Page 53 of Madcap with a Marquess
“Now darlin, are you goin’ to be a good wench for me? I don’t have to worry ‘bout you using them teeth of yours, now do I? Perhaps we need a little assurance. To be safe. Bert, I think a knife to her back would be wise,” the man in front of her said.
Those were words of a dead man.
“I would advise you to reconsider whether that is a wise decision,” Rupert said softly. Lethally sharp in how it sliced through the night.
“An’ who in the bloody hell do you think you are?” the man scoffed.
“I am the Marquess of Rutledge.” He cracked his knuckles.
The man snorted. The two other men shifted; the whites of their eyes stark in the moonlight.
“I would suggest you remove your hands from my wife. Immediately.”
“I don’t want no trouble,” one of the men said in a low rasp. He dropped Franny’s arms and stumbled backwards toward the stables.
“You’re saying this chit is a highborn lady? Without a shilling to her name?” He let out a snort. “I’m not buying it. Just trying to steal another man’s fun,” the man in front of Franny said.
He appeared to be the leader. And the one with the smallest brain.
Rupert growled and started forward, his muscles tightening in anticipation. The sandbags in his wine cellar helped take the edge off, but they were a poor imitation of the real thing. A true fight. The cellar bags absorbed the blows, but they didn’t fight back. They didn’t give him the impact of knuckles against flesh, the sharp crack of bone, the draw of blood. Nowthatwas what he needed.
The shorter man behind Franny released her hair, raising his hands in surrender. “It’s not worth the risk, Lionel,” the man murmured.
Franny twisted and shot up, driving her shoulder into the shorter man’s groin. He should have known his girl wouldn’t take her assault lying down.
Rupert was moving before his brain registered his actions. He lunged for the man who had exposed himself to Franny. They slammed into the ground, the man breaking the fall for Rupert. His left hand instantly went to the man’s throat, his other pulling back, then crashing into the man’s face. The smack of flesh on flesh rang through the night. Rupert growled, adrenaline careening through his veins. There was nothing more satisfying than smashing a man’s face, of a battle well fought.
The man threw his own punch, snapping Rupert’s head back, but Rupert shook it off. He didn’t feel pain. He felt nothing but fury, fury erupting from him, coursing through his blood, underneath his skin.
There was only one thing on his mind.
One objective.
Murder.
The scum beneath him thrashed and bucked, forcing them into a roll, and Rupert found himself trapped beneath the man. Hand still at his assailant’s throat, Rupert squeezed. The man’s hands pulled frantically at Rupert’s, but Rupert’s grip was unbreakable. He wouldn’t be letting go.
Choked gasps filled the night air, and then the sharp grit of gravel and dirt scraped across Rupert’s face, whatever debris the man had picked up off the ground embedding in Rupert’s skin.
He let out a roar and whipped his head forward, smashing it into the man’s face. A sharpcrackrent the air. The man screamed, falling off Rupert and gripping his face. Rupert grinned, a dark chuckle escaping him. Busted the cove’s bloody nose.
Rupert stood, the man’s groan echoing through the still night air, mingling with the sound of heavy exhalations and scuffling. Rupert turned, his gaze landing on Franny grappling with her other captor in the dirt. Franny thrashed wildly beneath her weighty assailant. Who was about to be fed his ballocks for dinner.
Rupert strode over to them and leaned down. He wrapped his hand around the man’s throat. Squeezed. And lifted. The man choked, his shocked exhalation a mere gurgle.
Rupert cocked his head. “Tsk, Tsk. I said to remove your hands from my wife.”
The man’s face began to darken. Probably purpling from lack of oxygen, Rupert mused, though he couldn’t be sure in the dark of the night. The man opened and closed his mouth, but nothing more than a gagging rasp escaped.
Rupert grabbed the man’s shirt with his free hand and heaved him backwards. The scum fell flat on his fat arse, his head following with a hard smack on the ground. The man lay motionless. Excellent.
Chest heaving, Rupert turned to see the other assailant stirring. Rupert advanced on the man. Apparently, the first beating wasn’t enough for the blackguard.
“You dare to expose yourself to my wife?” Malice dripped from his voice, and he pulled his blade from his pocket. “Considering what you had planned for her, let’s see what you think of having your ballocks shoved down your throat.”
A gentle hand settled on his forearm, and he paused. He stared at the pale hand softly curved over the sleeve of his black coat. He caught Franny’s gaze, and the breath halted in his lungs. Emotion roiled in her eyes, darkened and amplified by the night. And all of a sudden, he desperately wanted to storm off with her to a remote cave and prove to them both that they were safe, unharmed. Alive.
“Rupert,” she whispered. “Leave him. Take me home.”
