Chapter 11

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Where was Theodore when she needed him?

The men were closing up on her, she didn't have much time.

She moved backwards slowly and when she thought that she could escape, she tried to run, but the large man caught up with her easily and put his grimy paw on her.

Rosalyn tried to tug her hand free but to no avail. He was too strong.

"Stop trying to escape, lady. There ain't no use," he chortled.

"Let me go, you brute," Rosalyn screamed, struggling against his ungainly body.

"If ya think that I'm gunna letchu go, yer highly mistaken," he grinned.

"And if you think that I will let you live if you don't leave the lady alone this instant, you're highly mistaken," Rosalyn heard another voice from behind her.

It was Theodore.

Oh! Thank god.

The short man seemed to blanch, intimidated by Theo's threat and bolted. But the large man was clearly foolish because he made no move to let her go.

"Is she yer lady?" He asked.

"Yes, mine," he said dropping down the bucket of water he'd brought and discarding his jacket.

Rosalyn was struck by the possessiveness and raw anger in his eyes.

"Well then come get 'er," the brute goaded him on.

Rosalyn saw that he was almost as tall as her villain. But while Theodore was all muscles and sinew, the brute was simply fat.

Oh this was not going to go well. For the brute.

Theodore came at him without any hesitation. The brute let her go, preparing to fight.

For her apparently. Rosalyn tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat.

And then they began to brawl. It was clear to see who had the upper hand.

Theodore.

The brute fought without technique but put all his energy into it while Theodore fought methodically, cleverly dodging his attacks and hitting him where it hurt the most.

A few minutes later, the brawl was over.

"Common," Theodore said, bending to pick up her hat and discarded greatcoat. He then proceeded to wrap it around her.

His tenderness never ceased to astound her. He was so angry just now and yet he was so gentle with her.

Taking her hand in his, he began to lead her to their carriage, leaving the swearing, partially conscious brute there.

Once they were inside, Theodore sat opposite her. She was fidgeting with her sleeves. He put his hand under her chin and raised her head.

"Are you alright?" He asked, looking worried, gazing into her eyes.

"I'm fine, really. You're the one with a torn lip."

"Yes, but that man was far more injured than I am," he bragged.

Rosalyn resisted rolling her eyes.

She sat up straighter, using his handkerchief to gingerly wipe the blood on his lips and then to tie it around his scratched knuckles.

He sat there silently, watching her attend to him. She tried her best to avoid looking at his exposed chest.

The intensity in his eyes did something to her.

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