Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Elizabeth screamed and ducked. Someone caught her arm, jerking her savagely forward onto her feet. She fought to free herself, running her nails down his arm.
“Stop it, Elizabeth, it’s me.”
“My God, Zachary. How are you here?” He dragged her against his chest, stumbling backward with the force of his haul. Zachary shoved her behind him, stood there, planted between her and the mob.
She saw the cougar emerge in a calm, steady stance with lethal claws.
Her assailant puffed and swung but never saw the danger.
She drew a sharp breath as the giant threw his punch.
Zachary seemed to move past her, past him.
For an instant, they were together, and then the giant lurched past, grabbing air, and crashed to the ground.
From behind, another giant came at Zachary, the man’s neck swiveled back and forth on powerful shoulders, the kind of shoulders that could easily lift a duet of oxen.
The thug hopped from side to side, bending one way, bending the other, knocking those aside him to the street. His huge feet stamped divots in the mud.
Zachary moved. His face tight and burning, his teeth bared, his feet spread, and his body coiled to strike. With a sound that was no sound, an explosion of air and force sent the giant tumbling into the crowd.
Zachary held Elizabeth against him, his back pressed to her.
“Fiona!” O’Reilly yelled. The Irishman plunged deeper into the hostile crowd.
“Mrs. Merriweather?” Elizabeth shrieked, scanning the crowd, worried the old woman had been trampled.
“Chen has her. He is an entire army protecting her.”
“Oh, it’s a fight you want?” said a corpulent and ominous brute, fists up, and daring to step in front of Zachary
Zachary lowered his right shoulder and charged, slamming his fist into a giant’s sternum with a series of powerful blows, and then kicked a weight-bearing leg out from under the man. Elizabeth swallowed. Was this a fighting style of east and west?
Another assailant came at him, eyes wild, launching a right.
Zachary sidestepped. The buzz swept beside his head.
The thug’s momentum carried him in a curve, his kidney exposed for the taking.
Zachary hit a short right, a colossal blow, a blow that would have cracked an iron beam.
The thug stumbled and bent viciously backward from the force of the punch, the breath whooshing out of him.
He tottered, and his right leg went stiff.
He trembled like aspen leaves in the wind, then, grinning, the hulk of a man righted himself and lunged. Zachary stepped back, and then with the edge of his hand chopped with herculean force against the thug’s jaw. Crack.
Jaw hanging, the thug straightened and charged, swinging fists, first right, then left, none of them reaching Zachary. Like a dance it was. Zachary there and then not there. Dizzying speed of feet, legs, trunk, arms, hands, choreographed to attack with lethal force.
He crouched, and with low leg sweeps, and mind-boggling speed, he disabled fierce numbers. He was more deadly in close combat and against men double his size. The melee kept after him, underestimating the skill required to take him down.
Fiona and Mrs. Merriweather suddenly appeared and clung to Elizabeth. Chen, Zachary, and O’Reilly formed a protective circle, inching them away from the melee.
Elizabeth’s widened her eyes. Chen, like Zachary, possessed the same aggressive fighting mien except his moves flowed supernatural and different than these unfortunate thugs had experienced.
Baffling flying snap kicks, backward rolls and onto his feet again.
Kicking, leaping, impossible whirling blocks, mystically suspended high above in the air, denying blows from every opponent, and knocking them unconscious.
“Good God,” said Mrs. Merriweather. “I’ve never seen the like.”
Elizabeth gasped. O’Reilly, a beast, rushed to meet their numbers, with pounding fists and a bloodcurdling yell that rocketed up Elizabeth’s spine.
He grasped one of the thug’s wrists and broke it in two.
He stopped and hit the next thug with a colossal right that seemed to come up all the way from his planted feet and with his fist driving right through and beyond.
The thug’s falling body weight whipped his head out from under O’Reilly’s moving hand, allowing the momentum to carry him onward, shoulder first into the guy behind him.
O’Reilly kicked a thug between the legs, and the man’s head jerked downward at the same time O’Reilly’s elbow sailed upward, doubling the impact of the blow.
With the screech of police whistles, the crowd scattered.
“We must get the women away to keep them from scandal.” Zachary picked up Elizabeth followed by O’Reilly carrying Fiona, and then Chen gathering up a surprised Mrs. Merriweather.
“I apologize, Mrs. Merriweather, but hurry is important,” said the Chinaman.
