Walking forward, Leigh held her shoulders and head high as if unafraid of anything, or them. She tried to pass between them without speaking. It didn’t work; each grabbed at a wrist. As she yanked backward to free herself before they got a good grip, her maneuver put them between her and the alley entrance again.
“How dare you touch me! Move aside so I can pass. I’m late for my formal dinner with Lord Salisbury,” she informed them, praying that powerful name would frighten them into obeying her.
The two sailors looked at each other, then howled with laughter. “Come on, me pretty wench, dinna be puttin’ on airs wif us,” one taunted in what she thought was an Irish or Scottish brogue.
“Yeah,” the other one agreed. “We’ll hae us a guid time right ‘ere. Ye been waitin’ long, me bonny lass?”
Leigh sent them a cold and arrogant glare. “Move aside or you’ll be sorry,” she warned, taking two steps backward. “Just like that stupid carriage driver who let me off at the wrong address. I suppose he thought it would be a funny trick on a naive American visitor. Neither I nor the Prime Minister will find this joke amusing.” Her mind searched for a plan. She hadn’t seen anything lying in the alley to use as a weapon—no brick, board, bucket, or such. “If it’s money you’re after, I only have a few pounds and shillings with me. I’ll give it to you after you let me pass. I can go on to Lord Salisbury’s and you can go somewhere to buy another bottle.”
One man pulled a bottle from his pocket and said, “We got us a bottle o’ guid Irish whiskey. Let’s be movin’ down tha alley sae nobody’ll disturb us. Ye ken have tha first sip after a wee kiss.”
“Let ‘er drink tha whole bottle, Jaimie, whilst I work under ‘er skirt,” the other man teased. “We been at sea too long to wait. Ye be ‘ere an’ dressed fur business. We’re as guid as any customer ye’ll find tonight, me bonny lass. What’s yer price? We hae plenty o’ money. I’ll tak’ a tumble wif ye first, right down there.”
“She’s got two ends, Sean. We ken enjoy ‘er at tha same time.”
The men’s vulgarity riled and frightened Leigh. She glared at them and stated, “I’m not a … a prostitute. I was on my way to a party, but the carriage driver left me here by mistake. If you come near me, you’ll pay with your lives.”
“Mistake, ye sae?” one sailor mocked her. He looked behind him, then back at her “Nae matter. We need a woman bad, an’ ye’re ‘ere. If ye be guid an’ nice, we’ll let ye go afterward. If ye dinna do as we sae, ye’ll git hurt. Then-n-n,” he said, drawing out the word to an intimidating length, “we’ll tak’ ye tae our capt’n an’ he’ll sell ye to one o’ them sheiks, after he be done wif ye. Which’ll it be, lass? Us or a bad dream?”
“If you dare harm me, you foul—” She didn’t get to finish her desperate threat before they grabbed for her once more.
Leigh fought like a wildcat, kicking, scratching, pelting her attackers with all her might. She heard her gown rip, and increased her struggles. Her hair came loose and the aigrette was flung to the ground. Her cloak was yanked off and cast aside. She wished she had on her boots, as her slippers did little—if any—damage to their shins. Several nail-tips broke as she clawed at her wicked assailants. They reeked of whiskey, body odor, greasy hair, and horseflesh. They seemed to be all over her and winning the fierce battle.
The man spying on the predatory scene from an ajar window above them knew he had to help the young woman. He had hoped to remain concealed until her departure, but those ruffians were forcing him to expose himself. It was obvious the careless beauty was lost and in trouble. She was a superb fighter, but no match for those two wild animals. He had hesitated too long as it was. And there was something more that alarmed him about this brutal assault. He didn’t believe those men were really sailors. Their uniforms were not genuine navy issue. Someone had gone to considerable trouble to arrange this. Swearing under his breath, he rushed toward the back stairs, knowing if he was captured tonight it would cost him his freedom and probably his life.
~*~
“I’m Lady Leigh Hamilton. Lord Chadwick Hamilton of Webster International is my uncle. I was on my way to meet him for dinner. He’ll kill you if you harm me,” she shrieked breathlessly as she fought with the men, hoping to discourage them with fear of revenge.
The crude beasts continued in their attempt to subdue the thrashing female, laughing and joking as if it was a child’s game. She pleaded with them to stop, but they chuckled and increased their efforts to assault her. She tried to reason with them, and offered them a reward if they let her go. Nothing worked, not threats, not resistance, not a bribe, not pleas, not reasoning, not appealing to their non-existent consciences!
If she had ever doubted their malevolent intention, Leigh no longer did. They were enjoying her struggles, her helplessness, her feeble attempts to thwart them. Their lewd remarks singed her ears. Their cruel hands pawed at her. One sailor trailed slobbery kisses over her shoulder and back while the other one spread them over her face in his attempt to find her mouth. She wanted to retch. She screamed instead, and found hands clamped over her lips. Blind terror ruled her senses.
When the assailant’s hands moved so he could replace them with his mouth, Leigh screamed again and kneed him in the groin. He doubled over with pain and nausea, cursing her through ragged gasps for air. The other man swore at her and yanked her around to face him. He lifted one hand to strike her with brutal and disabling force as he called her names and vowed she would be tortured for her action.
Before the blow landed on her jaw, Leigh ducked her head to deflect it and didn’t see what happened next. The attacker’s wrist was seized and his arm was twisted behind him. Leigh was yanked from his bruising grasp and shoved against the brick wall as she was moved from between her assailant and her rescuer. Dazed and winded, she failed to comprehend the meaning of her sudden freedom and she braced herself for a renewed defense.
