Blayne grimaced. By God, he wanted to knock the young pup’s block off for being so overly familiar with Miss Russell. Blayne didn’t care how long he might have known her, but it was clear he was trying to stake a claim by engaging in some sort of ridiculous pissing contest.
Unwilling to participate, Blayne allowed the clerk to escort Miss Russell while he took up the rear. Until she suddenly turned back to face him. “I’d like for you to stay here.”
“Are ye sure that’s wise?” Blayne didn’t like the idea of her disappearing into another part of the building with this fellow. He was too bloody young and eager to make a conquest for Blayne’s comfort.
“Quite,” Miss Russell informed him. “I need to speak with Avery alone.”
In other words, she wanted him to bugger off. Right. Message received.
“Fine.” He shouldn’t give a toss since he was nothing to her but an overpaid servant and she no more to him than a means to an end, but the dismissal still rankled. Determined to put that aside so he could focus on his job, he lowered his voice and quietly asked, “Do ye have yer pistol?”
Her eyes widened. “Of course. But I shan’t need it here.”
“Perhaps not,” he agreed, “but I’m more comfortable knowing ye’re not unarmed. Just in case.”
She gave him a perplexed look, shook her head, and turned away. Mr. Carlisle sent Blayne a smirk over her shoulder while ushering her through a door. They disappeared into a hallway while Blayne wished the little weasel would be his next opponent at one of The Black Swan boxing matches. Unfortunately, such an outcome was unlikely. And since Mr. Carlisle hadn’t really done anything wrong, he probably didn’t deserve ending up in the hospital just because Blayne didn’t like him panting after Miss Russell.
And why the hell should he care anyway? Miss Russell had been all smiles when she’d greeted Mr. Carlisle. Perhaps she fancied him a bit. He’d made her blush for heaven’s sake.
So did I.
The amount of pleasure he found in the memory was cause for serious concern. She shouldn’t matter to him. Not in a possessive way at least. And she didn’t. It was ludicrous to think she might after such a brief acquaintance. But since he liked her and she was paying him to keep her safe, it was only natural that he should consider all manner of danger – even that which included a potentially unwelcome suitor.
Satisfied with his reasoning and the fact that Miss Russell was most likely right about being safe inside this building, he allowed himself to relax in a chair until she returned.
She did so half an hour later. To Blayne’s annoyance, Mr. Carlisle, who’d returned to his front desk duties in the meantime, leapt to his feet and rushed to offer her his arm. “Allow me to escort you back to your carriage, Charlotte.”
Blayne bristled. This really was too much.
“Thank you, Mr. Carlisle,” Miss Russell said, “but I’m sure Mr. Wright can manage.”
“I’m sure he can, but it would give me tremendous pleasure if you would allow me,” Mr. Carlisle said while beaming at Miss Russell like a dog chasing a treat.
When he made to take her by the arm, she swiftly moved from within his reach. An awkward pause followed before she managed to force a smile and say, “I fear I may have neglected to introduce you and Mr. Wright properly. He is my fiancé, Mr. Carlisle, and as such, I would like for him to escort me.”
“Indeed,” Blayne murmured. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to preen like an arrogant bastard or to give Mr. Carlisle the same sort of smirk he’d received from him earlier. Instead, he did his best to behave with civility and even managed to bid the young and now disgruntled man farewell with decorum.
“He’s overly eager,” Blayne told Miss Russell while escorting her back to the front of the building.
“Yes.”
When she said nothing more, he asked, “Were ye able to conclude yer business to yer satisfaction?”
“Yes.”
“So yer editor liked what ye’ve written?”
“She did.”
“Wonderful.” Blayne stepped out into the street and opened the umbrella for her. The carriage wasn’t far – just a pavement width away – but it was still pouring, and while Miss Russell had gotten significantly damp earlier on her way inside, there was no sense in getting more soaked or risking a bout of influenza. Clutching her folio, she stared at him with surprising wariness before stepping forward.
Instinctively, Blayne wrapped one arm around her and pulled her close to his side so she would be better covered. She made a squeaky sound which he ignored, and then he hurried her toward their conveyance. It took but a couple of seconds, but they were long enough for him to consider how good she felt tucked against him. She was petite without being scrawny, and his hand was able to make out the gentle flare of her hip.
His imagination stirred, bringing to life a curvaceous figure clad in nothing at all.
Enough of that, you cad.
He flung the carriage door open and offered his arm for support. She accepted his assistance and allowed him to help her up, after which he climbed in behind her.
“I’ll let you know when I need your help next,” she said when they stopped a while later to drop him off.
Blayne considered her inscrutable expression. While she’d chatted softly with Daisy during the return ride, she hadn’t spared him one glance until now. It was clear she’d not yet forgiven him for the comment he’d made earlier, and while he supposed it had been a bit harsh, he wasn’t going to apologize any more than he already had when his point had been valid.
“Ye can send me a note.”
Jaw clenched, she gave a tight nod.
Blayne fought the chuckle that threatened to rise up his throat. He dipped his head to hide his smile and leapt out into the rain. Pausing there on the street corner for a moment, he watched the carriage drive off. Miss Russell had a delightful temper, and while he knew he probably ought to feel some remorse over riling her, he couldn’t muster the effort.
Turning down Bambridge Street, he made his way back to The Black Swan. She was the most compelling woman he’d ever met – prim and proper on the outside, with passion brimming beneath the surface. It was enough to stir a man’s fantasies in the most wicked way imaginable.
5
Charlotte’s initial plan had been to ask for Mr. MacNeil’s escort the following day when she went to buy ribbons. Not because she feared for her safety on Bond Street, but rather because it made sense to enlist his help as often as possible while he was in her employ.
Except then he’d gone and put his arm around her while holding the umbrella.
She’d been shocked by the forwardness even though there had been a practical reason for it. He’d only meant to shelter her from the rain. Only she could still feel the press of his hand against the side of her waist four days later. With a firm grip, he’d held her so tightly she’d become overwhelmed by the physical strength he’d exuded, his powerful body a solid wall of pure muscle next to her smaller frame. It was the closest she’d been to him yet – closer than on the sofa in her parents’ parlor or on the bench in the garden – and the scandalous proximity had made her incredibly aware of him as a man.