Susan Johnson - Sexy As Hell

“Then I’ll shoot Compton first,” Oz said in a level voice. “Once he’s dead, paid hooligans won’t stand their ground.”

“Dead? Good God, Lennox, don’t say such things!” Isolde exclaimed.

“Darling, he’s trying to take everything you have. He doesn’t deserve a great deal of charity.”

“Still… dead?” Her eyes were huge. “I find the prospect too awful to even contemplate!”

But a moment later, any further argument became moot as the heavy tramp of feet echoed up the stairs and a confrontation became inevitable.

“In or out, Malmsey?” Oz crisply queried. “I’m shutting this door.”

“Really, Robert, you needn’t become involved,” Isolde declared.

“No, miss, I couldn’t leave you unprotected.” The rotund little barrister pulled himself up to his middling height and tried to look fierce.

“Excellent,” Oz politely remarked, waving the little man into the bedroom, hoping he wouldn’t faint and cause a distraction. Quickly shutting the door behind him and locking it, he turned to his companions. “I want you both to stay out of sight. I’ve dealt with men like Compton before. Don’t argue, darling,” he firmly added, holding Isolde’s gaze. “You’ll only get in the way.”

“My dear Lennox,” Isolde said as firmly, “this confrontation is exactly what I need to confirm the story in the papers. I think he should see me. You stay out of sight, although it would be useful if some of your clothing was visible.”

Oz smiled. “You can’t be serious. Do you actually think I’d remain out of sight while he threatens you?”

“I’ll simply inform him that the gossip reports are true and he can go on his way.”

“Suit yourself.” He chose not to uselessly argue. The heavy tread of footsteps was almost upon them.

The knock on the hallway door a moment later was a rough tattoo, followed by Frederick’s petulant cry. “Open the door, Isolde! I know you’re in there!”

Isolde shivered, the thought of facing Frederick suddenly less auspicious. “What if I don’t?” She studied the oak-paneled door. “Do you think it will hold?”

“Of course it’ll hold. But then you’ll be prisoner in here until-” Oz blew out a breath. “Darling, he’s not going away.”

“I agree, my lady,” Malmsey murmured. “Lord Compton was in high dudgeon when I caught a glimpse of him downstairs.”

“I’m going to send him on his way,” Oz calmly said, moving toward the door. Or shoot him where he stands. “I’d like you both to stay back, but suit yourself.”

Turning the latch a moment later, holding his pistol in a deceptively slack hold, he opened the door. “What can I do for you, Compton?” he lazily drawled, his pistol barrel aimed at Frederick’s paunch, his gaze swiftly surveying Frederick’s burly entourage. “Make your comments brief because my pistol has a hair trigger and I’m testy after being wakened from a dead sleep.”

Frederick seemed to shrink into his skin at the sight of Lennox, his rage at Isolde’s public scandal subsumed by terror. The feeling increased along with his pallor as his gaze flicked to the pistol Oz held aimed at his stomach.

“You’d best be on your way, Compton,” Oz gently said.

But the prospect of Isolde’s vast fortune firmed Frederick’s spine, as did recall of his hired thugs backing him up. One man against six; the odds were in his favor. “I’m not here to see you,” he said with a hint of his normal haughtiness. “I came to speak to the Countess of Wraxell.”

“The lady’s indisposed at the moment, Compton. She’s rare tired after last night,” he added with an insolent smile.

Flushing red with anger, Frederick glanced over his shoulder to assure himself his hired roughs were in place. “Nevertheless, I must insist on speaking with her,” he said, the extent of his gambling debts prompting him to stand his ground. “This is a civilized country, Lennox,” he added, the obvious slur referring to Oz’s Indian background. “I have simply come to call on the lady.”

“With bully boys at your back.” Oz nodded at the menacing crowd. “If you recall, Compton, I shot Buckley last month for irritating me. So don’t fucking irritate me or I’ll shoot you where you stand.” What the hell is he doing with a frock-coated minister? The man suddenly hove into view behind a brawny ruffian.

“I have armed men to protect me,” Frederick blustered. As if mention of his bodyguard gave him fresh courage, Frederick foolishly added, “Step aside, Lennox. I have business with Lady Wraxell.”

“If you wish to see her, you’ll have to go through me,” Oz silkily said. “I have six shots. One for you and the rest for your thugs if they choose to die today.”

The men hired by Frederick lived in a hazardous, dog-eat-dog world; they were survivors or they’d never have lived to adulthood. None of them questioned the cold-blooded malevolence in Oz’s eyes or the steadiness of his pistol hand.

“There now, that’s a sensible lot,” Oz said. Not one man so much as shifted his stance. “I have some money in my coat pocket, Malmsey. Give it to these gentlemen so they might have a pint or two on me.” He calmly waited, his finger on the trigger, while the barrister found the coat and the money and hurried over to the door.

“All of it, sir?” the barrister quavered, holding up a thick bundle of large notes.

“Yes, I’m in a charitable mood.” He was patently undisturbed, his voice unemotional. “Buy the wife and kiddies a present from me, too, gentlemen.” Taking the bills from Malmsey’s outstretched hand, he tossed them well down the passageway.

As Frederick’s guard melted away in raucous pursuit of the windfall, Oz nodded at the minister who’d not been touched by the greed of lesser men. “Come in, sir. I have need of you. It’s not a request,” he gruffly added as the man hesitated. “Although, if you do your duty by me,” Oz said with a pleasant smile, “your parish will be richer for it.”

Ah, there are calibrations of acceptable greed , he thought as the minister walked toward him. “Good day, Compton.” He waved him away with his pistol. “Although, I’m more than willing to put a bullet in you if you want to argue the point.”

Left to face the formidable Lennox alone, Frederick could do little but glower. “You won’t get away with this disgraceful behavior, Lennox! I shall have my revenge on you and my cousin!”

The man must be obsessed by the prospect of Isolde’s fortune that he dared threaten him. Most men would have been more prudent. “Not, I think, before I have mine, Compton,” Oz returned, a plan having leaped full-blown into his mind at the sight of the minister. And so saying, he shut the door in Compton’s fat face and locked it securely.

Turning, he set his pistol on a small table and offered Isolde a graceful bow. “Fear and money, darling-an incomparable combination.”

“Very effective. My compliments and thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but you heard him. He’s not about to give up without a fight.”

She shrugged. “I’ve dealt with Frederick for years. I’ll manage his next threat when it comes.”

“He owes money everywhere. I’m not sure he’s going to be manageable this time. I have a proposal. A business arrangement as it were-temporary and capable of permanently discouraging your contemptible cousin.”

Isolde’s gaze flicked to the minister, then back to Oz in warning.

“Malmsey, would you be so kind and take the minister-” He stopped and nodded toward the frock-coated man. “Lennox, sir.”

“Pelham, sir.”

“You have a marriage license, I presume.”

The man flushed. “I was told the marriage was by mutual consent, Mr. Lennox.”