They traversed through a network of shadowy streets sloshing through large puddles. There were hardly any streetlamps and what light existed revealed the contours of shabby buildings. Four blocks away, Zachary whistled for a hack.
Once safely inside the crammed conveyance, Elizabeth lay against Zachary’s chest with her eyes shut and sobbing.
Shudders ran through her, one after another, each time she tried to speak or move.
Her hair had come loose and was dragging in her eyes.
He smoothed it back, looking her over from head to toe.
“I thank you. You’ve placed yourself in grave danger on my account,” said Elizabeth.
Zachary raised a brow. “I placed myself in grave danger the moment I met you.”
Zachary smiled inwardly as she attempted to hide her embarrassment by settling her skirts around her legs.
Her scent washed over him. Though it was mild, he detected the sophistication of a French fragrance.
Regardless of his intentions to not allow his thoughts to go in that direction, his gaze drifted down to her lips.
Had thought of that innocent kiss he’d with her at the ball.
Had thought of that kiss more than he liked. Her inexperience had been obvious.
The unfortunate memory of her assault had come to the forefront.
He imagined how painful the process of healing would be for her, knew with time and love she’d gain confidence, a sense of control and realize her self-worth.
Who would show her patience? Not the duke.
His hands fisted, but her lush mouth tipped up in a smile, and her violet eyes held a soft amethyst tint as she observed him.
She deserved better than him. Her father had made that clear enough. Guilt dared to raise its unbidden head.
“You’re scowling.” Her voice was soft with just the right amount of husk to rake over his senses. The skin on the back of his neck stiffened in awareness.
Across from them, Mrs. Merriweather cleared her throat. “You can put me down now, Mr. Chen.”
The matron had alerted Zach of his singular attentions. Elizabeth colored, and Zach reverently and reluctantly moved her snug to his side.
A sharp realization sizzled through his brain and the angry mob they had managed to escape. “Do you realize how your foolhardiness put Mrs. Merriweather, Fiona and yourself at risk? Why were you in that part of town? Anyone with half a brain would know”
“Sarcasm, Mr. Rourke is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt.” She lifted her chin a notch and crossed her arms over her chest. “My dreaded brother-in-law lied to us. We were tricked to go to that unseemly show.”
Zach narrowed his eyes. “You attended a burlesque?”
“Not my proudest moment,” Elizabeth sniffed. “We left two minutes into the first act. The moment we stepped outside, a riot started. The incident was out of our control…that is for someone with half a brain might realize.”
Zachary tamped down a grin. To poke the cougar and to bask in the blaze of her righteous wrath.
“Do you ever smile? Or is it a peculiarity of yours?” Anger and the chill in the night air had added spots of color to her cheeks. She was beautiful.
His gaze dropped to the attractive curve of her bosom before he could stop it, forcing him to drag it back up to her face. Trying to appear at ease, he pretended to be intrigued by the flames flickering from the coach lantern. “Perhaps I’m shy.”
Her gaze bored into the side of his head harder than a punch delivered by the famous oyster-shucking boxer, Gans. “Your brazen confidence is as expansive as the cosmos. That is why it is so tragic. Nonetheless, it proves God has a sense of humor.”
“What I find needing questioning,” said O’Reilly, unable to keep the venom from his voice, “is that your brother-in-law abandoned three defenseless women. I smell a rat.”
“That Roderick is going to get a piece of my mind,” said Mrs. Merriweather. “To tell you the truth, I think it was a trick to compromise Elizabeth. The riot started out of nowhere, as if it were staged.”
Zachary leaned his head back. “What bothers me is a suspicious carriage that left in a hurry. Not the kind you see in this end of town unless it was for nefarious purposes. My instincts tell me there is a connection.”
“How is it, Zachary, you were at the theater?” said Elizabeth.
“One of my customer’s gave us tickets. Thankfully, we were late. The outcome would have been a disaster.”
“I’m worried about what might have happened to my Fiona,” said O’Reilly, tightening his arms around her. “From now on, you are not to go into that part of town without my permission.”
At the aggravating smugness in his smile, she gave a dismissive sniff. “I don’t take orders, Mr. O’Reilly. I barely take suggestions.”
“I’d disagree with you, Miss Fiona, but then we’d both be wrong. Look how my dearest is smiling.”
Fiona huffed. “Don’t confuse a smile with someone baring their teeth.”
Elizabeth gazed at Zachary. “I’m mystified with how you three men were able to fight a massive crowd.”