“Is that your question?”
“Of course not, but while I can do most things on my own, I understand pure physical strength is one thing I simply do not possess. Though, neither does a child and…and look at Mr. Thomas Sinclair, for that matter. No one thinks less of him for his hired guards, do they?”
“Is that what you’re looking for? A thug?” he asked. “You can hire one of those on the streets.”
“No, that’s not it at all.” She gnawed her lip again. From the corner of her eye, she saw Declan and Leachman rise. Time was running out. “Mr. MacKintosh…”
His gaze followed hers and he noted the men coming toward them. “Shall we walk?”
Smoothly, he helped her up and turned her toward the rear of the mansion, past the grand staircase into the picture gallery that also served as a ballroom for Mrs. Astor’s famous parties.
Their footsteps echoed through the massive room, but MacKintosh kept his voice low.
“Do you fear for your safety, Mrs. Eames?”
Gallant, too.
Prim met his eyes, even more confident in her hasty plan. “Not for my safety but for my freedom, yes. What I’m looking for is a reasonable impediment to stifle Mr. Leachman’s persistent courting. He is a large man, as you can see.”
“Has he threatened you? Hurt you?”
It was kind of him to display such chivalry, but he wasn’t understanding the point she was trying to make. Not that she was making it well.
“I’m muddling this up. As I said, I’m in no danger, but Mr. Leachman tends to use his size to intimidate other men away, leaving me vulnerable to his presence and unfortunate company. But you’re larger than he is, Mr. MacKintosh.”
“You want me to…what? Beat him until he leaves you alone? So youdowant a thug.”
“Mr. MacKintosh.” She sighed in exasperation. “Please do not put words in my mouth…” His lips quirked the tiniest bit. “Oh, you’re joking, aren’t you? I must say, that’s not at all humorous.”
Surely a man like this never took anything too seriously. Could she trust him? For all his arrogance and brawn, he really did have a hint of gallantry, didn’t he?
Gathering her nerve, Prim stared blankly at the walls covered in large framed artworks, the curved friezes above them, and the glass ceiling overhead. Anything, rather than look at him.
“I’d like for you to court me, Mr. MacKintosh.”
* * *
“Beg pardon?” James asked, certain he hadn’t heard her correctly. He’d assumed she was actually trying to get up the nerve to ask him to politely dissuade Leachman from his suit.
Asking for him to court her…
Like any prey being stalked, a rush of panic washed over James. The urge to take flight or fight. As a younger man, it had come upon him many a time when cornered by a marriage-minded female. Usually, the former proved the easiest. A neat escape via the nearest exit. In recent years, he’d tended more toward the latter by bluntly expressing his disinclination to accommodate them.
While he had no irrepressible urge to flee Prim’s presence, neither did he have any desire to be so cruel to her. Bloody hell, helikedthe woman. He’d happily pledge his fists and brawn to her, but his freedom…?
“I’ll admit you are a fine woman, Mrs. Eames—”
“Oh, no!”
Her hands flew to her flaming cheeks, but James couldn’t let her embarrassment halt him from dashing her connubial aspirations.
“My apologies for giving the impression otherwise, Mrs. Eames.” He kept his voice somber and grave. “I have no interest in marrying at this time.”
“Nor do I, Mr. MacKintosh.” Both her flabbergasted tone and rounded eyes assured him that she meant it. “I do not want or need another man in my life. I’ve been dominated by them until my very thoughts are hardly my own any longer, my life, not at all what I want. I assure you, I do not want a husband.”
Her red cheeks mottled with mortification at the boldness of her confession. He thought she might flee from him then, but she stood her ground and continued.
“More so, I won’t be pressured into making a hasty decision to please someone else. That’s how I ended up with my first husband. I don’t intend to let it happen again.”
