Liam jerked off his cravat, tossing it at his bed. Blasted thing could choke a man to death. Whose idea was it to truss up a person’s neck like a Christmas goose anyway? Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, he raked his hands over a face beginning to stubble over. He was exhausted after a very short time out with Becca and Molly. He could spend the entire night on the streets, in pursuit, or in his lab, studying slides under his microscope—but a blasted soiree, which he’d spent all of one hour at, left feeling hung out to dry.
It was the stupidity, of course. He had a very low tolerance for it.
He shouldn’t have let his sister talk him into going in the first place. And he never should’ve allowed Molly to tempt him so much. No, he took that back. He was glad he’d been there to peel Hilton off of her. He couldn’t think about him near Molly without wanting to break his nose all over again.
Liam realized he’d have to keep going to events. Molly was a bundle of trouble waiting to happen, and he needed to protect her. Who else would? He obviously couldn’t trust her mother to do that. How had she survived this long out of her father’s house without either being wed already or… He couldn’t consider it. No.
She was just too beautiful, too soft, too vulnerable to not be under round the clock protection, which he would have to give her, because she was Becca’s friend, of course.
Sad thing was, he was a bad choice for the girl.
Oh, his mind said keep her safe and that was just fine, but his body screamed, I have a few ideas on how to accomplish that. Obviously she did things to him, things that required cold water.
A knock at the door made him come back to his feet. Four knocks.
Liam was being summoned. He left his cravat behind. Where he was going, he wouldn’t need it. He pulled on his favorite worn black coat, and went to open the door.
Darcy Branwyn 
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