Page 3 of A Duke's Keeper
Pride got the better of her. “I don’t need your help.”
The man’s eyes widened. His gaze bounced from man to man to man and back to her, his brow arched sardonically. “Yes, I see now. You have them exactly where you wanted them.”
She ignored his mockery, and the fluttering of her stomach at his piercing gaze. Hawkins and the others had halved the distance, so close now, she felt their wretched gazes clawing at her skirts.
“Stay out of this,” she said, though she directed her words towards the fourth man.
A flash of unknown emotion crossed his face before his mouth settled into a smirk. He leaned against the lamppost and crossed his arms.
He was honestly going to stand and watch? She tracked his movements with narrowed eyes. “You won’t step in?”
He raised his hands. “I won’t lift a finger.”
She didn’t trust him for an instant, but she had other problems, literally, at her back.
Heatedly aware of those desert eyes on her, Camille didn’t hesitate. Rock secure, she swung with a right hook, catching Hawkins in the cheek and sending him careening into Grey.
They fell in a heap, leaving Flank inside her guard on her bad side.
His punch flew wide.
Her mind drew up the proper counter, but as she skirted back, her shoulder gave a bark of pain. The stalling had cost her.
His next swing clipped her in the temple.
She caught the cobblestones on her hand. Something cracked. Grimacing, she pushed up on her good arm and fell when her wrist wouldn’t hold her weight. Flank was there, towering over her, his grin wide and revealing rotted, gapped teeth. “Not so smart now, bitch.” He reeled back.
Camille braced for a boot to the gut.
There was a sharp crack, and Flank fell forward.
Camille rolled and gasped at the pain.
Flank landed, face first, on the ground beside her with Desert Eyes digging his knee into Flank’s back, his expression severe.
Flank flailed.
Desert Eyes chopped Flank in the back of the neck, and the latter’s struggles subsided in unconsciousness.
The stranger gave Camille a small smile. “Well, that wasn’t nearly as fun as promised.”
She first eyed him and then the still bodies of Hawkins and Grey where they lay off to the side. Knowing one hit wouldn’t have been enough to take the vazey ratbags down, she scowled. “You helped.”
“I did.” He stooped and clenched something in his hand.
“You said you wouldn’t lift a finger.”
He shrugged. “I couldn’t resist.”
“You lied!”
“This is a point of contention for you, I take it?” He raised his hand to his chest. “My deepest apologies, miss. I am, normally, a man of my word to a degree of disregard for self-preservation.” His gaze flicked to Flank, still under-knee, and his smiling eyes went hard. “But even my word of honor breaks when a man raises a hand to a woman. Please.” He offered his hand. “Let me make it up to you by getting medical attention for that arm.”
His words were too pretty.
Close up, Camille saw the man’s suit was of fine wool and expertly tailored. The smell of expensive Ballantine hung on his breath.
She ignored his hand and sneered. “You’re a gentleman.”
