A Rogue No More - Lana Williams Page 0,44
pounding as the brawny worker drew closer. Still she didn’t hear his call.
The man glanced toward him, his expression hardening at the sight of Thomas racing forward. The worker increased his pace even as he raised the piece of iron in a hefty fist, prepared to strike.
Thomas’s heart leapt to his throat. “Annabelle!”
~*~
Annabelle gasped and jerked her father to a halt as she caught sight of a worker approaching with an iron rod raised in his hand.
“What?” Her father stared at her in confusion then looked at the man blankly.
Annabelle released her father to stand in front of him, arms spread wide as she faced the stranger. “What are you about?” she demanded.
The man’s cold, dark eyes held hers, causing fear to grip her even as he lifted the iron higher, preparing to strike. Without thought, she rushed forward, hands outstretched to shove him back. But her effort had little effect.
“Get out of my way,” the man shouted, his focus on her father as he easily pushed her aside.
Sir Reginald stared at him with a puzzled expression but made no move to remove himself from harm’s way.
“No.” Annabelle grabbed the man’s hand that held the rod as he stepped closer to her father. “Leave him be.”
The worker shoved her hard, and she hit the ground, landing painfully on her side.
“What are you about?” Sir Reginald demanded as he glared at the man. “Stop this at once.”
Visible only as a blur, another figure tackled the stranger and knocked him to the ground. It took only a moment for Annabelle to realize it was Thomas.
She managed to get to her feet and rush to her father’s side as the two men struggled on the ground, fists flying as grunts and shouts filled the air. Thomas gained the upper hand, straddling their attacker and plowing his fist into the man’s jaw.
A worker called out and several men hurried forward to help subdue and hold the attacker.
Thomas shifted off the man and stood with his hands on his knees as if to catch his breath. Then he straightened, his chest heaving, as he turned toward Annabelle and her father. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She glanced at her father, relieved to see him untouched if confused, as she pressed a hand over her racing heart. “Thanks to you,” Annabelle said as she looked back at Thomas. She shook her head in disbelief, her legs trembling with shock. “Are you hurt?”
“Nothing but a few bruises, I think.” He glared at the attacker, who at last stopped struggling against his captors.
“What are you doing here?” Annabelle asked, her thoughts spinning as she tried to make sense of the situation as her focus shifted between her father, Thomas, and the stranger being held down. “How did you know?”
“It’s a rather long story.” His gaze studied her closely as if to reassure himself that she was well, the intensity in his green eyes causing her stomach to dip.
“Thank you, good sir.” Sir Reginald held out his hand toward Thomas. “You saved my daughter from injury.”
Thomas took his hand. “I’m pleased you’re both unharmed.”
“Sir Reginald Gold,” her father said with a smile. “Allow me to introduce my daughter, Miss Annabelle Gold.”
Thomas glanced at Annabelle as if puzzled by her father’s reaction.
Annabelle briefly closed her eyes then took her father’s arm. “I’ve had the pleasure of making Mr. Raybourne’s acquaintance.”
A look of confusion came over her father’s face and she hastened to reassure him. “I don’t believe you’ve met him, Father.”
“Sir Reginald.” Thomas dipped his head then glanced at the still angry attacker. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
“Why was that man trying to hit us?” Sir Reginald asked. He looked at Annabelle. “Do I know him?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“What’s happened?” Matthew Atwood, one of the foremen, stepped forward. “Why is Pickford being restrained?”
“He attacked Sir Reginald and his daughter with an iron rod,” Thomas explained. “Could you send someone for the River Police?”
“Of course.” Atwood directed a worker to do so then approached Pickford. “What is this about?”
“I’ve got nothing to say.” The man glared at those who held him, a snarl on his face.
“How long has he worked for you?” Thomas asked Sir Reginald.
Annabelle’s father looked up at the sky. “It’s a fine day, isn’t it? Although it looks like it might rain later.”
“Perhaps Mr. Atwood could answer any questions,” Annabelle suggested even as alarm filled her.
Thomas seemed to understand her concern as he nodded. “Why don’t I make certain all is taken care of here while