A fierce struggle took place between the three men, which she witnessed as her quivering hands shoved her tumbled hair from her line of vision. She noticed that third man was attired as gentleman, and he fought with enormous skill and prowess. Although the odds were two against one, the sailors could not hold their ground against him. He moved with quickness and agility, landing his blows while managing to dodge theirs. Within minutes, her frightened attackers fled.
Leigh’s chest heaved from her exertions and fear. She wished her champion had beaten her attackers senseless so they could be arrested and punished, but she was glad to be rid of them and to be safe. Leigh swayed against the wall and tried to slow her erratic breathing as she accepted the deliverance from peril. She was not a crier, but tears welled in her eyes and her shoulders trembled with relief and exhaustion. It was over, she told herself.
“You all right, miss?” a deep and mellow voice inquired.
Leigh lifted her head and nodded, unable to speak just yet. Her heart was still pounding. She wished she could sit down, as her legs were weak. Her rounded chin quivered, and she clenched her teeth to halt it. She ordered herself not to burst into sobs. She was safe now, thanks to this handsome man. Yes, her mind concurred, very handsome. He was standing in the middle of the alley where an adoring full moon embraced him with her silvery fingers. He was tall, several inches over six feet. His hair was deep brown and his skin was sun-bronzed. She could not make out his eye color from where she stood, limp and tremulous against the wall. She guessed that the stalwart man was over twenty-five. As her wits cleared and she relaxed, she hurriedly scanned him. He wore tapered fawn trousers, a dark-brown—unbuttoned vest, and an ivory—half buttoned—shirt, but no waistcoat or tie or jabot. His shoes appeared dark brown, and freshly shined from the way the moonlight shone on them. It looked as if he had been dressing when he rushed to aid her. Perhaps her screams had summoned him.
He realized she was still shaken, so he kept his tone gentle. “Didn’t anyone tell you it isn’t safe for a beautiful young woman to be out alone at night, especially in this rough area?”
His head never moved and his eyes never left her face, but she felt as if he was taking in every inch of her like a keen-eyed tracker seeking clues to solve a mystery. She straightened and went forward to stand near him, as if she were a child being drawn to the safety of a parent. In the bright moonlight she made out his features; they were chiseled, well defined. His jaw was strong, but not too square. There was a deep cleft in his chin she found very appealing. His hair was mussed, but looked as if it would be straight and thick when brushed neatly. As if taking a clue from her gaze, he ran his fingers through it like a makeshift comb. There were tiny lines near the corners of his incredibly green eyes that told her he was an outdoorsman, as did his tanned complexion. At closer inspection, his nose was a little large and had a small hump, but it only made him look more rugged and virile.
Her gaze helplessly drifted down his throat as it moved with speech when he repeated his earlier question, to which she still did not respond. As he propped his hands on his hips, the movement drew her attention to them and his waist. He had a marvelous physique. Her gaze traveled upward again. His stance caused his unfastened shirt to gape, revealing dark hair on a hard-muscled chest. This stranger had a curious and unexpected effect on her. Never had reality faded or her wits fled in a man’s presence. She felt … mesmerized—yes, that was the correct word—by him, by the shadows playing over his handsome face, giving him an aura of mystery and potent enchantment. Her eyes returned to his and she took a deep breath, wondering how much time had elapsed while she had examined him like a prized stallion. Her voice, hoarsened from her desperate labors, sounded harsh when she replied, “I wasn’t out alone, sir. I became separated from my family and I didn’t know which way to head. I was seeking help. You don’t need to scold me like a child. It was a foolish accident, but those men had no reason or right to attack me. Even if they did mistake me for a … a prostitute, one shouldn’t be abused.”
She realized her words sounded ridiculous and rude. This generous and stalwart man had endangered himself to rescue her from a precarious predicament. She must appear foolish and reckless to him, and her impulsive story didn’t ring true. She knew that from the reproving scowl on his face. She cleared her throat and explained. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so brusque and ungrateful. I haven’t settled down yet. I didn’t get separated from my family. I was to meet them at a restaurant for dinner, but the carriage driver left me here by mistake. He rode away before I realized my error and could halt him. If you hadn’t arrived …”
The man studied her with keen interest. He liked her courage and belated honesty. He had watched her discover her error, try to solve it, then defend herself against the two rough brutes. She hadn’t burst into tears and he was glad, because he wouldn’t know how to deal with an hysterical woman. But he wouldn’t mind if she melted into his arms for comfort and protection. Even if she had been reckless tonight, she possessed endearing strength. She was exquisite, the rarest flower he had ever seen. Her eyes were a rich and deep blue, and they possessed a sparkle that diamonds would envy. Her hair was as golden as the afternoon sun on a dark river, even if it was falling down from its becoming style. He almost commented on its mussed condition but held silent because he liked its exotic and sultry look, like a lion’s tawny mane blowing in the breeze. She was slender, but very shapely, and she fought well when threatened. This was a vital creature who could enflame a man’s blood and loins; that he knew and felt for certain, especially with her gazing into his eyes.
“I see,” he murmured. “Why did he let you off here?” He noticed the aura of wealth and genteel breeding exuding from her, but there was something strange about this incident. He glanced up the alley, praying she wasn’t a ravishing decoy and this wasn’t a clever ruse to lure him out of hiding. Surely no one knew of his presence.
Leigh noticed his wariness as she admitted, “I told him to take me to number six Stams Street. That’s here, of course, so I must have read the address wrong on the invitation. He should have realized I was mistaken and corrected me, at least waited for me to discover my error. But he raced off as if a pack of starving wolves was after him. I looked for someone to help me, but it’s deserted here and I’m unfamiliar with this area. Then, those sailors tried to …” She inhaled and shuddered as the full reality of her near disaster settled in on her.