. I didn’t know a single man who’d risk bedding her. We all thought her frigid cunt would freeze our cocks off.”
Nick’s chin dropped. Rage clouded his dark eyes. Gone was the man having a bit of fun with an idiot aristocrat before throwing him onto the street. No, this was the King of the East End. This was the man who was rumored to kill his enemies in the shadows.
Nick’s gaze flicked to hers.No,she thought.Let me handle this.
A small lift of his lips indicated he understood her silent message.
Alexandra strode up behind Latimer. The earl was a fool, distracted by the larger opponent rather than the woman he’d insulted at his back. She grasped his arm to whirl him around. The moment of surprise worked: Alexandra slapped the knife out of Latimer’s hand and punched him in the face.
Latimer howled. “Youcunt.”
She hit him again. The men around them hollered as Latimer collapsed onto the plush red carpet with a gushing nose. “You didn’t get me, Latimer, because I deserved better than any of you.”
Alexandra looked up at the crowd of men gaping at her. “Gentlemen, stop gawking and go back to what you were doing.” When they didn’t move, she snapped, “Now.”
Mumbling amongst themselves, the men in suits dispersed, and Alexandra flagged down a few of the staff who had watched the show. “Remove this man from the premises, if you please. Then have someone bring clean bandages to Mr. Thorne’s suite.”
