“Don’t care who you know. These women are wanted for murder.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
Connall entered the room a moment later, and though his expression was relaxed, his eyes held a gleam of deadly intent. “I was meeting with him when we heard the news,” he said by way of explanation. “Lord Heath insisted on coming here. Like the Prince Regent, he’s very invested in all people in His Majesty’s kingdom getting along. A false accusation of murder would be a disgrace that the prince would take very seriously.”
Lord Heath nodded his bald head. “Very seriously indeed.” He held up a knife. A long dirk with a silver twist knot handle. It looked very lovely with its exquisite metal work. At least as far as Sadie could tell. “Is this knife near the same length and weight of the murder weapon?”
The constable glared at the thing. “Yes. Deadly and light enough to be wielded by a woman.”
“Hmmm. Really?” He passed it to Sadie. “Please attack me with that, Miss Allen.”
“What?”
“Come, come,” he said straightening up to his full height, which was significantly taller than her. “I’m making improper advances. Defend yourself.”
He wasn’t making improper advances. He was standing there with his arms spread wide as if inviting her to gut him.
“I swear I will not hurt you,” he said, his tone light and a little mocking, as if she couldn’t possibly hurt him. She was no warrior, but she’d used a knife before. She knew where to strike a man and how.
But there he stood with a congenial expression on his broad face. He also had a broad chest and shoulders that would do any man proud. In short, he was a very large man with a bland Sassenach expression. What that meant wasn’t exactly clear in her mind except that he seemed English through and through, and he was asking her to attack him.
She stood there stupefied. Did he really mean—
Apparently, he did because he suddenly lunged for her. He was faster than a man his size should be, and his hands were very large where they went for her body. Both hands on her shoulders, gripping her tight as he drew her improperly close.
She reacted on instinct, bringing the knife up between them. All she needed to do was point the thing toward his gut and shove. Except the moment she began to do that, he twisted his arm around hers and knocked the weapon wide. Indeed, the action was so quick she lost hold of the weapon. The thing went flying straight at a watchman who knocked it away with a quick flick of his wrist.
Damnation. She was a better fighter than that. And much too smart to allow him to twist her fully around until she was pressed back to front against him. Heavens, the man’s heat was startling as he surrounded her.
What had just happened?
“You caught her by surprise,” the constable said. “Any woman can take a man unawares.”
“Really?” Lord Heath said. He turned around such that his back was to her. “Come at me again.”
“What?” she said.
Connall grabbed the knife off the floor and offered it to her. “Attack him again, Sadie. And do it like you mean it.”
“I meant it last time,” she grumbled. But she’d been slow then. This time she was prepared, so she lifted the dirk in her fist. Damn, the point was really sharp. She did not want to hurt Lord Heath, but her blood was up. She would not stab down, but she would catch him.
She lurched forward only to have him duck away as he twisted to the side. Then in one smooth motion, he straightened up to catch her on the wrist. His hand was massive, and he easily held her away from him. Then he slowly, inexorably, tightened his fingers into her wrist. She tried to keep hold of the dirk. She really did. But there was no fighting the pressure as he squeezed.
The dirk slipped from her grip and fell into his other hand.
“So you’ve some skill in a fight,” the constable said. “Doesn’t mean Mr. Carr does.”
“On the contrary, he spars at the same place I do with Gentleman Jackson. He is well-trained. Much better, I imagine, than Miss Allen.”
“Hewaswell trained, my lord,” said the constable. “Now he’s dead. Stabbed thirteen times, by the look of it. By someone who hated him.”
“And you think it was her?” Lord Heath asked, shock in his tone. “By all accounts she’d just met the man. She’s barely been in the city for more than a few weeks. Why would she be moved to kill a man with such venom?”
The watchman nearest Sadie spoke up. “She’s a mad Scot. Savages, every one. Who knows what they teach their women?”
Mairi huffed out a disgusted breath. “We’re not taught to kill men for grabbing a tickle. We’re taught to kick ’em in the bollocks.”
“Or hit him with a branch,” added Iseabail.