Too late, Anthony saw his mistake. The narrowed eyes now blazing at him were light gray, not blue. But at the same moment Anthony realized it, the little man next to them slipped a knife out of his sleeve.
James intervened at this point, since Anthony was too involved with the redhead to take notice of his companion. He neatly knocked the knife aside, only to be attacked for his trouble, fists and feet both flying his way. Hardly any damage ensued. The little bugger had no more strength than a child. But James was not about to just stand there and take this barrage. With no effort at all, he flipped his opponent about and hefted him off his feet. Somehow he wasn’t surprised to find a full, soft breast cupped in his hand.
Anthony had glanced their way at the start of thecommotion, but now his eyes widened as he took in the delicate chin, smooth lips, and pert little nose. The cap had come down further to completely cover the eyes, but the perfectly molded cheekbones were unmistakably feminine too.
His voice was a trifle loud in his surprise. “Good God,he’sa woman!”
James grinned. “I know.”
“Now you’ve done it, you miserable curs!” the girl snarled at them both as several men within hearing glanced their way. “Mac, do something!”
MacDonell did. He pulled back his arm and swung at Anthony. The decision was made quickly not to fight, much as Anthony needed that outlet to let off some of his frustration. He caught the fist and slammed it down on the bar.
“There’s no need for that, MacDonell,” Anthony said. “I made a mistake. I apologize.”
MacDonell was disconcerted at how easily he had been outmaneuvered. He wasn’t that much smaller than the Englishman, yet he couldn’t raise his fist off the bar to save his soul. And he had the feeling that even if he could, it wouldn’t do him much good.
Prudently, the Scotsman nodded his acceptance and got his release by doing so. But his companion was still held tight, and it was to James his aggression turned now.
“Ye’ll be letting go, mon, if ye ken what’s good fer ye. I canna let ye monhandle—”
“Be easy, MacDonell,” Anthony interjected in a hushed tone. “He means the lass no harm. Perhaps you’ll let us accompany you outside?”
“There’s nae need—”
“Look around you, dear fellow,” James interrupted the Scot. “There appears to be every need, thanks to my brother’s loud blunder.”
So saying, he hefted the wench under his arm and started for the door. Her protest died with a tight squeeze about the ribs, and since MacDonell heard no complaint from her, he followed behind. Anthony did as well, after tossing a few coins on the table for the ales that had never arrived. He spared a glance for the room to see that most eyes were still on James and the girl, or rather, just on the girl. He wondered how long she had been in the tavern before her disguise was uncovered. It didn’t matter. Dressed as she was in skin-tight breeches, even if her sweater was baggy in the extreme, there probably wasn’t a man there who wouldn’t have made a try for her if James didn’t have her firmly in hand.
Anthony supposed it was too much to hope that they could exit the place without some further incident occurring. He caught up with the others only because the barmaid had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, and latched possessively onto James’ arm, stopping him.
Anthony arrived to hear her demand, “’Ere now, ye’re not leavin’, are ye?”
James, instead of brushing her off, gave her a smile to quite dazzle her. “I’ll be back later, my dear.”
She brightened, not even bothering to glance at the bundle under his arm. “I finish work at two.”
“Then two it is.”
“Two’s one too many, I’m thinking.” This from a brawny sailor who had stood up and was now blocking James’ path to the door.
Anthony sighed, coming up to stand next to his brother. “I don’t suppose you’d care to put her down and take care of this, James.”
“Not particularly.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Stay out of this, mate,” the sailor warned Anthony. “He’s got no right coming in here and stealing not one but two of our women.”
“Two? Is this little ragamuffin yours?” Anthony glanced at the bundle in dispute, who had pulled her wool cap up enough to see by and was peering at them with murder in her eyes. He was almost hesitant to put it to the test. “Are you his, sweetheart?”
She was wise enough to give a negative shake of her head. Fortunately, the sailor was an ugly-looking brute, or she might have given a different answer, she was so angry at the way she was being manhandled. Anthony couldn’t blame her. James was holding on a bit tighter than necessary, and the position he had her in was far from dignified.
“I believe that settles it, doesn’t it.” It was not a question by any means. Anthony was tired of the whole affair, especially when he had no one to blame but himself for being there in the first place. “Now be a good chap and move out of the way.”
Surprisingly, the sailor stood firm. “He’s not taking her out of here.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Anthony said wearily just before flattening his fist on the fellow’s jaw.
