that?” Jeff drawled, in acold voice. A muscle leaped in the line of his jaw and was still again.
Rafe had had a moment to recover, and he squared his mule-strong shoulders in preparation for battle. Still, there was a tremor in his voice when he answered. “I just wanted her to sing.”
Phineas had gotten back to his feet, and he caught Fancy’s upper arms in both hands and pulled her backward, out of range. The crowd, silent now, drew back, too, making a thick circle around the two men.
Blood pounded in Fancy’s ears and her heart nestled into her throat, fat and almost impossible to breathe around. God in heaven, did Jeff actually mean to fight with that monster of a man? That giant?
He did. Tired of waiting, he drew back one fist and then lodged it squarely in Rafe’s fleshy middle. It made a thudding sound and the farmer’s breath left his lungs in an angry whoosh.
With the hulking movements of a trained bear, Rafe swung one huge hand toward Jeff’s head. Despite his own impressive size, Jeff was smaller than his adversary and Fancy closed her eyes, unable to watch.
The terrible sounds went on for an eternity, it seemed to Fancy, and she flinched at each grunt of pain, each muttered swearword, each thud of fist against flesh.
“Sweet Lord in heaven,” marveled Phineas in an undertone, his hands still holding Fancy fast.
She opened her eyes at this and was surprised to see Rafe kneeling on the ground, blood trickling from his nostrils and making crimson patches in the dirt. His shoulders heaved with the effort to breathe and Jeff stood over him like an avenging angel, magnificent inhis fury, unscathed except for a slight cut above his right eye.
Almost idly, he lifted one booted foot and placed it in the middle of Rafe’s chest. With a desultory motion of his leg, he sent the farmer toppling backward to lie curled up on the ground.
Looking shame-faced and apologetic, several of Rafe’s friends came to gather him up and lead him, stumbling, away. Jeff’s furious indigo eyes sliced to Fancy and held, and the ferocity in their depths stunned her so profoundly that she couldn’t move or speak. Why was he angry with her, she wondered wildly.
Phineas stepped around her rigid little frame to offer a congratulatory hand to Jeff. Some of the fury faded from Jeff’s eyes as he hesitated and then accepted Phineas’s handshake.
Throughout this brief exchange, Fancy stood still, hurting and defiant and wildly confused. She had done nothing wrong, nothing but try to defend her friend, and yet Jeff was clearly outraged. The look he flung in her direction as he listened to Phineas’s raving skewered her with the piercing impact of a lance.
When Phineas wandered away to attend his balloon, Jeff approached her. Fancy averted her eyes, gnawing at her lower lip.
“What was that all about?” Jeff demanded coldly, standing so close that she could feel the power and strength of him in every fiber of her being.
Fancy lifted defiant eyes to his white, taut-jawed face. “The farmer started it all,” she said.
“You could have been hurt!” Jeff retorted in a tight voice, and it was then that Fancy realized that he wasn’t angry at all. He was frightened.
“I wasn’t, thanks to you,” she said lightly.
“Does that happen often?”
Fancy nodded reluctantly. “I’m afraid so,” she admitted. “But it doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s all over.”
His hands closed over her shoulders and he drew her close in a swift, almost desperate movement. She could feel just the hint of a tremor in his muscular frame. “Suppose I hadn’t gotten here in time—”
Fancy laughed nervously, surprised that there were tears brimming in her eyes. “I would have started singing,” she answered. She had never been rescued before, and it was a nice feeling, a touching feeling.
Jeff chuckled and caught her chin on the curve of his fingers, lifting. He kissed the tip of her nose and then held her close again, as
Rafe had had a moment to recover, and he squared his mule-strong shoulders in preparation for battle. Still, there was a tremor in his voice when he answered. “I just wanted her to sing.”
Phineas had gotten back to his feet, and he caught Fancy’s upper arms in both hands and pulled her backward, out of range. The crowd, silent now, drew back, too, making a thick circle around the two men.
Blood pounded in Fancy’s ears and her heart nestled into her throat, fat and almost impossible to breathe around. God in heaven, did Jeff actually mean to fight with that monster of a man? That giant?
He did. Tired of waiting, he drew back one fist and then lodged it squarely in Rafe’s fleshy middle. It made a thudding sound and the farmer’s breath left his lungs in an angry whoosh.
With the hulking movements of a trained bear, Rafe swung one huge hand toward Jeff’s head. Despite his own impressive size, Jeff was smaller than his adversary and Fancy closed her eyes, unable to watch.
The terrible sounds went on for an eternity, it seemed to Fancy, and she flinched at each grunt of pain, each muttered swearword, each thud of fist against flesh.
“Sweet Lord in heaven,” marveled Phineas in an undertone, his hands still holding Fancy fast.
She opened her eyes at this and was surprised to see Rafe kneeling on the ground, blood trickling from his nostrils and making crimson patches in the dirt. His shoulders heaved with the effort to breathe and Jeff stood over him like an avenging angel, magnificent inhis fury, unscathed except for a slight cut above his right eye.
Almost idly, he lifted one booted foot and placed it in the middle of Rafe’s chest. With a desultory motion of his leg, he sent the farmer toppling backward to lie curled up on the ground.
Looking shame-faced and apologetic, several of Rafe’s friends came to gather him up and lead him, stumbling, away. Jeff’s furious indigo eyes sliced to Fancy and held, and the ferocity in their depths stunned her so profoundly that she couldn’t move or speak. Why was he angry with her, she wondered wildly.
Phineas stepped around her rigid little frame to offer a congratulatory hand to Jeff. Some of the fury faded from Jeff’s eyes as he hesitated and then accepted Phineas’s handshake.
Throughout this brief exchange, Fancy stood still, hurting and defiant and wildly confused. She had done nothing wrong, nothing but try to defend her friend, and yet Jeff was clearly outraged. The look he flung in her direction as he listened to Phineas’s raving skewered her with the piercing impact of a lance.
When Phineas wandered away to attend his balloon, Jeff approached her. Fancy averted her eyes, gnawing at her lower lip.
“What was that all about?” Jeff demanded coldly, standing so close that she could feel the power and strength of him in every fiber of her being.
Fancy lifted defiant eyes to his white, taut-jawed face. “The farmer started it all,” she said.
“You could have been hurt!” Jeff retorted in a tight voice, and it was then that Fancy realized that he wasn’t angry at all. He was frightened.
“I wasn’t, thanks to you,” she said lightly.
“Does that happen often?”
Fancy nodded reluctantly. “I’m afraid so,” she admitted. “But it doesn’t matter now, does it? It’s all over.”
His hands closed over her shoulders and he drew her close in a swift, almost desperate movement. She could feel just the hint of a tremor in his muscular frame. “Suppose I hadn’t gotten here in time—”
Fancy laughed nervously, surprised that there were tears brimming in her eyes. “I would have started singing,” she answered. She had never been rescued before, and it was a nice feeling, a touching feeling.
Jeff chuckled and caught her chin on the curve of his fingers, lifting. He kissed the tip of her nose and then held her close again, as
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