Saturday's Child Read Free

before burying the other fist in a belly grown soft with too much gin. There was a muffled grunt from his opponent, and then a cry of pain from where the other two still faced their intended victim.
    Colin dodged a blow that would have laid him out and planted another solid fist on the man's chin. Glancing around as the ruffian staggered back, he saw that the victim had dispatched one of his opponents and was now facing the second.
    With the odds suddenly evened up, the thugs lost their taste for the game. The two still standing turned and ran, leaving their compatriot stretched out on the hard ground.
    The silence was suddenly as thick as the fog. At first, all Colin could hear was the ragged beating of his own heart. His hands ached and he hoped they wouldn't stiffen up to the point where he couldn't handle a deck of cards.
    "I thank you, sir. Your aid was most well-timed."
    Colin turned toward the husky voice, aware of a niggling sense of familiarity. But in the density of the haze he could not identify the face.
    "It seems they had little stomach for a fight when the odds were not so heavily in their favor," Colin said.
    "Well, it's my good fortune that they weren't more dedicated to their task." He broke off, reaching one hand up to his shoulder and swaying slightly.
    "You're hurt," Colin exclaimed, stepping over the form of the fallen man with no more than a cursory glance. It was enough to tell him that the ruffian lived, which was probably more than he deserved.
    "A matter of a small knife wound. Nothing too serious, I think."
    "You should have it tended to." Colin glanced around the alley and came to a decision. He'd already interfered more than sanity recommended. Now the man was hurt and there was certainly no way to tell just how badly until they got him to a source of light. "Come with me. My sister will tend to you."
    "It's not so bad that it can't wait for attention. I doubt your sister will be overjoyed to have you arrive on her doorstep with a stranger in tow and ask her to tend his wounds."
    Despite the light amusement in his tone, Colin saw him sway again. He bent to pick up the man's hat, dusting it on his leg before handing it to the stranger.
    "Katie won't mind. She'd not forgive me for leaving you here, alone and bleeding, at the mercy of those men should they return."
    "Well, I certainly would not want to be a cause of bringing your sister's wrath down on your head. That would be churlish of me after you came to my aid in such a splendid manner."
    He took the hat Colin proffered and set it on his head before bending to pick up the walking stick that had been wrenched away in the fighting. A quick intake of breath said that the movement had been unwise and he didn't spurn the hand that Colin set under his arm to steady him as he straightened.
    They'd gone only a short distance when Colin became aware that the stranger's unsteadiness was caused as much by alcohol as by any damage done in the fight. He frowned, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. His doubts grew even stronger when they stepped beneath a lantern and he caught a glimpse of the stranger's face. It was the man from the Rearing Stallion, the fair-haired gambler who'd walked away with his pockets full.
    Something told him that he was going to regret bringing this man home. He had a feeling this stranger was not the sort of gentleman he should be introducing to his sister, particularly not at nearly four in the morning. Still, it was too late to change his mind now and there was no denying that the man was hurt.
    Katie started up in bed at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. She'd dozed off still listening for Colin's return and now her heart was pounding with the suddenness of her awakening.
    The footsteps stopped outside the door and she reached up one hand to clutch the neck of her nightdress. Colin would be alone, yet she could hear the mutter of voices. Thieves? But surely thieves would not be so loud, nor would they waste