Viscount of Vanity, Tammy Andresen [top reads txt] 📗

he moved closer, the door opened and the modiste stepped out, brandishing an umbrella and speaking loudly and emphatically in French.

He hurried over even as a man also stepped out of the shop. He recognized the fellow as one of the men he’d seen before he’d visited the cobbler. His jagged scar flashed in the light.

The man snatched the umbrella from the modiste’s hand and raised it in the air, but Austin didn’t wish to know what the other man planned to do.

With a burst of speed, he closed the gap and raised his fist, sending a punch directly into the man’s nose.

Blood instantly gushed from his nostrils as he stumbled back, yowling and covering his face.

Austin didn’t have a moment to consider as two other men jumped on his back. Years of hard exercise had made him stronger than most and he threw off one of the men as the other wrapped an arm about Austin’s neck.

Another man bellowed even as the bugger on his back tightened his arm, choking off Austin’s air. He hated that feeling more than anything…not being able to breathe haunted his waking hours and his dreams. He jabbed his elbow back, getting the other man in the gut and he loosened his arm again.

A giant fellow charged at Austin and the first trickle of fear slithered down his spine. The other man still clutched at his back, impeding his movements. Austin prepared to duck but the new man hauled the ne’er do well off his back and tossed him to the side. “That’s enough,” the giant bellowed.

Austin was tall, nearly six feet, but this man dwarfed him.

Another one of the attackers charged and his new ally took one swipe with a beefy fist. The other fellow fell back in a dead faint.

“Mr. Sharpe.” Gabriella rushed out of the shop. “Thank you for helping my husband.”

Mr. Sharpe clenched his hand into a fist and that was when Austin noticed the stains of blood on his fingers and nails. The man had to be the butcher. He didn’t answer right away, instead he looked at the villains scattered about the ground. “It’s time all of you left. Go home. There’s nothing here for you, there never was.” Mr. Sharpe watched as the men hauled themselves off the ground.

Austin waited for them to skulk away, all except for the one who was still knocked out on the ground.

Mr. Sharpe, however, had turned back to Gabriella. “I’m glad to see you well.”

She dropped into a curtsy and Austin’s eyes moved from the other man to his wife and then nearly fell out of head. She’d been stunning in the worn dress her father had forced her to wear. But dressed in a fashionable gown of a dusky rose pink, she…she looked like a goddess. He staggered back a half step.

“Monsieur, your jacket,” the modiste said next to him. “It’s ripped. Step inside so that I might fix it for you.” He tore his gaze from Gabriella to find the older woman giving him a knowing smile.

He blinked. Was Gabriella going to stay out here with this behemoth of a man? “Thank you, but my jacket should be fine.”

“Nonsense. Anyone can see you are a man of impeccable grooming. It must be repaired. Besides, your wife must finish collecting all her packages.”

Mr. Sharpe grunted. “I’ll see that those men are cleared out of town.” Then he bowed his head to Gabriella. “It’s nice to see you looking well, Mrs…”

“Melrose,” she answered softly. “And thank you for your kind words. I noticed you at the auction yesterday. Your support is always appreciated.”

Mr. Sharpe gave Austin a sidelong glance that resembled a glare and then picked up the man who still lay on the ground by the back of his jacket, holding him like a side of beef in his large hand.

Austin frowned. He’d been under the impression he’d been saving Gabriella. But perhaps he wasn’t the only man who wished to be her hero.

Jealousy ripped through him, an emotion he hadn’t counted on.

Chapter Seven

Gabriella watched her husband through the window. He’d been chopping wood for two straight hours. Before that, he’d exercised in the yard. No wonder he was so muscular.

She nibbled on her lip, then clutched the curtain.

The memory of those muscles enveloping her when she’d fainted made her ache. He’d felt divine.

As she’d been leaving the shop, Madame Fleur had held her back with a single touch of her hand to Gabriella’s arm. “From the look in your husband’s eyes when he first saw you in this dress, I think I was wrong about his preferences. Find out what holds him back from you.”

Gabriella gave herself a shake. How was she going to do that?

Normally, she’d keep herself busy in the kitchen, her thoughts working themselves free as her hands moved. But the Baron of Blackwater had sent a servant to attend the couple in the cottage along with an invitation for dinner at his home the following evening.

So now she had nothing to do but sit. Which might be driving her mad.

Madam Fleur had lent Gabriella a pelisse while making one for her and she donned the borrowed garment now. What she needed was a walk. If she couldn’t cook, she could at least move, and fresh air might clear her thoughts.

Stepping out the front door, the swinging of the ax paused. “Gabriella? Where are you off to?”

She stopped and turned to her husband. “I’m afraid I don’t sit idly very well. I thought to take a stroll down the lane.”

He swung the ax so that it stuck into an upright log. “I’ll escort you.”

“No.” She held up her hands. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your work. I’ll be fine on my own.”

He scowled. “After what happened this morning, I don’t think it wise for you to go alone.”

“Oh,” she paused. “I didn’t even think of that.” She tapped her boot on the wooden platform in front of the door. “Would it be better if we