Yet when O’Rourke saw the size of his opponent, he stopped retreating and stood his ground, easily blocking her blows.
Realizing her disadvantage in size and strength, Lily hastily glanced around her for a weapon, her gaze alighting on a thin bronze statue of a naked Aphrodite on a nearby table.
Picking it up, she brandished it at O’Rourke. “Get out! Get out of this house this instant!”
When he took a threatening step toward her, his eyes narrowing dangerously on her, Lily swung the statue at his shoulder and managed to hit him squarely on the joint.
O’Rourke gave a shocked yelp of pain and fell back again, clutching his shoulder.
“Get out, I say!” she repeated in a fierce hiss.
He held up both his hands defensively, but his tone remained belligerent. “No one tells Mick O’Rourke what to do, Missy.”
“
Practically grinding his teeth, O’Rourke brushed past her and stalked from the room.
Fanny immediately went to Fleur to offer comfort, while Lily followed O’Rourke to make certain he left the house entirely.
He stomped down the corridor, his fury obvious, but as he started down the flight of stairs, he called over his shoulder, “You haven’t heard the last of me! Prison will be the least of their worries, I promise you.”
Wrath vibrated in his tone and in Lily’s retort as well as she moved to the head of the staircase, still wielding her statue. “We will find your money somehow! But you are not welcome here!”
“I am leaving, you bloody madwoman,” he blustered, “but you’ll regret this, no mistake.”
It registered on her that Lord Claybourne was mounting the stairs at the same moment and had paused halfway up, arrested by the commotion. But she only had eyes for O’Rourke.
Lily stood there watching as he bounded down the lower steps and flung open the front door, then fled outside to the safety of his carriage.
When he finally was gone, her gaze shifted blindly to Claybourne. He looked taken aback to have seen her drive O’Rourke from the house, yet it was hard for her to focus on him since she was so enraged, she was shaking.
Then just as suddenly, her rage left her and her knees went weak. Reaching out, she grasped the balustrade with her free hand to keep from falling.
In three strides, the marquess had sprung up the remaining stairs and caught her about the waist to steady her.
“Sit,” he urged, guiding her down to sit on the top step.
Having no strength left, she obeyed, even though she wanted to protest when he settled close beside her. But she seemed to have lost her voice. Her breath was coming in short gasps, while her body still trembled.
He waited as she tried to gather her composure, although he pried the statue from her grasp and set it on the carpet.
By then several people had gathered below-boarders and servants alike-and Claybourne gave them all a dismissive look as he said tersely, “You may go about your business.”
His order instantly cleared the entrance hall, leaving Lily alone with him.
“What happened?” he asked gently.
“He was hurting Fleur,” Lily rasped.
Muttering a sharp invective under his breath, he glanced sharply down at the front entrance door, as if he wanted to go after O’Rourke himself. But all he said was, “And you came to her rescue.”
“Yes.” She had leapt to Fleur’s defense a moment ago, just as she had her mother all those years ago. Except that then it had been her father who had acted the brute, cruelly using his greater male strength against a smaller, weaker woman.
Still shivering, Lily wrapped her arms around herself as the awful memory swept over her. Doubtless that was why she had reacted so fiercely this time-because she’d dealt with similar physical violence before.
When she remained silent, Claybourne spoke again. “I take it that was O’Rourke, here to collect the gaming debt owed him.”
She emitted a short, humorless laugh. “I believe so. I didn’t take the time to ask. When I found him threatening Fleur, all I could think about was stopping him.”
Claybourne searched her face as his jaw hardened. “I will be more than happy to deal with O’Rourke for you.”
It touched her that he was so ready to step in to protect her, Lily thought as his perceptive eyes regarded her intently. There was concern there in the hazel depths, along with anger. Anger she knew was on her behalf.
Her own anger had mostly dissipated by now, but a darker emotion compressed her chest, welling up inside her with suffocating force. She couldn’t ward off the grim memories of that summer day when she was sixteen, when she’d intervened in her parents’ worst battle.
For most of her childhood, Lily had taken refuge in the stables whenever they fought, but that particular day she had returned to the house unexpectedly. Upon hearing screams, she rushed into the drawing room, only to find her father striking her mother in a violent rage, pummelling her body…her breasts, her ribs, her stomach.
For one horrified moment Lily stood frozen with heart-pounding fear, unable to breathe. Then hearing another helpless cry from her mother, she stumbled blindly forward and reached for the only weapon at hand-a knife used to pare quill pens. Her stomach roiling, she raised the blade high, brandishing it at her father threateningly, swearing to stab him with it if he didn’t leave Mama alone.
Thank God he had heeded her.
Despite his shock and fury, Sir Charles appeared to believe her warning. He spun on his heel and stalked from the room, leaving Lily to console her bitterly sobbing mother.
To her knowledge, her father had never again raised a hand to her mother, but Lily had vowed then and there never to let any man hurt her like that.
Shutting her eyes, she shuddered at the raw remembrance that still burned deep inside her. She still recalled the horror she’d felt. The gut-wrenching helplessness. The revulsion. The fear. She had hated her father in those few moments. And she had never forgiven him for his brutality.
Lily could feel Claybourne’s penetrating gaze on her now, even before he spoke again in a quiet voice. “What is it, sweetheart? Something has upset you, and I don’t believe it was only that you had to chase a bully from the house.”
Perhaps she should explain… But no. She had no desire to share her most intimate fears with the marquess. She already felt too vulnerable to him.
Why, she had never even told her sisters about the dreadful incident when she’d threatened to kill her own father; her mother hadn’t wanted them to know. Basil was the only one who had learned the ugly truth, and that was because he’d happened upon Lily shortly afterward, when she was still too upset to stop herself from spilling the sordid details.
Indeed, she had tried to block them from her memory for years. But a woman’s natural fear of physical violence from a bigger, stronger male had always stayed with her.
Which was why, when Claybourne raised a hand to touch her cheek, Lily flinched and drew back sharply.
At her instinctively fearful response, he stilled and lowered his hand. “You should allow me to help,” he said quietly.
His gentleness made her feel even worse, since she knew she had greatly overreacted.
Biting her lip, Lily dragged in a deep breath. “Thank you, but I think we can deal with O’Rourke ourselves.”
“At the very least I can make certain he won’t call here again.”
Claybourne hesitated. “Even so, he needs to know that your friends have a protector.”
Lily’s mouth curled. “I’m afraid that won’t help much. They still owe O’Rourke an enormous sum.”
“Ah, yes, the thirty thousand pounds.”
