“Samuel!”
“Get behind me.” he whisked her away from Parkington, groaning on the ground, rolling over and lurching to his hands and knees, and away from her father stepping out of the coach. Samuel whispered, “Check in my belt.”
She fought with the folds of his heavy cloak, seeking the cool leather wrapped around his hips. Finding it, somehow, despite her fumbling. Finding, too, the sharp steel sheathed there.
She pulled the knife from its home and held it as he’d taught her, staying close to the reassuring, taut and ready muscles of his back.
“You’re here,” she breathed as her father lurched down from the coach, dropping a steady stream of curses into the night air.
“Of course I’m here. Bloody hell, Emma.I’ll understand?”
“Don’t you?”
Her father pulled Parkington to his feet.
Samuel growled, “Of course I do, but bloody hell, Emma!” He didn’t even apologize for the cursing. Didn’t apologizetwice. She had found, it seemed, his tipping point. Excellent thing to learn when facing down marriage to the man.
“I know. I’m a nodcock.”
“You are.” But said, oddly and sweetly enough, with such love she almost wept. “Do you remember how to throw the knife?”
“Will I need to?”
“I hope not. He is your father. I’d rather not maim him the first time I meet him.”
She didn’t care terribly much at the moment.
“Who the hell are you?” Parkington roared, wiping dirt and blood from his face.
“I’m this lady’s betrothed.” Samuel stepped back, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. His other hand hidden by the cloak, but the muscle that controlled it, hard and ready beneath Emma’s hand. No doubt he held steel in his palm.
“Put down the knife,” she whispered. “My father will not threaten us. He merely wants money. Parkington offers it to him. Through me. Or Glenna.”
Samuel’s arm remained tense. Ready.
“You cannot have a woman after she’s been given to me.” Parkington sneered, turning on her father. “Tell him you’ve given her to me.”
“I can’t be given!” Emma yelled. “I can only give myself!”
Her father sauntered forward, rubbing his jaw. “Well now. I do enjoy choices. And it seems I have one. Are you the Duke of Clearford?”
Samuel nodded. “And the lady has agreed to marry me. And I have agreed to take on the care of her sisters until they marry. Any threat to Emma or to her sisters is a threat to me.”
Her father pushed his hair back, the salt and pepper slicking against his skull. “And how much are you willing to pay for my dear, dear daughters?”
“Whatever it takes.”
Oh, Samuel, you silly old duke. You dear, sweet, beloved man.
“I’m liking how this is shaping up,” her father said. “What about you, Parkington? How much can you offer? For Glenna, mind, not for the spinster. I’m thinking to get two chits wed out of this bidding war.”
“No!” Emma stepped to the side. She’d stop her own father’s heart with this blade before she let him sell her sister.
Samuel’s arm flew out against her chest. “Emma.” A warning.Trust him.Let him care for her, for her sisters.
Very well. She stepped back but kept her fist tight, her hold on the knife steady.
“I’m afraid, Lord Glenhaven,” Samuel said, “I cannot let you sell Glenna to any man.”
