Free Grace by Deneane Clark

required,” he said shortly. He stepped aside so he did not block the door, making it blatantly obvious that he expected Harry to leave.
    Anger once again flared in Harry’s eyes. He gave Grace a long look of derision. She returned the look with belligerent scorn, lifting her chin and glaring down her nose in an obstinate gesture already becoming familiar to Trevor.
    “So it’s true, then,” Harry drawled recklessly, looking her insolently up and down, his eyes purposely lingering on her long, shapely, breeches-clad legs. “I guess the only question that remains unanswered is whether his lordship is your fiancé . . . or your lover.”
    Firefly flinched at the sudden sharp crack that rang through the stable as Trevor’s fist connected with Sir Harry’s jaw. The knight grunted in pain as he careened heavily into the far wall and then slid slowly down to the straw-covered floor of the stable. With a small cry of shock, Grace released Firefly’s bridle and ran to the door of the stall, looking over it to see Harry slowly raising himself up on an elbow, one hand ruefully rubbing his chin. She looked up at Trevor and physically recoiled from the blazing anger in his eyes. He crossed the floor in two long strides to stand over Harry.
    “I should call you out for that, you bastard!” he said to the man on the floor in a lethal tone.
    Harry shook his head with a wince of pain. “The slur to my parentage aside, I suppose that answered my question,” he said, getting awkwardly to his feet and straightening his now hopelessly smudged and wrinkled jacket. “My apologies, Miss Grace, for my poor manners.” He bowed stiffly in her direction, nodded shortly to Trevor, and strode from the stables.
    Trevor watched him go, his lip curled in disgust at the man’s distasteful attire. He turned back to Grace, who stood silent just inside the stall. She glared at him in anger, her hands balled into two small fists planted firmly on her hips. Trevor looked at those trim hips and immediately remembered the feel of their firm curves beneath his hands. His body tightened in instinctive response. A slow smile worked its way across his face.
    That smile pushed Grace over the edge. “How dare you!” she flung at him, stamping her foot. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” She shook her head and stomped her foot again when she saw that he did not even comprehend the extent of the damage. When Harry returned to the village, he would tell everyone his version of what had transpired in the Ackerly stable. Soon the entire village would hear the tale, and would suppose that Grace actually
did
intend to marry the Earl of Huntwick. When the marriage did not come to pass, everyone would automatically assume the worst: that she had really been his lover all along.
    Trevor thought she had lost her mind. “What would you have had me do?” he asked in disbelief. “Should I have allowed him to maul you in this stable, right before my eyes?” His growing frustration with her was evident on his face.
    “You could have allowed me to take care of myself,” she said hotly. “I’ve handled Harry before,” she added, stepping out of the stall and latching the door firmly behind her. Shestarted to walk past him, fully intending to escape into her room and not emerge until the earl and his friend finally left, but Trevor smoothly stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her exit. He looked down at her with a tender smile.
    “You don’t have to take care of yourself, Grace,” he said, his voice turning deep and husky.
    “I would rather do so, if you please, my lord,” she returned in a tone drained of all emotion, unwilling to admit, even to herself, the almost magnetic effect his voice had on her. Tired from the battle of wills she had fought with this man almost from the moment they had met, she now wanted nothing more than to get away from him and from the way he muddled her senses. “Would you kindly move out of my way?” She