Free Kate Noble by Compromised Page B

right here. Before, Ommersley seemed to be very attentive, in a harmless sort of way. But now Gail could see the wicked intentions in his face, hear the fevered determination in his voice. A heavy velvet curtain separated them from most of the party, and suddenly her mind latched onto the fact that she was very alone with this man. And Gail had had enough.
    With all the force she could muster, she wrenched her arm free of Ommersley’s grasp, pulling at him with such force that he spilled the drink he carried—all down the front of Gail’s dress.
    “Oh!” Gail cried, as the cool liquid drenched through the cloth and hit her skin. “My dress! How awful!”
    Ommersley, however, seemed to be more enraged at the thought of her breaking his grip than the ruined state of her gown. Quickly, with a snarling ferocity his hollow frame disguised, he grabbed Gail by the forearms with bruising force and attempted to shake her into submission.
    Through the pounding in her ears from being so shockingly handled, Gail heard a growling whisper.
    “Enough!”
    As suddenly as the shaking started, it stopped. Gail was given to the wall to lean against, whilst a dark, and somehow familiar form dragged a whimpering Ommersley off by the scruff of his neck, opened the French doors to the balcony and disappeared for no more than twenty seconds. Gail could hear nothing but a few grunts through the doors, but when they reopened, only the form of her savior reemerged, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. The long figure walked toward Gail, his strides quiet but strong. As he passed a lit wall sconce, she could discern his features, and her eyes widened in shock.
    Bloody Hell.
    “I honestly thought you had him when you broke his grasp but he was a bit too fervent for his own good.” The man spoke as he approached, his eyes still on the balcony doors. When he turned his head, his concerned, good-natured smile quickly faded.
    “Bloody Hell,” he breathed.
     
    “ WHAT the devil are you doing here?” Max, after a moment of shock, finally spat out.
    “Me?” she expostulated. “What the devil are you doing here?”
    “I was invited to this party!” Max replied, which was (marginally) true. “Although I would have thought twice about attending had I known they let in bumbling headstrong nitwits who get themselves attacked.”
    “Hah! I can only question how such a conceited, overbearing ass received an invitation!” she shot back.
    “Look around.” Max waved his hand to the assembled crowd, who happily went on dancing without any thought or care as to the spitting match that was going on by the balcony doors. “Everyone here is a conceited, overbearing ass!”
    A snort of laughter escaped her lips. Max’s eyes narrowed as he leaned over her, placing his hand on the wall beside her head. He knew his frame to be quite imposing and, this time, as he judged by her widening eyes, she might actually take him seriously.
    “The man who is currently bleeding on the balcony is a conceited, overbearing ass,” he growled, forcing her golden eyes to hold his gaze. “He could have hurt you, and would have, had I not been here.”
    The girl steeled her spine. “I was doing just fine before you came.”
    Max snorted. “Oh yes, you had him in your clutches. He was deeply fooled by your impression of a rag doll, unaware that at any moment you would strike.”
    Aggravated, she looked up into his face—but for some reason her eyes couldn’t focus on his properly. Her hand went to her head, as her knees bent involuntarily.
    “Careful there. I’ve got you.” Quickly, his arms went around her, catching her before she could fall. Max could not help but be reminded of the last time he had this woman in his embrace; she was as soft then as she was now. And as wet—he could feel her form pressing through the damp, sticky barrier of her dress. She was almost pretty, almost likeable…if only she didn’t feel the need to set his back up with every