Sexy As Hell

the door, Isolde! I know you’re in there!”

Isolde shivered, the thought of facing Frederick suddenly less auspicious. “What if I don’t?” She studied the oak-paneled door. “Do you think it will hold?”

“Of course it’ll hold. But then you’ll be prisoner in here until-” Oz blew out a breath. “Darling, he’s not going away.”

“I agree, my lady,” Malmsey murmured. “Lord Compton was in high dudgeon when I caught a glimpse of him downstairs.”

“I’m going to send him on his way,” Oz calmly said, moving toward the door. Or shoot him where he stands. “I’d like you both to stay back, but suit yourself.”

Turning the latch a moment later, holding his pistol in a deceptively slack hold, he opened the door. “What can I do for you, Compton?” he lazily drawled, his pistol barrel aimed at Frederick’s paunch, his gaze swiftly surveying Frederick’s burly entourage. “Make your comments brief because my pistol has a hair trigger and I’m testy after being wakened from a dead sleep.”

Frederick seemed to shrink into his skin at the sight of Lennox, his rage at Isolde’s public scandal subsumed by terror. The feeling increased along with his pallor as his gaze flicked to the pistol Oz held aimed at his stomach.

“You’d best be on your way, Compton,” Oz gently said.

But the prospect of Isolde’s vast fortune firmed Frederick’s spine, as did recall of his hired thugs backing him up. One man against six; the odds were in his favor. “I’m not here to see you,” he said with a hint of his normal haughtiness. “I came to speak to the Countess of Wraxell.”

“The lady’s indisposed at the moment, Compton. She’s rare tired after last night,” he added with an insolent smile.

Flushing red with anger, Frederick glanced over his shoulder to assure himself his hired roughs were in place. “Nevertheless, I must insist on speaking with her,” he said, the extent of his gambling debts prompting him to stand his ground. “This is a civilized country, Lennox,” he added, the obvious slur referring to Oz’s Indian background. “I have simply come to call on the lady.”

“With bully boys at your back.” Oz nodded at the menacing crowd. “If you recall, Compton, I shot Buckley last month for irritating me. So don’t fucking irritate me or I’ll shoot you where you stand.” What the hell is he doing with a frock-coated minister? The man suddenly hove into view behind a brawny ruffian.

“I have armed men to protect me,” Frederick blustered. As if mention of his bodyguard gave him fresh courage, Frederick foolishly added, “Step aside, Lennox. I have business with Lady Wraxell.”

“If you wish to see her, you’ll have to go through me,” Oz silkily said. “I have six shots. One for you and the rest for your thugs if they choose to die today.”

The men hired by Frederick lived in a hazardous, dog-eat-dog world; they were survivors or they’d never have lived to adulthood. None of them questioned the cold-blooded malevolence in Oz’s eyes or the steadiness of his pistol hand.

“There now, that’s a sensible lot,” Oz said. Not one man so much as shifted his stance. “I have some money in my coat pocket, Malmsey. Give it to these gentlemen so they might have a pint or two on me.” He calmly waited, his finger on the trigger, while the barrister found the coat and the money and hurried over to the door.

“All of it, sir?” the barrister quavered, holding up a thick bundle of large notes.

“Yes, I’m in a charitable mood.” He was patently undisturbed, his voice unemotional. “Buy the wife and kiddies a present from me, too, gentlemen.” Taking the bills from Malmsey’s outstretched hand, he tossed them well down the passageway.

As Frederick’s guard melted away in raucous pursuit of the windfall, Oz nodded at the minister who’d not been touched by the greed of lesser men. “Come in, sir. I have need of you. It’s not a request,” he gruffly added as the man hesitated. “Although, if you do your duty by me,” Oz said with a pleasant smile, “your parish will be richer for it.”

Ah, there are calibrations of acceptable greed, he thought as the minister walked toward him. “Good day, Compton.” He waved him away with his pistol. “Although, I’m more than willing to put a bullet in you if you want to argue the point.”

Left to face the formidable Lennox alone, Frederick could do little but glower. “You won’t get away with this disgraceful behavior, Lennox! I shall have my revenge on you and my cousin!”

The man must be obsessed by the prospect of Isolde’s fortune that he dared threaten him. Most men would have been more prudent. “Not, I think, before I have mine, Compton,” Oz returned, a plan having leaped full-blown into his mind at the sight of the minister. And so saying, he shut the door in Compton’s fat face and locked it securely.

Turning, he set his pistol on a small table and offered Isolde a graceful bow. “Fear and money, darling-an incomparable combination.”

“Very effective. My compliments and thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but you heard him. He’s not about to give up without a fight.”

She shrugged. “I’ve dealt with Frederick for years. I’ll manage his next threat when it comes.”

“He owes money everywhere. I’m not sure he’s going to be manageable this time. I have a proposal. A business arrangement as it were-temporary and capable of permanently discouraging your contemptible cousin.”

Isolde’s gaze flicked to the minister, then back to Oz in warning.

“Malmsey, would you be so kind and take the minister-” He stopped and nodded toward the frock-coated man. “Lennox, sir.”

“Pelham, sir.”

“You have a marriage license, I presume.”

The man flushed. “I was told the marriage was by mutual consent, Mr. Lennox.”

Oz didn’t correct him; he wore his title lightly. “If you’d leave us for a few minutes,” Oz submitted. “This won’t take long.”

Once the door closed on Malmsey and the minister, Isolde snorted in disgust. “The vile pig. He thought to marry me by force! I’d rather die!”

“Which would only serve his ends,” Oz drily said. “As for his scheme to marry you, once the words were spoken, you might not have had recourse.”

“Of course I would! It would have been an unspeakable outrage, not to mention a crime!”

“Come, sit with me.” Taking her hand, he drew her to a small sofa. “You need to make some plans.” Oz was more aware than most men of the finer details of marriage law after listening to his many lovers’ conjugal complaints.

“My plan is to avoid the despicable blackguard. I’ll hire an army if I have to in order to keep him off my land.”

“That might work,” he diplomatically replied, sitting and pulling her down on his lap. “But I have a better scheme. A foolproof one.”

She smiled. “If this has to do with sex, we have rather too many guests at the moment.”

“I’ll get rid of them soon.” He grinned. “And then we can have sex as man and wife-don’t look so shocked. It’s an excellent idea. Now, listen.”

Afterward, she said, “Hmm,” and he was encouraged.

“It’s strictly a business arrangement.” His voice was soft and even. “We’ll have whatever legal documents you want drawn up to protect your property. I have no need of your wealth, nor do I want it. I’ve plenty of my own. I’ll live with you temporarily so all looks right and tight, and once Compton is off the scent, we can divorce easily enough. It only takes money, a good barrister, and patience.”

She grinned. “Is that all?”

“Darling, consider, Malmsey will be thrilled to take on such a lucrative commission. And admit,” he added, amusement in his gaze, “no one else will have you now that the papers have come out.”

“A blessing as you well know. But you needn’t be so chivalrous. It’s quite too generous, particularly for a man of your-”

“Selfishness?”

Her brows rose. “I was about to say a man of your sybaritic tendencies-all of which I adore by the way. But