“Mr. St. Clare, good evening,” she answered with stilted politeness.
The man’s grin only widened.
“You don’t like me very much, hmm?” he asked.
“No,” she answered pointedly. After all, she’d always prided herself on her honesty. “I don’t.”
“I know you’d be a tough nut to crack. That’s why I reckoned I’d a better chance with your sister. Of course, she turned out to be a bit of a disappointment. But it seems as though you’ve more fire in you than she does. Perhaps we might get along, after all.”
Olivia shuddered at the blatant lasciviousness in the man’s gaze.
This was why she’d wanted Jane away from the cad. This was why she felt safe with Alexander and never would with one such as Elliot St. Clare.
“I have no interest in getting along with you, Mr. St. Clare.”
“So, you’re here to meet someone else, is that it? I didn’t know you had it in you, my dear. It’s not Fincham, is it? He always was a lucky bastard. Everything handed to him on a platter just because he’s a firstborn. Bagged himself the right sister while I got stuck with the prude.”
“Come on, let’s have a drink.”
He reached out and clasped the material of Olivia’s cloak causing her to stumble towards him.
“Let go of me, I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Not good enough for you, hmm? Because I don’t have a title? Come now, Miss Darington. We all know your father is ruined. Soon enough, you’ll be begging men like me to take an interest in you.”
Olivia knew she should be scared. But she was merely furious. Furious that he would say such things to her, furious that he would treat poor Jane so abominably. And furious that he would besmirch Alexander in such a fashion. Alex was nothing like this wastrel.
“If you don’t let go of me this instance, I shall – I shall –“
“What?” he snorted derisively. “What shall you do?”
“Probably something like this.”
Olivia caught a brief glimpse of Alex’s murderous expression before his fist darted out and connected with St. Clare’s face. She didn’t see where he’d hit, but she heard the sickening sound of bone crunching seconds before St. Clare’s hold on her loosened and he dropped to the ground, blood spurting from his nose.
She watched slack-jawed as Alex bent down and pulled his friend into a sitting position by the lapel of his coat.
“Your things will be removed from my home this evening. You are never to darken my doorstep again. And if you go anywhere near Olivia or her family again, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
When he was done speaking, he dropped the other man like a sack of potatoes and only then turned to face her.
“Did he hurt you?” he growled, and Olivia felt a shiver snake down her spine at the fierce look in his eyes. He would never hurt her, of course. But he looked rather intimidating all the same.
“N-no,” she stammered.
She watched the intense relief flash across his face before he reached out a hand and wordlessly pulled her from where St. Clare lay groaning and bleeding at her feet.
“Why didyou want to meet me?” she asked quietly as they walked.
This was the hard part, Alex knew, and he struggled to get his temper under control. Every time he pictured Elliot’s hands anywhere near her, he wanted to go back and wring the bastard’s neck.
But Elliot wasn’t important right now. Nothing was except her.
Alexander had spent all deliberating over what he should say. Did he try to apologise again for what a fool he’d been that day three years ago? Or did he just admit that he was desperately in love with her, that he wanted more than anything to make her his wife?
And suddenly, the words wouldn’t come.
He was as skittish as an unbroken horse.
