When the Duchess Said Yes (Wylder Sisters) by Isabella Bradford

Author:Isabella Bradford
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780345527325
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2012-09-25T05:00:00+00:00

Hawke jerked upright, shielding Lizzie. He knew that voice, drunk or sober: Sir Richard Avant, baronet. While they’d ostensibly been at school, he and Avant had shared enough misdeeds and mischief to entertain a whole regiment, and he’d never forget that braying voice.

But not here, not now. And definitely not directed at Lizzie.

He could just make out the wherry with a gentleman beside the waterman, straining to keep pace with them. The barge was already leaving the other vessel behind, the distance between them growing with every second. As it was, he could scarcely see their shadow any longer. He could have ignored Avant entirely and pretended he hadn’t heard him. Likely Avant was so drunk that he’d forget he’d seen Hawke, let alone Lizzie.

And yet because it was Lizzie—and because Hawke had been drinking, too, as well as having been unceremoniously interrupted from the most enjoyable seduction of his life—he could not keep quiet.

“Shut your mouth, Avant, you drunken whoreson,” he roared across the water. “The lady’s not one of your posed wenches, but my goddess, mind? My goddess!”

Avant did not reply, at least not that Hawke could hear. But from another boat came a loud huzzah of approval, and someone else applauded. Satisfied, even vindicated, he turned back to Lizzie.

She wasn’t leaning against the mermaid any longer, and after a split second’s concern, he found her, huddled on the deck. With his coat draped over her shoulders like a tent, she sat with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and her skirts pulled tightly over them, her face hidden by the damp tangle of her hair. She had also pulled her bodice back in place, which, though regrettable, was probably for the best.

At once remorse swept through him, and he quickly crouched down before her.

“Lizzie,” he said softly, smoothing her hair from her forehead. “Are you well?”

Swiftly she looked up. “Of course I am well. I only wished to not be in your way, that was all. Do you know that man?”

“I regret to admit that I do,” he said contritely. “Or I did.”

“That low, despicable rogue,” she said with a fury he hadn’t expected. “That vile, disgusting worm! He is no gentleman, that is certain.”

“No,” Hawke agreed, resolving never to give her any reason to call him names. “He’s only a baronet. He’d no right to address me so familiarly, not without my leave.”

“But what he said of me, Hawke!” she said. “I will never forgive him. That is, I will never meet him to be able to forgive him. Is he gone now? Did he flee like the liverish coward he must be?”

“Gone,” Hawke said. “Lizzie, I’m sorry that—”

“No!” she said fiercely, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for, Hawke, nothing! You told him exactly what needed to be said, the filthy rascal, and—and—no one has ever, ever defended me like that!”

She kissed him again, most enthusiastically, leaving him no choice but to kiss her in return. He’d never been a hero to a woman like this before.

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