Chapter Seven

“This shouldn’t be allowed to happen, Bradford. You need to put a stop to it.”

Rosamunde paused on the stairs as she heard her mother’s unpleasant whine to her father.

“Her brother is with her every day. I ask him all the time if there is anything I need to be concerned about with that boy and our daughter.”

“ Your daughter. Keep that in mind.”

“It’s been over twenty years, Harriet. Will you let it go?”

“That you fucked another woman and had a child with her? And not just anyone but a scullery maid ? Not a chance.” A chair scraped over the floor. “It’s bad enough I have to pass her off as my own but she’s not even remotely attractive like the others. She’s fat and not the smartest. But given her mother, that shouldn’t shock me.”

“The point being, Harriet, is that our son says they barely speak to each another. A few greetings and she sits on a bench watching and reading.”

Her legs didn’t want to hold her and she bit her lower lip in a valiant effort to control her tears. Taking the remaining two steps in quick succession, she hastened to her bedroom and stumbled inside.

Rosamunde crawled onto her bed, not focusing on the cold in the room that permeated to her bones, but on the devastation from the news. Face in her pillow, she screamed her anger out and allowed the tears to fall.

She wasn’t sure how long she raged to the quiet of her room, but eventually a knock came on the door.

“What?” She bit off.

“Beggin’ your pardon, miss. There is a Miss St. Martin to see you.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Very good, miss.”

Two additional sharp screams into the pillow and she pushed off the bed. Pausing by the mirror to ensure she’d gotten rid of the evidence of her tears, she searched for her nicer cloak and put it over her shoulders.

On the first floor, she found Keely St. Martin waiting by the door, and shame swarmed her once again. Had they left her standing here? Couldn’t even see her to the sitting room?

Keely gave a smile that faltered moments later. Then it reappeared, but Rosamunde knew it wasn’t her true one. In her periphery, she spied her father and his wife watching. She would never refer to that woman as her mother again.

“Rosamunde. I know I’m early but I was so excited to go shopping with you.” Keely reached out a hand and pulled her close. “And I’m so happy to know you are staying over tonight. That way we can start our second day early.”

Turned to the door, Rosamunde couldn’t find any words. She hadn’t been expecting to see the other woman again.

Keely glanced over her shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Lord and Lady Barberaton.”

Lost in a bit of a fog, she didn’t struggle as Keely led her down the steps and into the waiting carriage. Keely took her hand and squeezed it, bringing her gaze up.

“Talk, or would you like to simply beat something?”

Rosamunde’s jaw tingled with the struggle to keep new waves of tears at bay. “Beat something.”

Keely opened the door and said something to the driver before she popped back inside. Rosamunde thought she would try to get her to open up, but Keely merely sat beside her and slid her arm through hers. That was it. They didn’t take up the ride with conversation, simply silence.

They reached the Heartstone town home and Rosamunde realized she’d not been back here since she’d made that proposition to Bryn.

“Let’s go inside.”

After being assisted to the ground, she walked with Keely inside the warm home.

“Hi, Keely,” the marchioness said as she walked from the sitting room into the hall. “Oh, lovely to see you again, Miss Fletcher.”

“Mama, Rosamunde is staying the night. Where’s Bryn?”

“His room last I knew and wonderful, I’ll let the cook know to expect one more.” She vanished with a smile.

“I don’t want to put you out.”

Keely waved her off. “Weeks, please get Rosamunde settled in the sitting room. I have to go find Bryn.” A brief squeeze on her arm. “Be back soon.”

She went up the stairs with the ease of someone who didn’t tend to trip on a smooth surface.

“This way, Miss Fletcher.”

Weeks gestured to the room and she trailed him. He held out his hand. “May I take your cloak?”

“Yes, of course.” She shrugged out of it and handed it over along with her gloves.

He walked away and she closed her eyes for a moment before she opened them and walked to the window. Unlike at her place, even by the large window that showed how hard the snow fell, she could feel heat without covering herself with a blanket.

If she’d had the attire she would have loved to spend more time in the cold. But her stuff was worn and thin. Not the best for her to go traipsing out and about. Resting her head against the wall, she stared out at the winter storm set on covering London in snow.

She felt his presence before she saw him in her peripheral sight. Bryn. Whenever he was in a room, it seemed smaller. Also, like the air when a dangerous storm arrived, one didn’t miss the charge in the air from the lightning.

It was the same result to her skin and body when he was in a room with her.

When she cut her gaze to the right he was there. Silent. Protective. Beautiful.

“Come on.”

“Where’s your sister?”

“She left you in my care for a while. Let’s go.” He strode to the door and opened it before disappearing. Seconds later, he popped his head back in. “I don’t like being kept waiting.”

“I’m not a fan of being ordered around,” she snapped back before she could talk herself out of it.

His fingers curved around the edge of the door while his lips moved up in a pleased smile.

“You do have claws. Bunny is out then.” His smile was sly. “Perhaps lioness.”

