He stepped back in the room and kicked the door shut. Through clenched teeth, he said, “I would think, Horace, it would be incumbent upon you to treat all the ladies in your employ with respect.”
The strip of white hair across the center of Horace’s head bounced sunbeams in the light. A half-tankard full of rum fortified his mettle. “Juliet’s my property and will do what I bid.”
Juliet.Melodic and lovely.Appropriate.
“Get the girl,” Horace gruffed out. The trader moved his head from side to side anticipating when the girl would launch her missile.
Joshua’s hands fisted. Oh, what he would like to do to…could do…
At the age of seven, Joshua always tagged along with his older brothers, Nicholas and Anthony, who had developed a taste for boxing. Early on, Joshua had acquired the same lust for the sport, sparring with the tenants on his father’s estate, enormous farm boys molded from hard-bitten work, excited to take on the duke’s son with no concern for his station. The fighting was dirty, and he liked it that way.
Horace stooped and pressed his palms against the scalloped carved molding, bordering his desk. “Help me and when I’m done with the girl, you can have her.”
Within seconds, Joshua shot across the room, grabbed Horace up by his frock coat and bent the smaller man over the desk. “You owe Miss Juliet an apology.” A chill hung on the edge of his threat.
“I-I apologize,” Horace choked out, appealing to Juliet who he’d a moment ago attempted to molest, then glanced at the rough frontiersman.
She snatched up her mob cap and tucked her hair beneath. Juliet moved beside Joshua and put her hand on his sleeve. “I can take care of myself.”
Not good enough. Not when he was gone and she couldn’t guard against Horace.
“I could give you the whipping of your life, Horace. As a consequence, I wouldn’t have a trading partner to trade my excellent furs.”
Horace flinched, but with his usual aplomb said, “The furs you carry are superior and of good price?”
Joshua’s message apparently didn’t turn the wheels in Horace’s brain, and it was conceivable he didn’t possess the mechanism. He tightened his grip on the Loyalist’s lapels. “We could encourage Orpha’s attendance on this conversation. I’m sure she’d have an opinion.”
Horace’s eyes widened in horror. Joshua tamped down a grin.
“No, no. It is not necessary to inform my wife of anything. If it makes you feel better, I’ll offer you a bonus for your furs.”
The swine thought to buy him off?
“You look deadly,” hiccupped Horace.
“This is my nice face. You haven’t seen deadly.”
Joshua shoved Horace away in disgust. The man tumbled head over heels, struggled to finally stand, and then hitched up his pants over his hefty girth.
Horace cleared his throat. “At dinner tonight, you won’t mention—”
Blood shot to Joshua’s brain. Men like Horace ranked the lowest part of humanity. “You realize my reputation with the long rifle and my lethal aim. In the future, if I hear of anything happening to the ladies in your household…I promise, I won’t miss.”
Chapter Three
Juliet put the final touches on the place settings for dinner while Mary freshened the guest room for the buckskinned frontiersman. Strangely warm and energized, thoughts of the man ran through Juliet’s mind and her eyes fixed on the tapestry. Oh, how he was like her Achilles. Who was he? Where was he from?
To think he had championed her. Master Hayes was an important man in the Colonies and with all the ferocity of a winter squall, Joshua had dared to quarrel with him and—at risk to his trade.
Juliet laughed. How easily he had tossed Horace over his desk. No need to worry with regard to Horace’s advances in the future. She’d threaten the scoundrel with the frontiersman.
He was so sure of himself, he even charmed Orpha. No one performed that manipulation. And then she remembered the hard flex of muscle beneath the buttery soft hide when she had placed her hand on his arm.
Eldon brushed past her, his arms loaded with firewood for the fireplace. She hauled him back by the collar and kept a watchful eye on anyone who might enter the dining room, stuffing the food she had pilfered into his pocket. He nodded his head in gratitude and hurried on his way.
She dusted the spindles on the chairs to a new sheen and sighed. From beneath her mob cap, she pulled out a lock of hair and examined it. Had he truly called her hair beautiful?
When he’d bandaged her injury, the strength of his hands and the gentleness of his touch had surprised her. A complex man under the rough exterior, a man who had the strength of character to stand up for the lowly household servants.
