Chapter Three

Her brother?

Heart thundering behind her ribs, Rosamunde flicked her gaze between the two apparent siblings once more, finally picking up on the similarities. If she were to believe the rumors surrounding the son of Lucien St. Martin, the Marquess of Heartstone, the other man with him was his best friend and cohort in all things, Garrett Morgan. A man known in most circles as Falcon.

She had to escape. It was time to run away and head to the relative safety of her home. It may not be warm, but standing beside this man, surrounded by his woodsy scent, was driving her to distraction. It wasn’t fair.

Her future didn’t include anything with this man, and even though she wasn’t exactly experienced in things involving a relationship between a man and a woman, she wasn’t completely ignorant. She’d heard people talk and, quite honestly, had seen some things while passing alleys.

Still, random passings and overheard conversational snippets were far different from being surrounded by the raw masculine scent that came with… Oh Lawks ! I’m standing wearing an earl’s coat like we are an actual couple.

Heat surged up her cheeks and she tugged her hand from his and began to remove the heavy, oh-so-warm coat from her shoulders. How incredible would it be to have a man think of her comfort first? Fanciful thoughts were one thing, but this was bound to get back to his circle and she didn’t want anything to embarrass him.

“No.” He brushed her fingers away and settled his clothing firmly back in place. “You’re coming home with us, Keely,” he said to his sister like he’d not just treated Rosamunde like a child who needed help with their clothing. “No arguments. Falcon, get a hack.”

Falcon glared at the woman once more before striding off to do as ordered, Rosamunde presumed.

Seconds later, Keely was standing in front of her. “You shouldn’t have left, Rosamunde. I would have had Chip take you home.” She flatted her lips. “Well, close enough that you would have been safe.”

A low grumble rolled from the earl, still standing so close she could feel the heat emanating from him even while in his coat!

“Neither of you should be out here alone.” He pinned his intense gaze on her only to swing it back to his sister. “You’re by the docks! Mama is worried.”

“I am perfectly safe,” Keely retorted, only to stiffen when Falcon strode back up, his every move showcasing his power.

“Like hell you are,” Falcon growled. “Hack’s waiting.”

Without waiting, he gripped Keely and propelled her off to the waiting vehicle, leaving Rosamunde alone with the earl, who still had her wrapped in his coat.

“And you,” he rumbled. “Who are you? Why were you down here?”

“Thank you.” She forced the words out without stumbling over them too much. It was easier when she didn’t look him in the eyes. “For stepping in. If you’ll let me go, I’ll see myself home.”

Rosamunde shifted back. Or rather, tried to. His grip on the coat tightened and she couldn’t move.

“Cute.”

She snorted. She’d been called a lot of things but cute, well, that had never been one of them.

“I’m not having you put your parents through what my sister is putting mine. We’ll escort you home.”

He took her to the waiting hack and helped her inside, ignoring the man at the door offering his hand. She found herself seated beside a seething Keely. Trying to take up the least amount of room she could, she hugged the wall.

“The boys are fine.”

Whipping her head to Keely, a smile came at the shared words. “Thank you. I know you have so many and it’s hard to find room.”

Keely reached across the small interior and placed a gloved hand on Rosamunde’s arm. “I know how hard you work to get the children off the streets, Rosamunde. I find it so admirable. You could be off plotting how to land someone in the ton but you spend your time doing worthwhile work instead.”

“I am not anyone someone would want.” She shrugged her shoulders, still covered by the thick wool coat. Inside the sleeves, she curved her fingers into her palms and tried to relax.

“You,” Keely snapped, “are adorable and stunning. I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. Now, you’ll come with us to my house, get warmed up and we’ll take you home. I want to talk to you about maybe working with me down there.”

Both males grumbled across the interior. Rosamunde snapped her gaze to them and found them scowling. They were focused on Keely however, not her.

The remainder of the ride, she kept to herself and listened to the siblings bicker. Falcon took part but she didn’t feel the way he watched Keely was anything close to familial. The man was in love with her.

When the hack stopped before a large town home, she bit the inside of her cheek, fear swarming her. Falcon practically dragged Keely down and when Rosamunde moved to the opening he was right before her.

Bryn, she’d heard Falcon call him, and she only knew in passing of the name Brenden St. Martin—and some of the uglier sobriquets people used in his direction. His deep blue eyes held hers as long as she allowed it, not long. She dropped her gaze and waited for him to slide over.

He held fast and she frowned briefly before lifting her head to look at him again. Hand out, eyebrows up, he waited for her to place her palm in his.

“So independent,” he teased in a low tone.

It took a moment for her to expose her hand from under the sleeve of his coat but he didn’t rush her, simply waited. While he obviously had immense strength, he remained so gentle as he assisted her down. Instead of moving away from her, he settled a hand on the small of her back and guided her through the wrought-iron gate and up the shoveled walkway to the footman waiting by the door.