“What are you talking about?”

He curled two fingers at her, beckoning her to his side. Damn if she didn’t respond immediately, her feet moving her in his direction without thought on her part. He smirked and looked entirely too proud. He gestured her down the hall and they walked toward the back of the house, where he paused by a closed door.

He positioned her so she was between him and the handle, so he surrounded her as he opened the door. “After you,” he whispered in her ear.

Her body didn’t know what to do with the feelings he evoked within her. As she’d been focused on not rubbing against him like a cat, it took a bit to realize she was standing in a place similar to the one at the academy where he trained with her brother.

She walked in and turned a full circle. “You train at home too.”

He nodded as he kicked the door closed behind him, securing them in there together.

Rosamunde clasped her hands. “Why are we here?” It didn’t make sense to her. “Oh, is this to tell me about a man you think can look past my weight and lack of everything to show me passion?”

The growl rolled out of him and settled in places she didn’t dare think about in the light of day.

“Stop.”

One word, but it left no room for argument.

“You’re going to learn to box.”

She furrowed her brow. “Whatever for? I watch you and my brother do that and Falcon as well. Seems to me all you’re doing is beating each other and sweating.” She fought to ignore the small thrill that burst through her at the thought of doing it. When she watched, it seemed like a fantastic way to work out her frustrations. And she had quite a few.

Rosamunde saw a stuffed teardrop hanging from the ceiling and she walked to it. A bag of sorts with an unknown stuffing inside.

“What is this?”

“Something to punch. What you’re going to punch to get out the anger you’re trying to squash.”

“I’m fine,” she immediately protested. She did it without thought as that was always what she’d been told to do. I’m never supposed to let anyone think a single thing is wrong. All part of being the perfect, invisible daughter .

“I hope you don’t expect me to believe that statement.”

She glared at him. “Are you calling me a liar?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

Gaaa ! She wanted to scream and hated he’d pushed her to this point.

“Come on, lioness, you have claws. Show me.” No denying the taunt. At some point he’d moved to the bag she’d been staring at and now he tapped it. “Come hit this a few times and I’ll let you have a go at me .”

There was an offer she wouldn’t refuse.

Bryn watched in silence as Rosamunde walloped the bag. Other than stepping in to correct her form so she wouldn’t inadvertently injure herself, he let her work out the demons riding her.

Even now, she’d not let go of her control. Sweat dripped down her face but her punches were precise. No wasted movement. Boxing was something she’d picked up with a swiftness some of the men he boxed with hadn’t.

He’d been in his room deciding on what things to take back to America with him when his sister had barged in what had never been his sacred space. Even as children, she’d never once let a closed door keep her from what she wanted.

“ What, Keely ?” he’d asked, not bothering to stop sorting things. Was his packing something the staff could do? Of course, but seriously, what else would he do on a day like today? Outside it was positively miserable.

“ Rose is here and she’s depressed. Teach her to box .”

That was all she’d said. Granted, she wouldn’t have had to say anything more than ‘Rose’. His sister knew it too. Without pause, he’d followed her out of the room and headed downstairs.

It had been the look on her face and the set of her shoulders that had disturbed him. Defeated would have been a word he could have used. Alone and defeated.

He hated that on her.

Sure she’d wiped it away when he’d walked in but he’d seen it. He’d seen the tears she’d steadfastly refused to allow to fall down her cheeks.

Damn it ! This woman wasn’t supposed to sink into his skin like this. No one was, not here. He was leaving. Going back across the ocean.

She twisted her wrist again and he stepped up behind her, reaching around to grasp and adjust. She stiffened beneath his touch and he couldn’t help himself. Yes, the proper thing would be to step back and give her space like men should do to women, but with this woman, he couldn’t.

So he inched closer, making sure she knew he was there, pressing up against her. Even sweaty, she didn’t lose that delicious and intoxicating scent mixture of mint and violet. Christ, did she bathe in a tub of it?

“Ready to hit something alive, lioness?”

She’d put her arms down after finishing up the punch for which he’d corrected her posture. Rosamunde tried to hold herself away from him but he didn’t allow it. God, her curves were to die for.

“Does that mean I get to hit you?”

He tsk ed and lowered his head, skimming just above her shoulder with his nose. It wouldn’t take much for him to drag his tongue along her smooth skin. “It means you get to try .”

Will she tremble like this for the man she takes to her bed before her father marries her off?

The real question should have been why that thought pissed him off to the very marrow of his bones. He didn’t want another man close enough to smell that damn alluring scent she wore so well, much less one knowing how to make her shiver like she did.

Firming his jaw, he forced himself back so she could turn to face him. Thick tendrils of chestnut hair lay plastered against her temple. Tiny beads of sweat dotted her skin, which was uncommonly flushed.

Again, unbidden thoughts popped into his head. Her flushed from his kisses, skin sweaty from him taking her again and again. His cock swelled and he ignored it, holding her gaze with his own.

This wasn’t about him.

