Page 12 of Temptress in Disguise
“Aye, I’ll have that fancy ring off yer finger as soon as blink,” came the threat from another quarter.
Aramis smiled to himself. The night was turning into one of the finest he’d had in years. What better way to pass a few hours than to fight drunken imbeciles and bed the delectable Miss Grant?
“I was told there’s honour amongst thieves.” Aramis hardened his tone. “I’ll fight anyone here for a place amongst your ranks. If I win, you’ll allow us to come and go as we please.”
“You’ll need someone to vouch for you,” said the scrawny fellow, swigging liquor from a dirty bottle. “Someone to find a worthy opponent.”
“You’ll do. Make the arrangements. You can have a tenth of the winnings.”
Mocking chuckles echoed in the cool night air.
Aramis had gained the horde’s attention.
“A tenth?” he cackled. “I’ll want half. That’s my price.”
“You can have it all in exchange for safe passage.”
The atmosphere sparked with excitement. The toothless brute almost fell over his own feet in shock. Suddenly, Aramis found himself under the man’s supervision and swamped by rogues keen to assess his physique.
“Where’s my wife?” Aramis snapped, searching the crowd. He’d not let these brutes think Miss Grant lacked protection. “I want her in my sights at all times, or I’ll not give you a damn penny.”
The fellow, who explained his name was Duckett because he’d lost his teeth due to poor timing, ushered Miss Grant forward.
“She has a loaded pistol,” Aramis said, dismissing the pang of pride in his chest. “But lay a hand on her, and I’ll gut you like a fish.”
“If you survive,” one brute sneered.
Aramis grinned. “You can’t kill the devil.”
While Duckett scuttled away to find an opponent and rouse the bystanders into a betting frenzy, Aramis shrugged out of his coat and handed it to Miss Grant.
“Sir, I must advise you to reconsider.” She ground her teeth together in agitation. “There are no Queensbury rules here.”
Her naiveté might have touched him, were his heart not encased in steel. “I’ve fought in dungeons and rat-infested cellars.” Aaron had ensured his brothers were skilled in the art of pugilism. “Fortune’s Den has its own fighting pit in the basement. We host a monthly event. The bouts are often brutal.”
The mention of the gaming hell he owned with his brothers had her nibbling her bottom lip. “You live there, I’m told.”
“I own numerous properties in town but prefer to live with my kin.” Before they exchanged vows, she needed to know he had no intention of leaving Fortune’s Den. “Regardless of our arrangement, I shall continue to do so. And my brother Aaron would never permit a woman to live above the gaming hell.”
“You have a sister living at home.”
“Delphine is the exception.”
They were too scared to let their sister out of their sight. Men neck-deep in debt were desperate enough to snatch Delphine and hold her for ransom. And then there was the secret no one spoke about, but that was another matter.
Beneath the soft shimmer of moonlight, Miss Grant watched him unbutton his waistcoat. He’d never had cause to seduce a woman. He’d never cared if a woman admired his physique. Yet he felt a deep ripple of desire when her gaze slid slowly over his muscular shoulders.
“Have you ever seen a man without his shirt?”
“Once.” She took receipt of his waistcoat and clutched his garments to her chest. “Though it is not a memory I care to revisit.”
“Turn away if you’re embarrassed.” He kept an indifferent tone though his blood boiled. Some wicked devil had hurt her. He’d learn his name and visit him in the dead of night. “If we’re to marry, you should become accustomed to the sight.”
She pursed her lips and nodded.
The glimmer of innocence coupled with her fierce spirit did odd things to his insides. He blamed it on the fact he’d never met a woman as fascinating as Miss Grant. That, and the primal urge to mate was compelling.
He fixed his eyes on hers as he untied his cravat and dragged his shirt over his head. What would she think of his hideous scar?
