Baron of Bad (Lords of Scandal 5)

“No, barely a flesh wound,” he murmured into her hair. “Now, let’s get you to the nearest town. You need food and rest.”

She nodded against his chest, not sure she wanted to go anywhere. That meant moving out of his arms. Later she’d remember all the reasons he irritated her. Right now, she liked it here. “How will we get there?”

“We’ll take Crusher’s carriage.”

“And Cristina?” Grace gulped. Somehow, she felt some sympathy for the woman and hated to leave her. “I don’t think I want to leave her body on the side of the road. I know she’s been awful but I…I feel sympathy for her too.”

“We’ll take her with us if you’d like.” Bad’s fingers stroked down Grace’s neck. “You’ll ride on the bench with me.”

“Thank goodness,” she answered taking a deep breath, drawing in his scent. “I didn’t want to leave her but…”

“I understand.”

She slipped her hands around his waist, which was amazingly slender compared with his shoulders. “Hello there,” a voice called from behind them. Before she could even process, Bad pushed her behind him.

“Who goes there?” he called out, pressing her to his back.

“No need to worry, neighbor. Theodore Bigsby is my name and when I’m not the butcher in the village just north of here, I’m a constable. Do you need assistance?”

“This man, he tried to take my wife,” Bad answered pointing toward Crusher.

A jolt of excitement, or perhaps surprise, shot through her at the word wife. Grace craned her neck to see over Bad’s shoulder. The butcher was a giant fellow, big and strong, and she shrank closer to Bad’s back, placing her hands at his waist.

“That’s your wife behind you?” Mr. Bigsby asked. Grace nodded against Bad’s back. He was right, it was far simpler to explain if everyone thought them married. But then she realized he couldn’t hear her. So, peeking over his shoulder she answered. “Y-Yes sir.”

Then she stepped up to Bad’s side. Without a word, his arm came about her shoulders. She marveled at how natural this action felt. “He…” she pointed down at the ground, “he shot my friend.”

Bad jolted against her but didn’t say a word as the constable began to assess the scene. “Your friend, she was defending you?”

“That’s correct,” Grace answered looking up at Bad. His nose was a bit crooked, almost as though it had been broken. She’d thought it unattractive at first but as she looked now, it occurred to her it was quite masculine.

The constable nodded. “Do you mind transporting them both into town in the carriage? We’ll get this whole business sorted quickly and have you both settled into the inn by nightfall.”

Grace swallowed. An inn? With Bad? Why hadn’t that occurred to her before now?

* * *

Bad glanced over at Grace as she sat on the bench next to him. Bloody hell, the woman was beautiful. Steal-the-breath-from-a-man’s-lungs sort of pretty. Her attractiveness never ceased to amaze him.

Even more amazing was the way she clung to his arm. As though he were the only solid structure in a windstorm. She had both her slender arms wrapped about one of his.

Drawing in a steadying breath, he made a note to himself. This was temporary. She didn’t like him and she’d return to her senses as soon as she was back with her family.

Besides, gorgeous as she was, he found her annoying. Or perhaps what he found bothersome was the fact that a woman like her would never really care about a street urchin like him. He’d learned to mask his low upbringing and he avoided many social engagements with his now peers. He’d learned in the early days of his barony that the upper class carefully watched every move and looked for any excuse to scorn. Sooner or later Grace would see through his thin veneer.

“We’re nearly there,” he said into the stretching silence.

“How can you tell?” she asked, lifting her head from his shoulder.

He reached over and placed an arm about her shoulders. She must be exhausted. “The houses, they’re growing closer and closer together.” Then, as if in answer, the main street of the village came into view.

In short order, the constable took over the carriage and Bad brought his horse to the stable. Then he walked Grace up the steps of the inn and quickly secured them a room and a private dining room.

The innkeeper’s wife brought them bowls of stew and freshly baked bread. Grace picked at her food.

Bad frowned, watching her. “You should eat, love. You must be starving.”

She looked up, her eyes shadowed and hollow. “I’m tired. And after what happened today…”