Page 72 of Three Weeks with a Princess
As calmly as she could, she reached behind her head and untied her mask. When she pulled it down, Prudhoe’s mouth sagged open.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “You’re the Kincaid girl.”
“I am also the cousin of the Duchess of Leverton and, more to the point, the niece of Lady Hunter.” Lia gave him a bright, artificial smile. “You do know who my aunt’s husband is, do you not? Sir Dominic Hunter is a magistrate, and an extremely powerful one, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”
He stared at her for a few seconds longer, clearly stunned. But then he shrugged it off, as if her words held no more inconvenience than a pesky fly. Her gambit had failed to have the desired effect. It probably didn’t help that the man was likely made reckless by intoxication.
“I also know what happened at the Leverton ball,” he said. “You were exposed as a whore, just like your mother. And if you were still under the protection of Dominic Hunter, you wouldn’t be cavorting with whores at a Cyprians’ ball.”
“I’m simply enjoying an evening out with friends,” she said.
He ignored that bit of errant nonsense. “I’d also wager you’re looking for a protector, aren’t you?” he mused. “What other choice do you have? No decent man would have you, naturally. You’re soiled goods.”
Blast.He might be drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. Lia had now effectively put her fate into the hands of the worst sort of person and there would be no recovering from it.
He patted his chest. “Well, I’m happy to inform you that you’ve found your new protector. Your little friend Amy has grown most dreary; it’s time to replace her with someone fresh. In fact, I’ve a mind to have a little taste right now. Shall we see what’s between those sweet thighs of yours?”
Desperately, Lia tried to pull Amy to her feet. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I’m going to do more than touch you,” Prudhoe snarled.
His hand shot out so quickly that he caught her off guard. His fingers curled into her bodice, slipping inside her stays. Lia tried to pull away, but he easily yanked her against him. His strength was frightening.
“Let me go, you bastard,” she growled. His other arm went around her, his fingers digging into her side. Still she managed to dodge his wet, openmouthed kiss as he bobbed down.
“Let her go,” Amy shrieked, trying to shove at Prudhoe’s legs while still holding on to Lia.
She appreciated the effort, but Amy’s weight was throwing her off balance. Lia clamped her lips shut for what she knew would be a slobbering, disgusting kiss. But perhaps when Prudhoe was occupied with that nasty business, she’d be able to get enough purchase to give him a knee to the groin.
Then she felt a rush of movement from behind her and something as hard as stone butted against her back—something warm and blessedly familiar. The clean, masculine scent of him, the shape of his muscular frame—she knew it all instantly, as well as she knew herself.
Prudhoe’s hold on her bodice loosened and he went slack-jawed with surprise. He took two quick steps back.
“You’d best listen to the girl,” Jack said in a voice that promised death. When she shivered at his icy tone, his hands curled protectively over her hips. “Because if you ever touch her again, I will bloody well tear you apart. Or maybe I’ll just do that anyway, for the fun of it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Prudhoe snatched his hand away. Despite the alarm flaring in his gaze, he managed a credible sneer. “No need for threats, Lendale. How was I to know the girl was yours? Besides, I barely touched her.”
Yes, she’s mine.
The words rang like a clarion bell in Jack’s head.
“That’s the only reason you’re not lying in a mangled heap on the floor.” He glanced down at Amy Baxter, who was huddled against Lia’s leg. The dancer sported nasty bruises on her cheek and jaw and her lip was cut. She wiped a shaking hand across her tearstained face, smearing blood and makeup in a ghastly trail of red.
“Then again,” Jack said softly, “maybe I’ll beat you to a pulp anyway.”
He pulled Lia more snuggly against him. Her sweet bottom pressed against his groin and her lush hips curved under his fingertips. Dressed as she was, she was a fantasy and a dream unfulfilled—hisdream. He’d been resisting that realization for weeks, but seeing Prudhoe’s filthy hands all over Lia’s body had brought the lesson home with thundering clarity—and horrific timing.
“Certainly no one could blame you,” Lia said in a crisp voice. “But the better course of action would be to call the constable. Sir Nathan should be arrested immediately.”
She twisted in Jack’s arms to look at him. Her color was high and her sky-blue eyes glittered with residual fury, but she didn’t seem frightened or cowed.
Although he was enormously grateful the bastard hadn’t injured her, Jack had to bite down on the impulse to thunder out an epic scold. Never had he seen a situation more out of control, for a dozen reasons he intended to outline once he got Lia alone. She’d gone entirely beyond the pale this time. It would be a miracle if he managed to salvage the tattered remnants of her reputation.
She gave him an encouraging smile. “Shall I ask a footman or the butler to fetch the constable, or shall we take Sir Nathan to Bow Street ourselves?”
Amy tugged on Lia’s skirts. “Miss, please don’t.”
