“Fine by me.” He yanked her forward, and she slammed against his broad chest. Jerking her arm up behind her back, he bent over her. “I like a bit of a fight.”
“Stop!” Laura wedged her other arm between them and pushed with all her strength, turning her head aside. A sharp pain shot up her twisted arm. “Let go of me!”
Behind them a man loudly cleared his voice. “I beg your pardon.”
Merton straightened to glare over Laura’s head at the man who had dared interrupt him. His grip slackened enough for Laura to turn, easing the pain in her shoulder, and edge away from Merton.
A tall, thin man, his face shadowed by a hat, stood at the edge of their yard, a team of horses and a carriage behind him. His pose was studiedly careless, weight on one leg and a hand resting lightly on the head of a gold-knobbed cane. In a cool, faintly bored voice, steeped in aristocratic hauteur, he went on, “It appears your suit is unwelcome to the lady.”
“What business is it of yours?” Merton snarled.
“Well, you see, I have come to speak with her father.” He swept off his hat and sketched a bow to Laura. “Good afternoon, Miss Hinsdale. I hope I have not arrived at an inopportune time.”
“James de Vere?” Laura stared. Graeme’s cousin was the last person she expected to see in her yard. He looked older and thinner than the last time she’d seen him, when he’d come to inform her that she must give up the man she loved. But he was just as coldly handsome, his tone as supercilious. It was humiliating that he of all people should find her grappling with Sid Merton in front of her house. Even more humiliating, given her current situation, she must hope for his help.
Beside her, Merton let out a short, harsh laugh. “I wish you luck with that.”
Sir James’s brows lifted faintly at the words, but he ignored Merton, saying, “If you would be so kind, Miss Hinsdale, I would appreciate a bit of your time. If, of course, you are not otherwise occupied.”
“I am perfectly free.” Laura took another step away, jerking her arm as hard as she could. Merton’s grip did not loosen.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Merton growled.
James turned a disdainful gaze on him. “You, my good man, are becoming tiresome.”
“Tiresome!” Merton gaped at him.
“Time you left, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think.” Merton tossed back James’s words in a smug, singsong mockery.
“Mm. Clearly.”
The large man flushed with anger. Naturally, Sir James would come to one’s rescue in an irritating manner. Even the way he stood was insulting, too certain he would have his way to bother bracing for a fight. His arrogance would probably cow many men, but Sid Merton was a bully used to relying on his size and his fists to get what he wanted. It would take more than a haughty attitude to intimidate him.
“Sir James . . .” Laura began in a conciliatory fashion, hoping she could convey to him the need to tread lightly.
Both men ignored her.
“You’re the one who’s leaving.” Merton scowled menacingly, his free hand knotting into a fist.
“I think not. For the last time, release Miss Hinsdale and go.”
Merton let out a scornful laugh, making a show of looking the other man up and down. “You think you’re going to make me?”
“No.” James smiled thinly. He snapped his fingers, and the largest dog Laura had ever seen jumped out of the open carriage door. “He is.”
chapter 3
There was a dead silence as both Laura and Merton gaped at the dog. The top of his square head was level with James’s waist—and James was a tall man. The animal’s muscular body was a mottled combination of black and yellowish tan, but the muzzle and face were entirely black, as if he wore a mask, and it rendered his eyes barely visible, giving him an even more sinister appearance.
James flicked his hand toward Laura. “Guard her.”
The dog stalked over—he was even more terrifying at close range—and took up a stance beside Laura, fixing Merton with his unswerving gaze. Color drained from the big man’s face and he dropped Laura’s arm. Shooting her a final vicious look, Merton whirled and strode away, not glancing in Sir James’s direction.
Laura’s stunned gaze followed him for a moment, then went to James. Gratitude mingled awkwardly with her years-old dislike. “I, um, thank you.”
Sir James gave a careless shrug and strolled toward her. As he drew close, she could see that purplish shadows were smudged beneath his eyes and his face was etched with lines of weariness. “I could hardly allow the churl to accost you. And he was annoying me.”