Page 52 of Indecently Daring

She did not wait to see what became of her friend, too intent on stopping a murder.

The man she had seen carrying Jeb off looked even bigger in the light of all the lamps the patrons of the inn had brought out to illuminate the fight. Stripped down to the waist, he appeared to be a solid wall of flesh, so huge and heavy she could not think there was a hope of Harry surviving the encounter.

Yet it appeared the fight had been ongoing for some time and Harry was… Alana swallowed. Harry was magnificent. He too had stripped to the waist, muscular body gilded in the lamplight and sheened with sweat. As she watched, dry-mouthed and breathless, Harry got in two swift blows, the second of which snapped the big man’s head back and made him stagger. The giant spat blood on the floor, gave Harry an evil look that made Alana’s blood turn to ice, and charged him.

Harry went down, with his opponent’s meaty hands tight about this throat, squeezing. Harry struggled, his hands tugging at the man’s wrists, body twisting to unseat the immense weight that must be crushing his chest, but nothing worked. The crowd had fallen quiet, uncertain now, a few of the braver soul suggesting he’d best stop now before a man of God expired before them, but no one intervened.

He was going to die. The big brute would kill him!

Alana looked frantically around her, searching for something, anything, she could use as a weapon. Her gaze settled upon a stack of neatly cut firewood. Each piece was perhaps a yard long, the thinnest pieces on top of the stack. Alana didn’t stop to think, just snatched up a cut branch—about as thick as her wrist, but good and strong—and hurried over to the bully strangling Harry to death. She raised the length of wood and hit him with all her might.

The impact juddered up her arm and shoulder, pain a sharp sensation that stole her breath but hardly registered in her mind, her attention all for Harry.

The man slumped immediately, a dead weight falling upon Harry, who groaned and shoved him to one side. He got to his hands and knees, choking and gasping for air. Harry looked up, glassy eyed and dazed as his attention settled on Alana, and on the length of wood still in her hands. He blinked.

“Alana?” he croaked in confusion.

“Oh, Harry!” She dropped the wood and flung herself at him, heedless of her skirts on the dirty cobbled yard. “I th-thought he was going to kill you.”

Harry’s arms went around her, and he held her tight to him.

“You did that?” he asked, sounding rather stunned, his voice scratchy and faint.

Alana swallowed, somewhat distracted by the feel of slick male flesh and hard muscle beneath her hands. Then she remembered the way the man had collapsed, and terror spiked through her. She nodded, shivering, and dared not look behind her.

“Is h-he d-dead?” she stammered, the shock of what she’d done finally sinking in.

“He ain’t dead, pet,” called one of the women who’d been watching the fight, and was now inspecting the felled man. “More’s the pity. Mean old bugger, he is. ’Bout time someone clobbered him.”

“Aye,” said an elderly gentleman, peering down at Jo’s recumbent frame. He poked at him with his walking stick. “Reckon ’e’s coming around, though. I’d make myself scarce if I were you, reverend, an’ take the lad and your missus with you.”

“Oh, but—” Alana began.

“I will, sir, thank you,” Harry said before she could explain. “It’s late and we’ve had quite enough excitement for one day. Come along, dear,” he said, hauling himself to his feet and helping Alana with him.

She looked up at him uncertainly and he smiled, such a smile that her heart gave an odd little skip. “Very well, Harry.”

Harry looked at her for a long moment, and she thought he would say something, but then his eyes went wide. “Oh, my word. Jeb! Come along.”

He took her hand, towing them through the crowd, who had lost interest in Jo now and were making their way back inside, all except for a little knot of men who were crowded together.

Alana gave a huff of laughter as she saw Cat sitting in a chair someone had provided for her, with Jeb held tenderly in her lap. She was stroking his hair as men jostled each other around her, one offering a glass of something that looked like ale, another a damp cloth.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Cat said serenely, accepting the cloth to wipe Jeb’s dirty face. “My poor brother has been dreadfully ill-used. If perhaps you might find some straw to make a bed in the back of that cart there, or it will be dreadfully uncomfortable… and perhaps a blanket?” she added with a sweet smile.

There was a sudden bustle as men pushed and shoved at each other, eager to be the one to do the angel’s bidding and provide the straw and blankets she had demanded, and likely anything else they could get hold of that she might require.

“Reverend Martin,” Cat said, sitting up straighter as they approached. Her eyes went wide as she saw him stripped bare to the waist and more than a little battered.

“How’s Jeb?” Harry demanded, rushing to the boy, and kneeling beside Cat.

“He’s got a terrible headache and he’s still very groggy, but I think he’s well enough,” Cat said, smiling down at Jeb, who stared up at her with a glazed expression of adoration.

“You ain’t ’alf pretty, miss,” he slurred.

Harry let out a breath of laughter, which was as much relief as amusement if Alana was any judge. “Good lad. Let’s get you back to the vicarage. I expect Mrs Hogget will enjoy making a fuss of you.”

Jeb turned his unfocused gaze upon Harry, his eyes bulging with shock. “Vicar! You be naked!”