Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(76)

“Quiet, quiet,” he grunted, eagerly raking up her gown. “Lovely creature. I watched you tonight…those magnificent br**sts swelling out of your gown. Don’t struggle. I’m the best cocksman in London. Relax, you’ll enjoy it. You’ll see.”

Frantically she tried to bite and claw him, but nothing could stop his heavy thighs pushing between hers. The pungent sweat-and-perfume odor of his skin filled her nostrils, while groping hands searched over her half-clad body. Choking on her own smothered cries, Sara felt herself sinking in a dark, airless void.

Suddenly the punishing hand left her mouth, and the massive weight was lifted from her. She was finally able to scream with bloodcurdling force. Scrambling off the bed, she ran without direction until she found herself cowering in a corner. There was a terrifying snarling noise in the room, as if a wild beast had been let loose. Blinking rapidly, she tried to understand what was happening. Her hand flew to her mouth, holding in another scream.

Two men rolled over and over across the floor, crashing into the washstand. The porcelain pitcher and basin fell and shattered. Growling murderously, Derek drove his fists into Granville’s face. With a howl of pain, Granville managed to throw him off. Derek rolled easily and came to his feet.

Granville struggled up and stared at him in horror. “Good God, man, let’s discuss this like civilized beings!”

Derek’s teeth gleamed in the dim room, his lips twisting in a demonic sneer. “After I take your head off and pull your guts out through your neck.”

Granville whimpered in fear as Derek came after him again, slamming him to the floor. Brutal fists descended on him relentlessly, until Granville got in a blow of his own and gained another second’s respite. He raised a hand to his own face, discovering it was streaming with blood. “My nose is broken!” he cried in panic, crawling backward to the door as Derek stalked him mercilessly.

To Granville’s relief, a house steward appeared, staring into the room with alarm and bewilderment. “Please,” Granville sobbed, clutching at the servant’s ankle, “keep him away from me! He’s trying to kill me—”

“You won’t be that lucky,” Derek interrupted, snatching up a shard of broken pottery and advancing on him.

Bravely the house steward placed himself between Derek and his intended victim. “Mr. Craven,” the servant quavered, staring at the enraged giant before him, “you must wait until—”

“Get out of my way.”

Conscious of the blubbering aristocrat seeking his protection, the servant didn’t move. “No, sir,” he said unsteadily.

More servants and several guests began to appear, all crowding to see what the commotion was about. Derek pinned Granville with a bloodthirsty stare. “The next time I see you—and the coldhearted bitch who sent you—I’ll kill you both. Tell her that.”

Granville shrank back in fear. “There are witnesses who will testify as to your threats—”

Derek slammed the door, closeting himself alone in the room with Sara. He dropped the piece of broken pottery and turned to her, swiping his heavy black hair out of his eyes. She clutched the thin gown around herself as if it would protect her. Her face was blank, as if she didn’t recognize him. When he saw that her entire body was trembling, he went to her and scooped her up in his arms.

Silently he carried her to the bed and sat down with her in his lap. She was still against his broad chest, her arms gripped around his neck, her head wedged against his shoulder. They both breathed in hard spurts, one from fear, one from rage. As his anger diminished, Derek became aware of the multitude of voices gathering outside the door. No one dared come in. God only knew what they thought was going on in there. It would be better if he relinquished Sara to someone else’s care.

He didn’t realize she was crying until her wet cheek brushed his neck. No sobs, just quiet tears that slipped down her face and broke his heart. Slowly he un-clenched his hands and caressed her loose hair and her back. “Did he hurt you?” he finally brought himself to ask.

She knew what he meant. “No,” she said in a watery voice. “You arrived in time. How did you know? How—”

“Later.” At the moment he couldn’t bring himself to explain that she had been assaulted because of him.

Sara relaxed against him with a ragged sigh, her tears drying. It was impossible to believe that the same man who had attacked Lord Granville so brutally could hold her with such tenderness. She had never felt so safe, cradled against his broad chest, feeling his breath filter through her hair. One of his hands was splayed over her side, his thumb resting against the curve of her breast. It was wrong for him to hold her so intimately, for her to allow it, but she couldn’t bring herself to deny him. His head moved, and his mouth brushed hers in a gentle kiss. Closing her eyes, Sara felt his lips touch her delicate eyelids, her wet lashes.

A decisive rap on the door heralded Lady Raiford’s entrance. She slipped inside and turned to admonish the cluster of people around the portal. “Go on, all of you,” she said pertly. “Everything’s all right now. I wish everyone would go downstairs and try to refrain from gossiping about things that are not their concern.” Firmly she closed the door and stared at the pair on the bed. “Damnation,” she muttered, coming over to light the bedside lamp.

Aware of the scandalous appearance of the situation, Sara tried to crawl from Derek’s lap. He deposited her beneath the covers, tucked her in carefully, and sat on the bed beside her.