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As Marcus turned to leave, someone began pounding on a door at the far end of the hall. From the almost unintelligible words of love coming from the young blood attempting to lay siege to the chamber, it appeared the young man was in his altitudes, and he’d found Phoebe. At least Marcus didn’t think the idiot would be reciting bad poetry to anyone else. Damn.
Much to his disgust, Marcus recognized something of his own prior behavior toward Phoebe in the drunken young man. With long strides, Marcus quickly covered the distance to her door. Taking the other man by his coat collar, Marcus picked him up, and shook him. Hard. In a low, fierce growl, he said, “You, my lad, are leaving with me now, and you will not return to bother this lady again. If you do, I shall take great delight in breaking every bone in your body.”
Through the fellow’s alcoholic haze, he tried to focus on his tormentor. Marcus received a grim satisfaction at the fear in the blood’s eyes. Marcus slowly lowered the younger man until his feet touched the floor, then Marcus guided the buck down the hall to the stairs and out the front door, handing him over to one of the ostlers still on duty.
Marcus scowled. “Take this fool, and do not allow him back in the inn.”
The ostler eyed Marcus cautiously. “But, my lord, he’s stayin’ here.”
He fixed the ostler with a cold, hard glare. “I don’t give a damn where he is staying. He was bothering a female guest. You will not allow him back in the inn, or you’ll answer to me.”