“I’ll hold my hands up and you strike them.” He gave a nod. “Get into position.”

Fuck him, when she shifted her feet without hesitation all he could think about was having her respond to him in a different manner. Grinding his jaw, he dipped his head in approval.

While he was acquainted with boxing and its rise in popularity in London, he also was a man who’d traveled and learned other forms of fighting. All this was incorporated into what he used when he was in the ring and what he was going to teach this little lioness before him. While in some circles it wasn’t honorable, he didn’t care. After all, they assumed the worst of him anyway. He would do what he could to be better.

Assuming he could keep it professional.

He smacked his hand into the opposite palm. “Come on, give it a go.”

He thought there’d be more hesitation but again, he’d underestimated this woman. Something he believed most people did when they met her. A mistake on everyone’s part and one he wouldn’t be making again.

Her fists struck with both speed and accuracy. There was far more power behind each one than he’d been expecting.

“That’s it, lioness. Let it out.”

She froze, going rigid in a manner that told him this was more than what he could only assume she heard on a daily basis from that shit group called her family. He got it, he did. Yes, he had his father and grandfather’s names to lend support, but he understood what it was like to have people ridicule and say hateful things. He also knew what it was to try to conceal his anger, most of the times self-deprecating anger, from the rest of the world.

“Don’t presume to know me,” she growled, her fists lowering to her sides, but she wasn’t relaxing.

“I know you better than you think I do.”

She scoffed and he put his hands down, deliberately encroaching on her space. If this was what it took, then this was what he’d do. All Bryn knew was he couldn’t fucking stand that look of bone-deep betrayal she’d initially had when he’d seen her today.

“Back off.”

He clucked his tongue at her. “How exactly do you think you’re going to find a man to lie with you if you don’t like them close?”

She inhaled sharply and pushed at his chest. Bryn struggled to keep his moan contained. How the hell something so simple could create such a maelstrom within him, he hadn’t a clue.

“The guys I know aren’t like a lot of the men in society, lioness. They’ll want to strip you naked.” Her pulse kicked up. “Lick your soft skin. Bit it. Mark you. Everywhere. ”

Rosamunde whimpered.

He stepped closer, bringing her palm more firmly against his torso. She didn’t pull it away.

“Nip. Suck. Stroke.”

“I don’t need lies, my lord.”

He dipped his head. “Bryn.”

She firmed her lips and furrowed her brow. “My lord.”

“I wonder what I have to do in order to have you call out my name.” He picked up her hand and turned it over in his so her palm was up. “Don’t forget to make sure you always have your thumb on the outside.” He curled her fingers over, making the fist. “If you have it inside, you’re likely going to break it.”

“Got it.” Her voice was low and shaky.

He could be a right bastard, but he did know when to push and when to retreat. Right now, pushing on the thing that had hurt her was fine. Pushing her sexually? Not a wise idea.

“Now, who hurt you this morning?”

“Why? Going to punch them?”

He stroked his fingers over her fist as they stood close to each other, breath mingling.

“What else would people expect from The Mutt?”

She struck him on the chest, using her other hand with a perfect punch.

He stumbled back. “Ouch. What was that for?”

“I told you not to call yourself that in front of me.” Her eyes shot fire.

“But it gets you to touch me.” He inched closer. If anyone were to walk in, they would be ruined. Well, she would. Bryn found he didn’t care so much.

Taking pity on her, and himself, he cupped her cheek. “Tell me so I can fix it, lioness.”

“You can’t. No one can. I’m going to have to figure it out myself.”

He respected that. Stepping back and severing all physical connection with her, he nodded. “You still have anger inside, so let’s work it out.”

Her withdrawal was more than just on the surface level. He could damn well see the walls she ducked behind. And it pissed him off. He didn’t want her to hide from him but damn it, he wasn’t the one for her.

Am I sure?

Losing himself in boxing, he sparred with her, and was continually impressed by how quick she picked it up. At one point, he glanced to the left and found his sister there.

Her lips quirked as she lifted her left eyebrow.

“Hang on, lioness.” He walked toward his sister. “What are you doing here, Kels?”

“Came to get you for dinner. Well, I came to get Rose so she can get cleaned up.”

Yeah, that wasn’t a visual he needed. He gazed over his shoulder and found Rosamunde standing there, brushing some of her hair from her face as she watched him with his sister.

“Give me five.” He walked off without waiting for a response.

Back in front of Rosamunde he tried, really hard, not to look at how her breasts rose and fell with each deep breath she took.

I’m an aroused male. One who’s been around a woman I want nothing more than to toss her skirts up over her head.

“One more set. Then it’s time to get cleaned up for dinner.”

“I don’t have anything here.”

“Then strip. I’m happy to box with you in nothing but your undergarments.”

She flushed and sent a punch at him. One he barely dodged.

Keely whistled and cheered her on. “Get him, Rose. Knock him out.”

He winked at her. “Come on, lioness. Show my sister what you’ve learned.”