How to Beguile a Beauty. Кейси Майклс

      “Oh, for the love of heaven. You ass, put that away.”

      “Why? It’s what he deserves. Wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t dirty my hands on him. Wouldn’t challenge him to a duel, either, wouldn’t be that stupid, when the man has no honor, fires early.”

      “Molton, we’ve had this discussion. While I admire your friendship with Robbie Farber, sentiment doesn’t alter facts. He turned early, and fired.”

      “Who cares a damn? Are we going to talk, or have us some fun?” one of the others said, slurring his words badly. “You promised Oliver and me some fun.”

      Lydia sat quietly, not daring to move, knowing she was hidden in both the shadows and by Tanner’s body. Fear froze her body, even as her mind raced to unlovely conclusions. There were three of them, and only Tanner to face them. They were drunk, and clearly eager for an unfair fight. Did the target matter all that much, or would any target do? Had it yet occurred to Tanner that being in the right did not necessarily lend him any sort of protection?

      Clearly not.

      “Is that true, Molton? You talked these two young fools into stretching Justin’s arms around a tree out here, while you whip him raw? Yes, that sounds like a notion that would appeal to you. I can see why you and Farber were bosom chums. Your shared sense of honor is evident. Well, so sorry to disappoint you all, but Wilde is gone, he isn’t here. Which, whether you choose to believe it or not, is damn lucky for the three of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is a lady present, not that any of you noticed. I wish to escort her back to the ballroom. Let us pass, and if you wish it, I’ll be more than happy to stand in for my good friend and then return to speak with you and your false courage some more.”

      He turned his back on the three men, extending his hand to her. “My apologies, Lydia. You should not have had to endure any of this. Let me take you back inside.”

      She heard the slither of the whip as its length was uncoiled onto the ground. “Tanner!” she called out in warning, leaping to her feet just to have him rather roughly push her toward the far side of the path, out of danger.

      But his need to protect her had cost him valuable moments.

      By the time he could turn, Molton had raised his hand, the whip already snaking out, meant to strike him across the back, its tip instead snapping against his cheek.

      Molton’s companions cheered at the quick eruption of blood, further emboldening him, so that he laughed and drew back the whip once more.

      But this time it was Tanner who moved first, as if he’d never even been touched. His left arm shot out so that the whip wound harmlessly around his covered forearm and he could grab the fat braiding. A quick pull on the whip threw Molton off-balance, for the fool’s wits were dulled with drink, and he hadn’t let go of the handle.

      With her hands pressed to her mouth so that she wouldn’t scream and distract him, Lydia watched as Tanner then made short work of the man, who now lay moaning rather piteously on the brick path thanks to several short, hard punches from Tanner’s right fist.

      He then picked up the whip and flourished it, its length snapping in the air like a thunderbolt, proclaiming his expertise with the thing.

      When he spoke, his voice was low, calm, cold as ice. “Anyone else? Come, come, gentlemen. You were looking for a good time. Don’t let me disappoint you.”

      The younger men, big and brawny, and perhaps brighter than their first acquaintance might have led anyone to believe, turned and ran back up the path, deserting Molton, who was now sitting up with both hands raised to his face. “M’nose…you bloody broke m’nose…”

      “And you deserved that, you cowardly beast,” Lydia said with feeling, and then quickly bit her bottom lip, horror-struck at her outburst.

      “Nasty fall you just took, Molton,” Tanner said, leaning down and lifting the man’s head by the simple expedient of grabbing at his lordship’s full head of hair. “Do you understand me? You came out into the gardens for a bit of fresh air, and you fell in the dark. That, or name your seconds. It’s your choice. Who knows, Robbie might be lonely in the graveyard, and crave your company. God knows nobody else does.”