They didn’t even have to slow, as the footman opened it prior to them getting there.

Warmth poured out of the house and she nearly moaned in pleasure as it sank into her exposed skin.

A thin man walked up, dressed impeccably in black, and he took Falcon’s coat and gloves as well as Keely’s before passing them off to a footman. Then he faced her and paused.

“My lord?”

“Take the coat from her, Weeks. She has another under it but it wasn’t doing much good in the chill.” Bryn drew off his black leather gloves and passed them to another footman.

Rosamunde felt completely out of place standing in her older dress. “I should get home.”

“Keely!”

The call came from the stairs and everyone looked up to see who Rosamunde assumed to be their mother coming down to the ground floor. Smooth dark skin and black hair with some gray strands that only added to her beauty.

“Mama.” Keely went straight into her arms, holding tight.

Unwanted tears burned at Rosamunde’s eyes. She couldn’t remember her mother hugging her. Ever. Much less with such emotion.

Their words, she couldn’t understand. The love, she got the concept but again, it hadn’t been like that in her home, so she wouldn’t say she understood. Behind the women, another man moved down the stairs.

Him she knew. The Marquess of Heartstone.

He paused by the women and kissed his daughter on the top of the head, his wife on the mouth, then finished the walk to where Rosamunde remained standing with his son’s hand on her back.

“Boys.” He gave each a nod. Then eyes which were so much like his son’s latched onto her.

She swallowed.

“I apologize for the intrusion, my lord.”

“And who are you, my dear?” His voice wasn’t warm like his son’s but it wasn’t cruel. It was simply straightforward.

He turned his attention to Bryn. All he did was shrug.

What? Did he bring random women home all the time? Her flush grew deeper.

“She was being threatened by some men near the docks. And she knows Keely. I brought her home.”

Like a stray puppy.

“I should head home.”

Not like her parents would be concerned, so long as she turned up when it came time for her to be passed off to the man her father had chosen for her. She stiffened, only to force herself to relax when Bryn swiped his thumb up her back, almost like he was trying to calm her.

Bryn couldn’t explain anything that was happening. Not to him, his cock, or his brain, which had gone completely addled. This woman with her damn light yet extremely addictive and intoxicating scent of violet and mint had completely confused him. On so many levels.

She was short, curvy, and had these eyes that completely gutted him every time he looked in them.

He shouldn’t be standing in front of his father with his hand pressed against her back. Her dress was thin and he wanted to turn her over his knee for going outside without all the proper clothing she should be wearing. And why wasn’t he feeling stays beneath this dress?

His cock went from semi-hard to fully erect and he bit the inside of his cheek to think about the pain and get his erection to subside. That wasn’t an observation he needed to have right now.

“I said I’d take you home later. Right now, we’re going to eat.”

More stiffening, this time from her.

His father merely cocked an eyebrow at the two of them before shrugging and gesturing for Bryn to lead the way. He noticed how he shared a soft word with Falcon on the way past him. The six of them walked into the dining room and he wasn’t sure, completely, on how to take the unpleasant rolling in his gut when he had to let his hand fall away from Rosamunde.

Even so, he held her chair for her and slid her in, allowing his hand to drag along her shoulders before he took the seat right next to her.

His mother lifted her eyebrow this time and Bryn worked hard not to squirm beneath her scrutiny. While his parents were very different in the private eye than in public, they were still both forces to be reckoned with—his mother an honest-to-God princess and his father a marquess.

It didn’t take very long and they had warm soup and toasty fresh bread before them. He heard Rosamunde’s stomach growl and saw a flush skim up her fair skin. Bryn knew better than to say anything about it but his mind whirred with reasons she would be hungry.

She carried herself like a lady, however her clothing was definitely not the newest fashion, nor necessarily appropriate for the weather. Who was her father and why was he letting his daughter out without protection of either man or clothing?

“Bryn.”

He blinked and snapped his attention to his mother, who waited for his gaze. “Yes, Mama?”

“I asked you how you met Miss Fletcher.”

Who is that?

His sister huffed. “Rosamunde. Seated right next to you.”

The woman beside him somehow shrank into herself, and he didn’t much care for that. Glaring at his sister briefly before putting his attention back on his mother, he replied, “Too close to the docks. Where I found Keely.” She is a lady. Not that it mattered to him.

Once the focus was back on his sister as had been his intention, he turned his stare to the woman beside him. She’d taken maybe two bites of the bread and the spoon rested on the dish, upside down.

“Eat.” He dipped his head closer to her, wanting her to look at him.

“I’m sure your family didn’t plan on feeding someone like me.”

A low growl slid free before he could stop it. She never glanced at him.

