lids.
‘Nevertheless,’ Jane said determinedly, ‘I absolutely forbid either of you to continue with this foolishness.’
Hawk looked down at her as she stood between himself and Whitney, a hand still on each of their chests. A completely ineffective gesture when both men were inches taller than she, with powerfully muscled chests and arms that could easily have put her tiny form to one side before they continued with their argument.
That neither man chose to do so was due in part, Hawk knew, to the fact that Jane looked so magnificent in her outrage. The red vibrancy of her hair seemed almost to crackle like flame, her eyes glittered like emeralds, her normally full lips were thinned to a disapproving line, and those creamy breasts were quickly rising and falling in her agitation.
A glance across at Whitney showed the indulgent laughter lurking in the other man’s eyes, as he too looked at the spitting little vixen Jane resembled in her outrage.
She really did think that she was stopping the two men from fighting with a paltry hand on their chests. And she ‘absolutely’ forbade them from duelling.
It was too much to endure. For either man.
Jane looked at the two men incredulously as first the Duke and then the Earl burst into deep-throated laughter.
Laughing? After the last few fraught minutes the two men were now actually laughing together?
Seconds ago she had been literally terrified—either that the Duke was going to be killed or else put in prison for killing the Earl of Whitney. Both prospects had filled her with dread.
And now, instead of duelling the two men were laughing together. Her own indignant expression seemed only to increase their humour. The Earl was actually bent double, his hands braced on his knees, as he laughed so long and heartily he could barely catch his breath. The Duke fared little better, almost seeming to have tears in his eyes as he openly guffawed.
Jane stood, hands on hips, bristling with indignation at this unwarranted humour. ‘Perhaps when you two gentlemen have ceased this hysteria, one or both of you might care to tell me the source of your amusement?’
‘I am afraid you are, dear Jane.’The Earl was the first to regain some sort of decorum as he straightened to take a handkerchief from his pocket and dab the moisture from his eyes. ‘Just now, as you stood so bravely between the two of us, you gave every appearance of a bantam hen rebuking her chicks!’He gave a rueful shake of his head.
‘You were laughing at me?’ Jane breathed disbelievingly, her eyes wide as she glared first at the Duke and then the Earl.
‘Unforgivable, I know, Jane. But nonetheless true,’ the Earl confirmed, a smile still curving his lips.
Not a good move, as Hawk could have warned the other man—but he chose not to, and two bright spots of temper appeared in Jane’s cheeks.
‘You were laughing at me?’ she repeated softly. ‘Do you have any idea how ridiculous the two of you looked a few minutes ago? How absolutely—’
‘That is enough, Jane,’ Hawk cut in sternly.
‘After your most recent—your absolutely childish behaviour just now, you will not even attempt to tell me what to do, Your Grace!’ She turned on him fierily.
‘She is priceless, Stourbridge,’ Whitney remarked admiringly. ‘Absolutely delicious!’
Hawk’s humour had faded as suddenly as it had occurred, but he sobered completely as he realised he did not care for the other man’s last comment. ‘Now, listen here, Whitney—’
‘Not again!’ Jane burst out exasperatedly, her tiny hands now clenched into fists at her sides. ‘I wish I had let the two of you duel. I wish you had pierced each other through the heart with your swords. I wish—Oh, never mind what I wish!’she concluded disgustedly. ‘If you two gentlemen will excuse me?’ She turned sharply on her heel—not in the direction of the ballroom, but towards the steps leading down into the moon-shadowed garden.
Hawk’s hand snaked out to grasp her wrist. ‘Where do you think you are going?’
‘I do not think I am going anywhere—I am going into the garden!’ Her eyes glittered up at him in challenge.
Hawk refused to release her arm. ‘I cannot stand by and let you walk off into the darkness, Jane—’
‘I do not advise you to try and stop me, Your Grace!’
Green eyes battled with gold for several seconds, before Jane lifted her slippered foot and brought the heel down forcefully on top of Hawk’s instep. The unexpectedness of the attack caused him to move sharply backwards and so loosen his grip on her wrist. A lapse in concentration that Jane took full advantage of as, with one last sweeping look of disgust, she turned and marched away.
In the direction of the garden—as she had said she would!
‘Magnificent!’ the Earl murmured wonderingly as he stared after her. ‘Truly magnificent.’
Despite—or because of—the pain in his foot, Hawk bristled angrily. ‘You will stay away from her, Whitney!’
The other man turned to look at him with amused eyes. ‘Will I?’
‘Yes, you damn well will—’
‘Surely that is for the lady to decide?’Whitney taunted. ‘Unless, as I suggested earlier, you have a prior claim…?’
Hawk drew in a sharp breath. ‘Jane is my ward—’
‘So you have said.’ The other man nodded. ‘But from what I have just witnessed I would say the young lady has a definite mind of her own.’
Hawk could not deny that. Nor could he deny that, if anything, he admired that trait in Jane even more than Whitney did.
He knew her to be priceless. And delicious. And magnificent…!
‘Yes, she does,’he confirmed tightly. ‘But I can assure you that she is also one hundred per cent of sound mind!’
The Earl quirked blond brows. ‘I trust, Stroubridge, that you are not implying that she would have to be out of her mind to be attracted to me?’
‘And if I were?’
The older man shrugged. ‘I have already told you I will be more than happy to meet you at a time and place of your choosing…’
Yes, he had. But Hawk knew, despite what Jane had said minutes ago, that she would never forgive him if he should enter into a duel with the Earl of Whitney with her at the centre of it.
That he was even thinking of doing so told Hawk just how ludicrous this situation had become.
He was the Duke of Stourbridge. The formidably correct Duke of Stourbridge. A man with a deliberately spotless reputation. A man he had heard his peers hold up to their children as an example of one of the finest members of the aristocracy, for them to emulate.
And yet here he was, on the terrace of his
