His Midshipman
Page 5
“My lord, are you unwell?”
He nodded at her concern, thought better of it, then shook his head instead.
David smoothly tied off the reins and set the brake before Randall had his breathing under control. “A word with you, sir. You placed my sister’s life in danger, and I intend to give you a bit of my mind.”
“Oh, David, no. Lord Blair is very competent and has never before put me in danger, and I am sure…”
Snapping ebony eyes stilled her attempt at rescue. Randall was doomed, his future in ruins. He scrubbed his face again, resetting his features, hoping to calm chaotic emotions as well. “He is quite right, my lady. We will be but a moment, I’m sure. And a gentle set-down will likely do my humility good.”
“Oh, David, don’t.”
David raised a hand, and it carried as much command as Ol’ George himself.
Randall slid from the seat and followed two broad and very stiff shoulders. Shoulders he had last seen leaving his bed for an appointment with some solicitor or other. Shoulders on the man who had not, as promised, returned.
They reached a secluded spot under a large, stately oak and were only thirty feet or so from the phaeton, but there was one thing he had to know and it could wait no longer. “David. You disappeared. I tried to find you. I feared—”
David spun on his heels, flinging words along with spittle. “What are your intentions for my sister?”
So much for sentimentality. He straightened his back and stood to his full, intimidating height, which was approximately four inches taller than his accuser. “I have asked her to be my wife, and she accepted. The family is excited, and the banns have been sent, if not yet read. The family is quite thrilled with this match, it would seem.”
David grabbed Randall’s cravat and tightened his grip, making further comment impossible.
“You will not marry my sister, you bloody sodomite.”
He wiped moisture from his face and then applied a warning pressure to the long, elegant fingers cutting off his breath. The constricted cloth eased. “And who is calling me a bloody sodomite, Midshipman David…Smith, was it?”
David let go and shook his head. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed about using a fake name five years ago, but his expression was no less murderous. “There is a difference in that I am not trying to force my unnatural proclivities on an unsuspecting lady. I will not let you ruin her life.”
“Ruin? She will be a viscountess. She and I get along smashingly. How will that—”
“And do you plan to fuck every young military man on leave? Break her heart? Give her nothing of yourself? Pass on some disease?”
Randall turned away from the accusation that hit a little too close to home. But the new perspective was just as disconcerting—instead of an irate protective brother, there was lovely Prudence leaning half off her perch, taking in everything. Fortunately, they were too far away for her to hear. He turned back to the irate brother.
“I will not let you destroy her with your unnatural appetites.”
“And what will you do to stop me? Call me out? Under what pretense, pray tell? That I’m queer? And what evidence will you use?” He chanced much when he leaned in and ran a finger down David’s smooth, freshly shaven cheek. “That you know firsthand since you enjoyed my cock in this pretty little mouth…” He ran his finger to David’s full wide lips. “And in your—”
David flung off the offending caress. “You son of a… I will not let you do this. There is no way you can make her happy.”
“She seems quite happy to have me as husband. Likes my fair hair, she says. Says we will make pretty babies. And maybe, with a little convincing, you and I could—” He knew he’d pushed too far. He expected the punch. However, he prepared for a facer. One short punch to the gut, a lightning bolt to his jaw, and the conversation was over.
The world spun for a few seconds.
“David!” Prudence yelled.
“Leave my sister alone. Tell everyone you made a mistake. That the two of you will not suit. I will console the family.”
Randall shook his head. Damn. David had grown into a fine, strong, sneaky bastard in the past five years. Pain throbbed in his ears as he rubbed his jaw. No blood, nothing broken. And fortunately, his stomach only received a glancing blow.
The swish of silk stopped Randall’s retort.
“Oh, my dear, sweet Lord Blair.” Featherlight touches assessed his wholeness. Then she glared at her brother. “David, what are you about? This is my betrothed. He did nothing untoward and does not deserve this treatment.”
Randall grinned over Prudence’s shoulder, knowing he had just gained martyr status.
David turned a sickly color of purple, then grabbed Prudence’s arm and dragged her, protesting all the way, to the phaeton and the gray tethered behind.
He let them go; it was almost worth having to walk back home, watching Prudence attempt to scramble out of the vehicle, and David repeatedly pulling her back in as he drove away.
Almost worth walking. He stopped to pry a stone out of his soft leather sole. Unfortunately, strolling would give him too much time to think, and his current disposition was more suited to February’s perpetual haze than today’s perfect sunny weather.
Yes, the walk would take too long, too long indeed. His thoughts turned to the flashing black eyes of the man who had lied, loved, and then disappeared.
* * *
Copyright © Stephanie Lake
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