To Seduce a Bride (Courtship Wars)

It remained for him to convince Lily, however. An immense challenge, Heath was well aware.

But fighting it would do her no good-

“You there! Stop that at once!”

Her sudden shout startled him abruptly out of his reverie.

Lily was staring down an alley they were passing, Heath realized an instant before she suddenly whirled her mare and took off down the narrow lane, leaving him in her dust again.

Chapter Six

Perhaps my agreeing to play the game was a mistake after all. At this rate he could very well win.

– Lily to Fanny

Heath muttered an oath under his breath, but when Lily shouted once more, her fury told him this was not another attempt to elude him and make it harder for him to win points in their game.

Her mare’s hooves clattering on the cobblestones, she charged down the alley toward a gathering of brawny youths at the far end. It took Heath another moment to understand what had infuriated her so: The ruffians were brandishing thick sticks at a dog, taking turns beating the animal’s cringing body.

Voicing a more vivid curse, Heath turned his horse and set off after Lily. He was hard on her heels when she drew rein and practically threw herself from the saddle.

His heart in his throat, he watched as she waded into the throng of rowdies, her fists flailing, her cries of outrage startling the lads.

“Stop tormenting that poor creature, you louts! Stop this instant!”

Since she had the advantage of surprise, every one of the half-dozen toughs staggered back defensively, clearly stunned by the Fury who had descended in their midst. But when they realized their attacker was only a woman-and a genteel lady at that-the rabble turned on Lily in unison, waving their sticks threateningly.

She got the better of the nearest one, ferociously kicking him in the shins just as Heath flung himself off his horse and entered the fight. Fear and fury flooding him, he grabbed the shoulder of a muscled lummox, dealing a punishing blow with his fist and knocking the oaf to the cobblestones.

Seeing another burly youth raise his stick high to strike Lily, Heath jerked the wood from his grasp and swung it like a club at his gut, landing a powerful whack that elicited a sharp cry of pain. Clutching his belly, the lout reeled backward and then lunged off, groaning.

In the face of Heath’s relentless wrath, the other bullies capitulated at once. And when they raced away, their fallen accomplice struggled to his feet and limped off after them.

“Yes, run, you worthless mawworms!” Lily shouted in their wake.

She had sunk to her knees, Heath saw, and was cradling the trembling dog in her arms, shielding it from harm with her body. She had lost her hat and veil in the melee, and her dark eyes were giving off sparks.

His own fury ebbing a small measure, Heath joined Lily on the ground as she bent over the shaking animal and crooned softly.

“Oh, you poor, frightened sweetheart. No one will hurt you now, I promise.”

The dog was a mongrel bitch, Heath realized, mangy and flea-bitten and clearly battered. Her brown fur was matted with blood while a nasty gash welled over one eye.

As Lily stroked the ragged head gently, Heath ran his hands carefully over the mutt’s body. When he reached the ribs that stuck out beneath her coat, she whimpered at his touch, but that seemed to be the most serious of her injuries.

“Her ribs are bruised but likely not broken,” Heath said, finishing his examination.

“Thank heavens,” Lily breathed, even as she glanced murderously back down the alley. “But those sorry wretches may return to torment this poor creature. We cannot leave her here.” She glanced down tenderly at the dog. “And her wounds need tending.”

The “poor creature” seemed to understand Lily’s intent, for she licked her hand feebly in gratitude, the brown eyes looking up at her with adoration.

“I shall take you home with me,” Lily said, bestowing a soft smile on the animal.

“To the boardinghouse?” Heath asked dubiously.

“Yes. She can stay in my room.”

He couldn’t quite picture Fleur and Chantel welcoming the dirty mongrel into their elegant abode. “Your friends will hardly thank you.”