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stealthy movements at the front of his trousers. It wouldn t be long before the two came to an
understanding.
The second harlot, a red-haired wench, caught his gaze and tossed her head. She d already tried her
charms with him, and he d sent her away. Of course, if he flashed a purse now, she d be smiling soon
enough. The more ale he drank, the more he began to rethink turning the redhead down. He d been
randy for days now, and the object of his bone-on, despite her offer, wasn t likely to help him now, was
she?
Harry scowled into his ale. What had she been after, his Lady Georgina, when she invited him to her
private rooms? Not what he d wanted to think, that s for sure. The lady was a virgin, and the first rule of
aristocratic maidens was Guard well thy virginity. Don t, whatever you do, go handing it out to the hired
help. The lady had been looking for the thrill of a stolen kiss or two. He was forbidden fruit to her. Good
thing he d resisted her blandishments. Few men he knew could ve done so. He nodded and drank to his
own wisdom.
But then he remembered how she d looked earlier that night. Her eyes had been so blue and so unwary,
belying the temptation of her low neckline. Her breasts had seemed to glow in the firelight. The thought of
her even now made his too-alert prick come to attention. He frowned, disgusted at his own weakness.
Actually, none of the men he knew
Crash!
Harry jerked around.
Young Mr. Granville slid across a table, headfirst, knocking ale-filled glasses to the floor. Each glass
detonated with a small, wet explosion upon impact with the floor.
Harry took another swig from his mug. This wasn t his worry.
The men at the table weren t pleased. One fellow with hands the size of hams hauled Bennet upright by
his shirtfront. Bennet flailed at the other man, catching him a blow to the side of the head.
Not his worry.
Two other men grabbed Bennet s wrists, jerking them behind him. The man in front buried his fist in
Bennet s belly. Bennet doubled over. He tried to kick, but he was heaving bile from the blow to the
stomach. His feet missed his attacker by miles. Behind them, a tall woman threw back her head and
laughed drunkenly. She looked familiar, wasn t she . . . ? The big man drew back his fist again in
preparation.
Not his worry. Not his . . . oh, the hell with it.
Harry stood and drew the knife from his boot in one movement. No one was paying any attention to him
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and he was on the man about to hit Bennet before anyone noticed him. From this angle, a quick stab to
the side followed by a twist of the wrist would kill the man before he even fell. But death wasn t what
Harry was after. He sliced the man s face open instead. Blood gushed, blinding the man. He bellowed
and dropped Bennet. Harry slashed one of the men holding Bennet s wrists, then waved his blade in front
of the second man s eyes.
That one raised his hands.  Hold on! Hold on! We was only teaching him his manners!
 Not anymore, Harry whispered.
The man s eyes flickered.
Harry ducked in time to protect his head but not his shoulder as a chair smashed across his side. He
turned and stabbed. The man behind him howled, clutching a bleeding thigh. Another crash and the
thwack of flesh hitting flesh. Harry realized that Bennet was standing back-to-back with him. The aristo
wasn t as pie-eyed as he d thought. He was able to fight, at least.
Three men charged at once.
Harry leaned to the side, helping a man pass him with a punch and a shove. A yellow-haired man with a
knife came at him. This man had some experience with knife fighting. He gripped a cloak in his free hand
and tried to foil Harry s dagger with it. But the yellow-haired man hadn t fought in the places Harry had.
Or ever fought for his life.
Harry grabbed the cloak and yanked the man hard. The man stumbled, tried to recover his balance, and
found that Harry had him by the hair. Harry pulled the man back, arching his neck, and pointed his knife
tip at the man s eye. Balls and eyes. Those were the two things men feared losing most. Threaten either,
and you had a man s full attention.
 Drop it, Harry hissed.
Sweat and piss assaulted his nostrils. The yellow-haired man had lost control of his bladder. He d also
dropped his knife, and Harry kicked it. It skittered across the floor, sliding under a table. The tavern was
quiet. The only sound was Bennet s labored breathing and the sobbing of one of the sluts.
 Let him go. Dick Crumb came out from the back.
 Tell them to back off. Harry pointed with his chin at the three men
still standing.
 Go on. You don t want to be messing with Harry when he s in a mood.
No one moved.
Dick raised his voice.  Go on! There ll be more ale for them that wants it.
The mention of ale was magic. The men grumbled but turned away. Harry let his hand drop. The
yellow-haired man fell to his knees, whimpering.
 Better get Granville out of here, Dick muttered as he passed with mugs.
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Harry took Bennet s arm and shoved him toward the door. The younger man wobbled, but at least he
kept upright. Outside, the air was chill and Bennet gasped. He put out a hand to steady himself against
the tavern wall, and for a moment Harry thought the man would be sick. But then he straightened.
Harry s bay mare stood beside a larger chestnut gelding.  Come on, he said.  Best to be away before
they finish their drinks.
They mounted and started off. It had begun to drizzle again.
 Guess I should thank you, Bennet spoke suddenly.  Didn t think you d come to the aid of a Granville.
 Do you always start brawls without anyone at your back?
 Nah. Bennet hiccupped.  This was a spur-of-the-moment thing. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]