The artist leaned close, and Alec held back a roar of fury at the nearness, until the pompous prick whispered, “Still. Now.” There was no mistaking the sexual promise in the words. “You would like that, would you not?”
That was it. Alec went for him.
Except Lily got there first.
It felt exceedingly good to punch a man in the nose.
She knew she shouldn’t do it. She knew it wouldn’t solve her problem. Knew, too, that it would do nothing but anger Derek and likely make him more committed to her ruination.
It would only increase her shame—her shame for her feelings, for her behavior, for the consequences of it.
But there was only so much a woman could be expected to take. And once he’d resurrected the shame—along with all the pain and sadness and doubt that he’d settled upon her—she hadn’t been able to help herself.
“Ow!” Derek’s reached up to check the state of his handsome, exceedingly straight nose. “You hit me!”
“You deserved it,” she said, shaking out her hand, doing her best to ignore the sting of it. It was the first time she’d ever punched a thing, and it hurt, frankly. More than she would have imagined.
“You little bitch! You will regret that!”
“Not as much as you will regret using such language with her,” came a low Scottish burr from the darkness.
Lily let out a surprised squeak as she spun to find Alec crossing the room, six and a half feet of massive, muscular fury with a single goal—to finish the job that Lily had started.
His fist was significantly larger than hers, and packed an impressive wallop. She should not have enjoyed the sound of bone meeting flesh but, she confessed, it was rather thrilling.
As was the way Hawkins dropped to the floor like a sack of grain.
And the way Alec followed him down to lift him up with the strength of one massive arm and hit him a second time. And a third.
It was when he pulled back for the fourth blow that his coat split in two, right down the back seam. In the sound of the rending, Lily found her voice. “Stop!”
Alec froze, as though she held him on a string. He looked back over his shoulder. “Do ye want him?”
She shook her head, confused by both the question and his brogue, thickened with fury. “What?”
“Do ye. Want him,” he repeated. “To husband.”
“What?” This time it was Derek who sputtered the reply.
Alec returned his attention to his victim. “I did not give you permission to speak.” He looked back to Lily. “If you want him, he is yours.”
She believed him. There was no question in her mind that if she announced that she wanted to be Mrs. Derek Hawkins, Alec would make it so. They would be married before sunup. She’d get the man she’d mooned over for months. The one she’d cried herself to sleep for more times than she could count.
Alec would give him to her.
A week ago, perhaps she’d have wanted it.
But now . . .
“No,” she whispered.
“With conviction, lass.”
“No,” she said, more firmly. “You are terribly committed to getting me married, Your Grace, if you think to marry me to him.”
“I won’t marry her!” Derek declared. “You cannot make me!”
Alec glared at him. “Once again, I am nae interested in hearing you speak.”
Lily met Derek’s gaze. “For the record, as he is the Duke of Warnick, I think he absolutely could make you marry me, Mr. Hawkins,” she enunciated his lack of title, knowing it made him mad with jealousy, before returning her attention to Alec. “But what His Grace cannot do is make me marry you. Or anyone, for that matter.”
She thought for a moment that she saw his lips twitch at the words. At the way she stood up for herself. She wondered if he was slightly proud of her.
She was rather proud of herself, honestly.
“I would nae dream of forcing you into marriage, Miss Hargrove,” he replied.
“We both know that’s not true,” she retorted. “But I’m not interested in the current option.”
“And thank God for that,” Alec retorted.
“You’d be lucky to have me,” Derek spat.
Alec immediately looked back at him. “It speaks again.” He raised his fist and struck Derek once more. “Next time, I’ll take out teeth.”
A thrill went through her at his unhesitating response. At the way he instantly protected her. She liked it far too much.
If she wasn’t careful, Alec would be as dangerous as Derek had been.
More so.
“That’s enough, Your Grace,” Lillian said. “You’ve done your damage.” Alec stood, bringing Derek to his feet at the same time. When he did not immediately let Derek go, Lily said, “Release him.”
Not without a final word. Alec leaned down, terrifying the other man, enjoying the horror on his idiot face. “I told you I would destroy you, did I not? And that was before you touched her. Before you insulted her.”
He released his grip, dropping Derek to the ground, sending him scurrying backward like a beetle, reaching for his bloodied nose. “You broke my nose. I am an actor!”
Alec reached into his own pocket, withdrawing his handkerchief to wipe the blood from his knuckles. “If you come near her again, I shall do more than break your nose. I shall make it impossible for you to walk the boards of your damn stage. And I shall do so without hesitation. And with exceeding pleasure.”
“It won’t change anything,” Derek sniped. “The moment the world sees my painting, they’ll see the truth.” He looked at Lily. “No one will have you honorably, and the only companionship you’ll be able to find is your brutal duke and a handful of men who want you for just that—companionship.”
The shame came again. Hot and angry and desperate. And somehow, in all of it, all she wished was that Alec had not heard it.
She wished him to think more of her.
But he did not, of course. Hadn’t he said the same to her not an hour earlier in the center of the ballroom?
Sell when you can.
He did not see the similarity, apparently, as he went after Derek again, lifting him by the collar until the man she’d once loved dangled above the floor. Lily’s eyes went wide as Hawkins grasped at Alec’s wrists ineffectively. “Give me one decent reason not to kill you right now.”