She tore her gaze from him and looked at Christian, who was inspecting the other man with a mild curiosity.
“I’ll have my satisfaction,” Blundell barked.
Christian replied as calmly as if he were ordering ices from Gunter’s. “Name your seconds.”
Clarissa’s heart crashed into her ribs. A duel? Over her?She detested dueling—the very idea of men shooting at each other in a senseless display of violence, all for their so-called honor. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.
“You will not,” she interjected, stepping between the two men. “I absolutely forbid you to engage in that barbaric, outdated,illegalpractice.”
Christian expelled an impatient breath, reaching for her. She evaded him.
“It’s not up to you,” he said. “At this point, it has nothing to do with you.”
She stiffened. “It has everything to do with me. I don’t want it. I won’t have it.”
He rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to argue with her.
Blundell beat him to it. “I won’t be insulted without redress.”
He put his head down like an angry bull and stalked toward them. Clarissa took a hasty step back, fetching up against Christian’s chest. His hands settled at her waist, resting lightly but possessively on the curve above her hips. Somehow, that felt right, even though she knew how wrong it was.
“I suggest you not come closer, my lord,” drawled Christian. “You’ve distressed Mrs. Middleton quite enough for one night.”
Blundell’s lips peeled back into a taunting sneer. “Hiding behind the lady, Archer? Wonder what your fellow officers in the Fifth will have to say about that?”
All along Clarissa’s spine, Christian’s body went rock hard. Tension and anger radiated from him, enveloping her in a hot wave. In front of her, Blundell glared at Christian with murderous intent. So much belligerent male energy crackled around her, it was a wonder her hair didn’t stand on end.
She had to do something.
“And what will your fellow officers do when they hearyou tried to force yourself on me, Lord Blundell? What will your father, the marquess, do when I recount your behavior tonight?”
Christian’s fingers dug into her hips and she flinched. He loosened his grip, murmuring an apology in her ear.
Blundell’s sneer twisted into an ugly grimace. “I doubt anyone would believe you. After all, I’m the son of a peer. And perhaps you forget that my father is a member of the government.”
At one time, she would have accepted that. But with Christian at her back, his strength surrounding her like a shield, her courage returned. “I assure you, sir, I am quite convincing when I put my mind to it.”
Blundell shook with rage. “I will have my satisfaction, I tell you!”
“You’ll have nothing of the sort,” Clarissa retorted. “Please leave, my lord, or I will be forced to relate this unfortunate incident to our host. You may consider yourself untouchable, but I will make it my business to tell everyone about what transpired here tonight. Your father, I suspect, will not be happy about that, no matter how powerful he is.”
Clarissa wouldn’t have been surprised if Blundell had started foaming at the mouth, but he managed to throttle back his rage. He stormed to the French doors, giving the two of them a wide berth. But before he disappeared inside, he rounded on them.
“This isn’t the end of it, Archer. Be sure of it.”
Behind her, Clarissa felt Christian shrug, his hands still clasped lightly on her hips.
“I’ll look forward to our next meeting, my lord,” he said in a bored voice.
Giving them a last, enraged look, Blundell stomped across the floor of the study, and then the door to the hallway slammed shut.
Clarissa stood frozen in Christian’s embrace, trying to quellthe trembling of her limbs. Muted sounds from upstairs—the chattering of voices, the scrape of violins—began to filter into her consciousness. She heaved a sigh as life began returning to normal.
With a reassuring murmur, Christian turned her in his arms. She couldn’t look at him. Now that the crisis had passed, shame was fast replacing outrage. Her cheeks flushed with the knowledge that her urge to flee from Christian had placed her in this humiliating situation.
With a gentle hand, he tipped her chin up, and she met his gaze. The rugged angles of his face, only partly obscured by the shadows of the night, emanated masculine authority and determination. She had no doubt he was going to be overly protective and pigheadedly male, when all she wanted to do was go home and forget this night had ever happened.
But then he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, sending tingles racing across her skin. When he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, it sucked the air out of her lungs.