“My mother loves to feed anyone who comes into this house.” He stole a look at the woman he spoke about. She watched him with a knowing gaze, even if he didn’t want to admit what he saw on her face.

Why would I? I just met this woman. She shouldn’t mean so much. I shouldn’t care. At all. I should take her home, leave her there and get on with my life.

“And we’re not going to discuss the other bit of your statement. Eat or I’ll feed you.”

“Pushy male.”

Her words were low but he had no issues hearing her. And her snippy tone made him struggle not to show the smile threatening to take over. Something deep inside his chest unfurled and pleasure poured through him as she picked up the spoon, in her left hand, and dipped it into the bowl of white soup.

The moan of appreciation she made when it slipped by her lips was subdued enough he doubted anyone else in the room heard her. Damn though if it didn’t make him feel like beating his chest. He wanted to be the one to provide things for her.

Bryn shook his head and focused on his food, not on the woman beside him who smelled so delicious. The one who had in the short time he’d known her become such a distraction and temptation, unwanted though it may be.

He wasn’t planning on staying in London, heck not even in England. This city wasn’t for him. He didn’t do the politics and hated the way he was treated. His plans involved heading back to where he had been born—the wild open land of the Americas. Quite honestly, he was much better off by himself and away from people.

Noticing that her bread was gone, he reached out and snagged her another piece, placing it on her plate so she could have it along with the rest of the soup in her bowl. He joined the conversation surrounding his sister.

“I was fine, Mama,” she said. “Chip was with me.” A shrug. “He was inside, but he was there.”

“Chip isn’t good enough protection for you,” Falcon growled. “And inside is not close enough to step in if it’s needed.”

“It was my fault,” Rosamunde piped in, bringing all focus to her. “I was there at the home to drop off two boys I’d discovered out on their own. I knew of Lady St. Martin and this particular place and had asked her to meet me.” She licked her lips. “To try and ensure the boys were able to stay instead of being left out on the street in this weather.”

Bryn knew that was nothing but a lie and yet, that she would do something like this to protect his sister, struck at another chord deep in his chest.

She placed her spoon down in the bowl and settled her hands in her lap. He saw her eyeing the remainder of the food in front of her on the table before she sighed quietly and glanced back at his parents. “Thank you for your hospitality. I should be heading home.”

His parents shared a look before nodding. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.” Both rose and the rest of the table followed suit.

He stood back and watched her say farewell to his mother, his father, then Falcon. His sister gave her a hug and they whispered to one another for a moment. He waited, not so patiently, for her to look at him.

Those guileless green eyes locked onto him the barest of moments before she stepped closer to him. Again, all he wanted to do was touch…her. Everywhere.

“Thank you, my lord, for saving me.”

“Bryn.”

Her brow furrowed for a moment.

“Call me Bryn.”

She shook her head, even as her lips said his name silently.

Yes, he had a new goal. Have her scream his name. Preferably while he was deep inside her or had his head locked between her thighs.

“I’ll escort you home.” He shook his head. “No arguing with me, it’s too dam…blasted cold for you to walk.” Without taking his eyes from her features, he waved to Weeks, who hovered near with her worn coat and helped her put it on. Seconds later a maid was there as well, as it wouldn’t do to be improper with a woman he’d just met.

Well, maybe it would do but that’s not what I should be thinking about right now.

A shared look with Falcon and he guided her out the door to the waiting carriage. She didn’t speak on the way home after telling him where to take her.

The nearer they got to her place, the more she withdrew into herself and, if he wasn’t mistaken, which he wasn’t, she began to shake. The maid riding along didn’t speak and did well to blend into the background.

Bryn didn’t like this development at all.

When the vehicle rocked to a halt, he hopped out before reaching his hand back to help her down. No mistaking people stealing peeks out of the front windows. The front door opened and a man Bryn pegged as her father moved from behind the man who’d opened the door.

“Rosamunde, where have you been and who are you with?”

She tried to pull from his grasp but he refused until she was securely on the ground. Then Bryn faced the older man as he walked her up to the door. No footman, he noticed.

“Lord Barberaton, I’m St. Martin. Your daughter spent the day with my sister and we are escorting her home as it’s too cold for her to walk.” He couldn’t help the reprimand in his tone, even as he waved back to where the maid could be seen in the carriage.

“Your father is Lord Heartstone?”

A succinct nod. “He is.” Glancing down to the woman he was loath to leave, Bryn smiled. “Good to see you again. I know my sister loves spending time with you. Have a great day.” A look to the father. “My lord.”

Walking away was the hardest thing he’d ever done. The door clicked behind them and he pushed thoughts of her from his mind. He had a trip to plan. Even so, there was no denying the screaming his soul did, telling him to go back, pick her up and toss her over his shoulder to never let her go again.