Free Her Protector's Pleasure by Grace Callaway Page A

mention Harteford!"
    Amused, Marianne took in the spots of color on her friend's rounded cheeks. "I misspoke earlier. You're no Mother Hen, my dear, but a tigress when it comes to your own."
    The arrival of the new guests forestalled further discussion. Mrs. Anna Fines, a kindly bespectacled lady of comfortable years, was escorted by her son Paul, a handsome blond rake near Marianne's own age. Helena's butler arrived with refreshments, and soon polite conversation mingled with the tinkling of silver tongs used to serve the bite-sized pastries and sandwiches. Marianne hid a yawn as Paul Fines did his utmost to flirt with her.
    Wearying of the scene, she readied to take her leave. At that moment, however, Helena's husband, the Marquess of Harteford, came barging into the drawing room. Following at his heels was another man, equally large and rather brutal looking due to the scar that ran from cheek to jaw. Marianne's brows climbed.
    Clearly, things are about to get interesting.
    After introducing the stranger as none other than the infamous Gavin Hunt, Harteford said abruptly, "Percy may be in danger. I'll explain all later. First we must locate her—where is she?"
    "Hatchard's," Anna Fines said. "Mr. Kent went with her and planned to bring her here afterward."
    At the mention of the policeman, the conversation faded to the rushing of blood in Marianne's ears. Kent might come here ... today? Tingles tiptoed up her spine; she chided her own foolishness. She'd already taught Kent a lesson, and matters were settled between them. If she saw him, she would treat him with cold politesse . And, if he was as smart as she suspected he was, he'd stay out of her path.
    The door swung open—it had been doing that a lot this afternoon—and Kent entered with a rapid stride. His keen gaze took in the room, latched upon her face. The spark of surprise across his features was quickly snuffed by the grimness of his expression. Then he spotted Hunt, and his lean frame went rigid.
    "What are you doing here?" Kent demanded.
    "Where is Percy?" Hunt shot back.
    Marianne gripped the strings of her reticule as a premonitory chill touched her nape.
    Raw emotion flashed in Kent's remarkable eyes ... shame?
    In a hoarse voice, he said, "She has been taken."
    *****
    In the hallway outside the drawing room, Helena said, "Heavens, poor Percy at the mercy of kidnappers! Who knows what these enemies of Mr. Hunt are capable of? If anything happens to her—oh, I do wish I could help!"
    "Don't overtax yourself, dearest," Marianne said. "In your condition, you'd be more hindrance than help. Harteford would be mad with worry over you—and you know he needs his concentration in this instance."
    Helena bit her lip and nodded. Her hazel eyes glimmered with anxiety.
    Thinking of Percy's predicament, Marianne couldn't help but share her concern. Gavin Hunt had explained the situation: his rivals had taken Percy with the aim of hurting him. To Marianne's surprise—and everyone else's—it seemed Hunt's enemies had hit the nail on the head. Hunt had looked desperate, savage in his need to get Percy back. Though the blackguard might have seduced Percy with revenge in mind, he'd clearly lost his heart to her in the process.
    But who wouldn't love a girl as open and warm-hearted as Percy?
    Marianne made up her mind.
    "I'll go along, shall I?" she said lightly. "That way, we won't have to worry about the males bungling it all up."
    Helena's eyes welled, and Marianne felt a twinge of alarm. She'd never enjoyed excessive displays of emotion. In her experience, ladies who were increasing had the tendency to becoming watering pots.
    "Oh, would you?" Reaching out, Helena gripped Marianne's arm. "You are ever so clever! When I think of the danger Percy may be in …"
    "I shall be glad to be of help." Marianne gingerly pried free of the other's fingers. "Now you'd best go sit with Mrs. Fines and keep her calm."
    With a watery nod, Helena returned to the drawing